The first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn

The wise Gloria Steinem, voice of courage and awakener of generations, once spoke a truth as piercing as the morning star: “The first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn, but to unlearn.” In these words lies a challenge greater than any lesson taught in books—the sacred labor of cleansing the mind. For to learn is to gather knowledge, but to unlearn is to cast off falsehood; to tear away the vines of ignorance that choke the tree of truth. Before we can fill the vessel with wisdom, we must first pour out the stagnant water. This, Steinem reminds us, is the first and hardest work of the awakened spirit.

From birth, we are not blank slates, but fields sown by the hands of others—parents, teachers, traditions, and societies. Some seeds are good: love, kindness, faith. Others are weeds: fear, prejudice, blind obedience. These roots grow deep, entwining themselves around our hearts, whispering old lies in familiar voices. We are taught not only what to know, but what to believe, whom to fear, how to behave. Thus, the first act of true wisdom is rebellion against falsehood—the courage to unlearn what no longer serves truth or justice. For no man or woman is free who has not examined the beliefs that bind them.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, the stargazer of Florence. In his age, men had been taught for centuries that the Earth was the center of all creation, that the heavens revolved around us by divine design. It was a comforting illusion, and few dared to question it. But Galileo looked through his telescope and saw a different truth—moons orbiting Jupiter, planets moving through vast space. The truth was before their eyes, yet men could not see it, for they were blinded not by ignorance, but by habit. Galileo was forced to unlearn what generations had accepted as sacred. For this, he was condemned—but time proved him right. Thus, all progress begins not with learning something new, but with the courage to unlearn the old.

The ancients too understood this paradox. In the temples of the East, teachers would first empty the minds of their students before filling them. A Zen master once poured tea into a student’s cup until it overflowed. “Why do you pour so much?” cried the student. “Because,” said the master, “like this cup, your mind is already full. Until you empty it, I cannot teach you.” So it is with life: the vessel of wisdom cannot receive until pride, assumption, and inherited blindness have been poured away. To unlearn is to become humble again—to become a student of truth rather than a servant of tradition.

Steinem’s words, though forged in the fires of modern struggle, echo the wisdom of every age. She spoke them not only for women breaking chains of oppression, but for all souls trapped by invisible prisons—those of thought, culture, and fear. The unlearning she speaks of is the rebirth of perception, the awakening of the self that says: “This is not mine; it was given to me, and I may release it.” Whether it is the belief that one is less than another, or that strength requires domination, or that truth must always come from authority—these illusions must die before a new humanity can rise.

But take heed: unlearning is not an act of destruction, but of renewal. It is the clearing of the field before planting anew. It is painful, yes—because the mind clings to its patterns, and the heart fears uncertainty. Yet only through this inner storm can the dawn of freedom break. The greatest battles are not fought with swords, but within the chambers of the mind, where courage must face comfort and wisdom must conquer conditioning.

Therefore, let this be your lesson: do not rush to learn more until you have first asked what you must unlearn. Question your assumptions as a blacksmith tests his metal. Examine your habits, your opinions, your fears—who gave them to you, and do they serve truth or merely comfort? Cast off the old skins that no longer fit your soul. For the one who unlearns walks the path of awakening, while the one who clings to false knowledge remains in shadow.

And when at last you stand in that radiant emptiness—freed of illusion, humbled before truth—you will find that you are ready, truly ready, to learn. Not the borrowed words of others, but the living wisdom that flows from your own awakened heart. This is the work of the enlightened, the art of unlearning: to strip away the false until only truth remains, shining, eternal, and free.