Actress Geena Davis spent some time reflecting upon a lesson she learned from her “Thelma and Louise” co-star Susan Sarandon – and how it changed Davis’ life – during a recent appearance on actor Dax Shepherd’s podcast, “Armchair Expert.”
Not a lesson on the craft of acting, but rather, on refusing to apologize when not necessary.
“I was constantly apologizing for having an opinion, and for existing, let alone having thoughts about something,” Davis said of her earlier self. To that point, she recalls having some ideas for the early script of the feminist classic film, and planning the “girliest possible way” to present those suggestions to director Ridley Scott.
But then, during the first script reading with Scott, “Susan says ‘Ridley, you know what? My first line here, I don’t think we need it, or we could put it in the next scene.’ And he was like, ‘Yeah, sure.’” That fleeting, plain suggestion took Davis aback. “I was literally like – how did she just do that? How come she didn’t find out first how he’d react or something?”
It’s so relatable.
How many of us women have wished for that sort of self-assurance? And how many of us have struggled to access it, as Davis did? Speaking for myself, I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve apologized in a variety of contexts where “sorry” wasn’t necessary, ranging from the absurd to the infuriating.
I’ve said sorry for sneezing too loudly, or more than two times in a row. I’ve said sorry to chair legs I’ve accidentally nudged with my feet, to mannequins I’ve accidentally grazed with my arm, to doors I’ve closed with more force than intended – and once, to my own reflection, when I softly bumped an especially reflective window with my backpack while leaving a cafe.
And… I’ve said sorry to former bosses for asking to stay home because I was sick – coughing and aching through my apologies for needing to rest. I’ve said sorry in meetings for interjecting with an alternative perspective – sharing genuinely valuable, knowledgeable insights and ideas of mine in soft, small, easily chewable pieces that were preempted with apologies. I’ve said sorry to former partners for voicing my hurt at their disregard or mistreatment of me – as if naming their bad behavior were somehow the real transgression.
In these moments, I’d even begin with the words “I’m sorry, but…” – as though I needed to apologize for speaking at all, nevermind doing so to name a need, or a want, or a thought.
Admittedly, I’m far less likely to do so these days, but I remember the impulse, and understand it in others. This isn’t merely an anecdotal observation – studies, including one published just last month, show that women are more prone to such behavior.
Why? Psychologist Stephen Hinshaw, who is also a professor of psychology at the University of California, Berkeley, used focus groups to uncover one reason: An effect of the pressure placed upon women to fit into what he calls a “triple bind” – an expectation that we be equal parts compassionate, competitive and sexually desirable, at all times. It’s impossible, he told CNN – “but if that’s what the culture expects of you, then you internalize the failure.”
And when we women fall short, we’re predisposed to apologize for it in ways men aren’t, due to our lower “apology thresholds,” according to a 2010 study on this phenomenon.
What’s worse is that some men exacerbate the problem by fostering dynamics where we women feel the need to contort ourselves to be, if not pleasing, then at least palatable. Some men, like President Donald Trump, even try to use this all to their advantage, by attempting to shame us into silence by calling out our noncompliance to such standards in public settings.
And it costs us – beyond the emotional and psychological drain of being regularly sorry, we stand to lose out on income and opportunities we deserve by undercutting ourselves.
Which is why the presence of women like Sarandon is so cathartic for women still stuck in the apology loop. And, it’s why it matters for us to embody her behavior ourselves, especially in our places of work – to show others that even if we speak up, sans “sorry,” it’ll be alright.
Perhaps even more than alright. Per Davis: “I had never been in the presence of a woman who doesn’t apologize for existing. Ever. And everybody loved her.” ◼️
