Introduction
Growing up as a young African girl, one of the most important lessons I learnt was the importance of being good. This meant being quiet, obedient without question, and not drawing attention to oneself. For years, I thought being “good” meant being small. Small in my opinions, in my ambitions and even physically. Like many women, I learned early to avoid being “too much.” Don’t be too loud, too confident, too visible.
I realised as I grew older that being ‘good’ and ‘humble’ are expected from women and other marginalised people. There are certain prerequisites for being treated fairly and accepted by society. We are socialised to not take up too much space in conversation, presence or ambition. We are told that humility is a virtue, but often, it’s code for erasure. The issue with this erasure and disappearance is that it is not neutral. It comes at the cost of opportunity, joy and the right to live fully.
Smallness is a literal and metaphorical conditioning. It is a taught socialisation that pushed women and marginalised groups away from society into the margins. To be accepted or tolerated, people shrink themselves and aim to be as invisible as they can. Shrinking of oneself can take different shapes and forms as it is a form of survival. In classrooms, it is the hesitation to raise a hand, in relationships, it can appear as apologising for needs before stating them. In the workplace, it can present as a need to be careful with one's voice so as not to be seen as aggressive.
How Smallness is Learned
As a condition we are socialised to, smallness is learned. It is taught through educational, familial and cultural messaging that reinforces smallness in the guise of humility and good behaviour. Smallness often begins in childhood. It comes from the lessons we get on letting others go first and not being loud. While these lessons are not inherently bad, they can morph into something dangerous. They can teach a young mind that to be accepted, they need to shrink themselves. These lessons are so normalised that they often go unnoticed until it is very late and the person has already internalised smallness.
The concept of smallness is especially evident in how women are expected to present themselves and behave. Policing around body size, posture and what is considered ‘feminine’ behaviour all play a role in making girls and women small. ‘Femininity’ is exalted despite coming with descriptions of smallness, such as being quiet, dainty and not taking up space. What is considered feminine are traits that ensure women and girls stay in line and can be easily governed.
Taking up physical space is deeply tied to body politics. Diet culture tells us that thinner is better. It pushes women to literally become smaller, often at the cost of their health. The fashion industry dictates shapes that restrict our moment, while public spaces are designed with men in mindfrom seat widths to safety. Fashion dictates shapes that restrict our movement.
Within the context of feminist thinking, this theme has been widely studied. Bell Hooks and other feminist academics have written on how repressive systems affect how people view themselves. Hooks discusses reclaiming one's voice as a form of resistance in ‘Teaching to Transgress’. Reclaiming one’s voice becomes an active form of resistance against a system that thrives on the smallness of women and other marginalised groups. Audre Lorde reminds us that our silence will not protect us. Being quiet and compliant only serves the status quo, which is biased against certain groups. Based on these sentiments, smallness as oppression becomes, while taking up space becomes more than survival, but also a path to liberation.
The Cost of Staying Small
Smallness often goes beyond physical appearance and enters the realm of ambition and self-expression. Patriarchal culture rewards women for making themselves small. Women and girls are praised for being accommodating, modest, and likeable. They are often cautioned against expressing themselves in loud and bold ways. They are also guided away from ambition, which is often termed as aggression when exhibited by women. By the time young girls reach adulthood, smallness feels natural.
The result of this is existing in a way that does not fully reflect their autonomy, and not living fully. The cost of shrinking oneself feels invisible until you take a closer look. Women live with muted ambitions and seek out fewer opportunities. This manifests as lost opportunities and dimmed potential. Additionally, there is the personal cost of smallness, which is an erosion of the self. This is brought about by internalised self-doubt. Women and people from marginalised groups often feel like impostors even in spaces where they rightfully belong. This internalised doubt makes people avoid certain spaces and conversations to their detriment. Living in a constant state of self-surveillance and limitation can have a gross emotional toll on an individual. It becomes very exhausting to constantly be policed and self-regulate. Life becomes a performance instead of being lived.
The Process of Unlearning Smallness
As smallness and shrinking of oneself are learned, they can be unlearned, too. This is a process of unlearning and re-learning to create our perceptions about ourselves. This process can be subtle or loud and depends on one's comfort level and safety considerations. For example, learning to uncross legs while sitting if crossing them was something taught that doesn't feel natural. Relaxing shoulders and taking deep breaths when in public can also be acts of rebellion. Expanding our physical presence through posture and movement communicates confidence, as it is a form of taking up space. It's not always about being loud but about being present in one's body without apology.
Taking up space is not just about our physical presence. It is asking for fair pay without softening the request. It can appear as holding opinions that are unpopular but necessary. It is allowing yourself to be creative and bold in a world that does not embrace your self-expression. Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own argued for literal and figurative space for women’s creative lives. In a practical context, that room might be a physical place, but it’s also the mental and emotional freedom to think without interruption.
A practical way to start on the journey of taking up space is speaking without prefacing with ‘ I might be wrong, but…’ or ‘ I don't know if I am making sense, but…” Speaking without the negative prefacing communicates confidence and lets the audience know that you have a right to your opinion. It gives your voice weight and validation.
Another important practice to take up space is setting boundaries without guilt. Often, women’s time, energy and emotions are treated without consideration. Being clear about your boundaries allows you to be present while protecting yourself. This can look like saying ‘No’ to tasks and requests that you do not have the capacity for. It may also look like setting time for oneself on a busy calendar. The most important thing to keep in mind is that prioritising oneself is not indulgent but a necessity for survival. Taking up space is not about being domineering; it is about being in your full humanity.
Conclusion
Given the extent of the impact of socialisation into smallness, taking up space is a lifelong practice. It is a feminist act of defying patriarchal norms that ask us to shrink ourselves. It challenges systems that rely on our silence, our politeness, our compliance. Taking up space goes beyond how others see you and is about how you see yourself. The most beautiful shift is internal, as when you stop shrinking, you come into yourself. You’re no longer an afterthought in your own life. Taking up space is about moving through the world as if you belong, because you do.
