When women are encouraged to be competitive, too many of them

The words of Benjamin Spock—“When women are encouraged to be competitive, too many of them become disagreeable”—echo with the weight of cultural assumptions that have shaped generations. They remind us not only of the prejudice that once defined social order, but also of the tension between societal expectation and individual ambition. Spock was a healer of children, but in this utterance he reveals the long shadow of a world that measured women not by their strength, but by their willingness to please. To be competitive was seen as noble in men, but unbecoming in women. To strive was praised in one sex, condemned in the other.

The origin of this thought lies deep in the traditions of patriarchy, where women were told that their worth was found not in victory, but in gentleness, not in conquest, but in harmony. To be agreeable, compliant, and nurturing was the measure of femininity. Yet when women dared to break free, when they showed the fire of ambition, they were branded disagreeable—not because they had failed, but because they had dared to rival men in their own arena. Thus, Spock’s words reveal less about women than about the cultural lens through which they were judged.

History gives us countless examples. Consider Joan of Arc, a young woman who led armies with fire and conviction. To her supporters, she was chosen of God, a warrior-saint. To her enemies, and even to many of her own people, she was disagreeable, unfeminine, a threat to the order of things. Yet her competitiveness, her refusal to yield, saved her nation in its darkest hour. The label of disagreeable was the weapon of those who feared the power of a woman unleashed.

Or think of Elizabeth I of England, who ruled in a world of men and was told again and again that her duty was to marry, to soften, to submit. Yet she embraced the strength of sovereignty, declaring she had the “heart and stomach of a king.” She was called cold, cunning, and disagreeable, but under her reign England flourished, and her name endures in history as “Gloriana.” Her competitiveness was not weakness, but the very source of her greatness.

The meaning of Spock’s words, then, must be seen in their cultural frame. They show us how language was used to confine women: to encourage them toward mildness, but never to ambition; to celebrate them for nurturing, but never for striving. But time has revealed the truth: it is not competitiveness that makes a woman disagreeable, but the prejudice that seeks to shame her for it. Strength in women is no less noble than strength in men; ambition in women no less natural than ambition in men.

The lesson is clear: be wary of words that disguise chains as wisdom. When told that ambition makes you less lovable, less feminine, less agreeable, remember the countless women who were called disagreeable in their time but honored in history. True character is not measured by the comfort it gives others, but by the truth it embodies. A spirit that strives for greatness, whether in man or woman, is a flame to be guarded, not a fault to be hidden.

Practical wisdom calls us to act with courage. Encourage women and men alike to be ambitious, to be competitive in the pursuit of excellence, and to temper their striving with honor, not with fear of judgment. Do not silence the voices that disturb complacency, for those voices are often the heralds of change. And if you are called disagreeable because you have chosen to rise, wear the word as a crown, for it means you have unsettled the chains of expectation.

Thus, let us carry forward the deeper truth hidden within Spock’s flawed words: society will always try to tame those who rise beyond its comfort. But to be competitive, to strive, to refuse to yield, is not a fault but a calling. And when women embrace this with pride, they stand shoulder to shoulder with the great souls of history, forging a path not only for themselves but for generations yet unborn.