A woman who thinks she is intelligent demands the same rights as

"A woman who thinks she is intelligent demands the same rights as man. An intelligent woman gives up." So spoke Sidonie Gabrielle Colette, the French writer who lived fiercely, who loved without apology, and who defied the cages society built for her. At first hearing, her words may sound bitter, even cruel, as though mocking the struggle for equality. But in truth, within this paradox burns the flame of a deeper wisdom: that the intelligent woman recognizes a world built by men, weighed down by custom, and she chooses her battles not with loud demands but with cunning, resilience, and quiet triumph.

The origin of this teaching lies in the world Colette inhabited. In early twentieth-century France, women were expected to remain in the shadows—obedient, silent, bound to hearth and husband. Colette herself was silenced for years, her early works published under her husband’s name, her genius hidden beneath another’s claim. She knew intimately the futility of demanding “the same rights,” for society was deaf to such cries. Yet she refused to be extinguished. Instead of bowing to despair, she crafted her independence through art, through performance, through scandal if necessary. This, perhaps, is her meaning: the intelligent woman may forgo the endless demand for permission and instead seize her own life, by her own terms.

Consider the story of Empress Theodora of Byzantium, once an actress of lowly status, mocked by her society, yet destined to rise as the wife and equal of Emperor Justinian. She did not beg men for rights; she carved her own, through wit, courage, and iron resolve. When rebellion threatened Constantinople, Justinian himself quailed and thought of fleeing, but Theodora rose and declared, “Royalty is a fine burial shroud.” With her fierce spirit, she inspired him to stay, and together they crushed the revolt. She did not ask for equality—she embodied it, and in so doing, bent history to her will. This is the wisdom Colette names: that sometimes the path to freedom is not through demands, but through action, creation, and endurance.

Yet, beware misunderstanding. Colette does not dismiss the struggle for justice, nor does she scorn the courage of those who demanded rights for women. Rather, she points to a truth harsh as winter: that the world, as it is, rarely yields to demands alone. The intelligent woman knows that power is not always granted—it must be lived, it must be taken, it must be proved until it cannot be denied. She advises not surrender of spirit, but surrender of wasted effort against deaf ears, turning instead toward paths of true influence.

This teaching is both sorrowful and empowering. It is sorrowful because it reflects a world where women’s voices were stifled, where cries for equality were too often ignored. Yet it is empowering because it reveals another path: the path of quiet conquest, of bending the world without announcing one’s will, of transforming reality by living as though equality already exists. The intelligent woman, in Colette’s paradox, ceases to ask permission; she becomes the author of her own freedom.

The lesson for us, then, is twofold. First, do not waste your strength shouting at walls that will not fall. Instead, build your own house, light your own fire, and let the brilliance of your life stand as proof against injustice. Second, know that true intelligence lies in persistence, in creativity, in courage that does not depend on permission. Rights that are demanded may be denied; but rights that are lived, embodied, and insisted upon through action—these become unshakable.

What practical steps, then, should we take? Women—and men who walk beside them—must learn to channel their energy wisely. Create, achieve, and embody equality in every sphere you touch. Refuse to wait for permission to live fully. Speak truth where it can be heard, but when silence blocks the ear, let your actions thunder louder than words. In this way, you follow Colette’s paradoxical wisdom: demanding nothing, yet gaining everything.

So let this saying be carried forward: the intelligent woman does not waste her spirit begging at closed doors; she builds her own doorway. She gives up only the fight for permission, but never the fight for life. And in doing so, she teaches us all—women and men alike—that true power lies not in demand, but in becoming.