We're comfortable with women in certain roles but not comfortable

Host: The dusk had settled in, the last traces of light lingering on the horizon, while the café became bathed in the soft glow of the lamps hanging overhead. Outside, the world moved in a hurry, people walking with purpose, their silhouettes framed by the glass. Inside, the quiet murmur of conversation and the soft hum of background music filled the air. Jack and Jeeny sat in the corner, their coffee cups barely touched, as the conversation between them grew more contemplative. Jeeny was the first to speak, her voice quiet but charged with curiosity.

Jeeny: “I came across something by Libba Bray today that I can’t stop thinking about. She said, ‘We’re comfortable with women in certain roles but not comfortable with women expressing anger or fully accepting their power. The most daring question a woman can ask is, ‘What do I want?’’” She looked at Jack, her expression steady. “What do you think? Do you think society is really that uncomfortable with women owning their power?”

Jack: He took a slow sip from his coffee, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. “I think there’s some truth to it. We talk about empowering women, about breaking barriers, but at the same time, we still hold on to these old ideas of what women should be—what their roles are, where they should fit in. When women express anger, when they claim their space, we label it as unacceptable, as if it’s not allowed. I mean, how many times have we seen women in positions of power who are criticized for being ‘too aggressive’ or ‘too emotional’?” He leaned back, his voice growing more reflective. “It’s like we’re comfortable with women in certain boxes, but the second they try to break out of them, it’s a problem.”

Host: The light in the café seemed to shift with his words, a slight tension hanging in the air, as though the conversation was about to dive deeper. Jeeny’s gaze never wavered, her mind clearly turning over the weight of his statement.

Jeeny: “Exactly. And that’s where I think Bray’s point hits home—the question that women are taught not to ask is the one that challenges everything: ‘What do I want?’ We’re told what we should want, what roles we should fit into. But what happens when a woman dares to ask that question? When she starts to define her own desires, her own boundaries? What happens when she steps into her power fully, without apology?” Her voice grew a little more passionate, as if she were searching for something deeply held inside. “I think that question is revolutionary because it asks women to take control, not just over their lives but over the narratives that are written for them.”

Jack: “It’s a dangerous question, in a way,” Jack responded, his tone slightly chiding, but there was a deep acknowledgment in his voice now. “Asking that question—‘What do I want?’—puts women in direct opposition to what society has prescribed for them. It makes them visible in a way they’ve been taught not to be. And I think that’s where the resistance comes from. When a woman asks that question and answers it, she’s no longer just a passive participant in life. She’s taking control of it, and that makes a lot of people uncomfortable.”

Jeeny: “Exactly,” she said, the fire in her voice evident. “It’s about visibility, yes, but it’s also about agency—the ability to choose, to define yourself without waiting for someone else’s permission. I mean, think about it. How many times have we seen men asked that question without hesitation, without judgment? But when a woman asks, ‘What do I want?’ suddenly she’s selfish, too ambitious, too much. She’s labeled. She’s categorized. But the reality is, if women aren’t allowed to claim their desires, their anger, their power, then they’re not allowed to live fully. They’re only allowed to live within the limits that others have set for them.” Her voice softened, but there was no less weight behind her words. “That’s why it’s a daring question—it’s the beginning of owning your life.”

Host: The air between them felt charged, as though their words were creating a subtle shift in the space around them. The city beyond the window continued to pass by, but the quiet in the café seemed to settle into something more thoughtful, more urgent. Jack’s expression had softened, his eyes more focused now.

Jack: “I think I get it now. It’s not just about asking the question—it’s about claiming the space to ask it. To take up room. To be unapologetic about what you want, about your voice, about your anger. The world doesn’t like it when women step into that power because it challenges the way things have always been. And that makes people uncomfortable—because suddenly, women aren’t just following the rules, they’re writing their own.”

Jeeny: “And that’s the shift we need,” she said quietly, but there was a deep satisfaction in her tone now, as though a realization had been reached. “It’s about daring to own your story, to own your voice, and to demand that space—no apologies, no second thoughts. It’s about letting women not just fit into what society expects, but letting them become who they were always meant to be, without the fear of what that might look like to others.”

Host: The soft hum of the café seemed to settle into a comfortable stillness, as if their words had found their mark. Outside, the rain had slowed to a quiet drizzle, and the city lights now reflected off the wet pavement, casting a soft glow on the world beyond. Jack and Jeeny sat in that shared moment of understanding, the weight of their conversation sinking in like a well-timed note in a song. Perhaps the most daring question wasn’t about what women had been taught to want, but about claiming the space to ask: “What do I want?” And in that question lay the potential for real freedom, real power.