It's never been a point of reference to look to a man. It's not

The words of Catherine Tate carry the quiet thunder of self-realization and strength. When she said, “It’s never been a point of reference to look to a man. It’s not always a good thing, I suppose, but I think independence is always preferable to dependence,” she spoke not only as an individual, but as a voice of countless souls who have sought freedom from the shadows of expectation. Her words, though modest in tone, are the song of centuries—of those who chose to walk their own path, even when that path was lonely, steep, or misunderstood. For in every age, there are those who must stand apart, who must learn that strength is not given—it is claimed.

To understand the meaning of her declaration, one must see the deeper truth behind it. Tate, a woman in an industry long dominated by men, carved her place not by imitation, but by conviction. Her words are not born from rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but from the wisdom that comes when one’s worth is no longer measured by comparison. To “not look to a man” is not to reject men—it is to reject dependency as identity, to refuse to make another’s approval the foundation of one’s existence. Her reflection acknowledges that independence can be isolating, even difficult—but she affirms that freedom, with all its challenges, is a nobler burden than submission gilded in comfort.

In the history of the world, many have shared this struggle—especially women who dared to live beyond the boundaries drawn for them. Consider the story of Mary Wollstonecraft, the 18th-century philosopher who wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. In a time when women were expected to be silent and submissive, she raised her voice to proclaim that the mind of a woman was as capable, as brilliant, and as divine as any man’s. She suffered ridicule, poverty, and scorn, yet she stood unbowed. Like Catherine Tate, she knew that dependence, even when it is praised as virtue, is a form of quiet imprisonment. Her courage planted the seeds of generations who would one day walk freer paths.

Independence, as Tate speaks of it, is not merely the refusal to rely—it is the mastery of self. It is the power to make choices guided by conscience, not fear; to live without waiting for permission. But she also speaks with humility, acknowledging that this strength has a cost. For independence often means standing alone when others expect conformity. It means enduring the silence of those who misunderstand freedom as arrogance, or self-sufficiency as pride. Yet, as the ancients knew, solitude is the furnace where the soul is tempered. Only by walking alone can one hear the full voice of their own spirit.

Let this truth be remembered: dependence may seem gentle, but it dulls the edge of the will. It offers safety, but steals the strength to grow. Those who depend on others for worth, for direction, for validation, will never know the vast, untamed power of their own hearts. As the eagle cannot learn to soar by clinging to the nest, so the human spirit cannot discover its greatness through reliance. Independence, though fierce and sometimes lonely, grants a deeper peace—the peace of self-respect.

Yet, Catherine Tate’s wisdom is not one of pride, but of balance. She admits that to never look to another can also be a fault—that complete isolation can harden the heart. True independence is not the denial of connection, but the refusal of servitude. It is the art of standing firm beside others, not beneath them. In the ancient way, it is like the mountain and the river: one unmoving, the other flowing, yet both in harmony. The mountain does not depend upon the river for its form, nor the river upon the mountain for its path—but together they create the landscape of the world.

And so, let the lesson of this saying be carved into the heart: seek independence of mind, not arrogance of spirit. Love freely, but do not lose yourself in love. Work with others, but do not let them define your worth. Learn from those around you, but never forget that wisdom grows strongest when nourished by your own roots.

The practical path is this: cultivate your skills, your mind, your self-trust. Stand upon your own foundation before you build bridges to others. When you find yourself leaning too heavily on another’s approval, step back and remember your own strength. Dependence may promise comfort, but independence brings truth—and truth, though sharp as a blade, is what shapes heroes, creators, and free souls.

For in the end, as Catherine Tate reminds us, it is better to walk upright and alone in the storm of life than to sit sheltered in the shadow of another’s will. Independence, though demanding, is the light that keeps the human spirit alive.