Why is it men are permitted to be obsessed about their work, but

The words of Barbra Streisand—“Why is it men are permitted to be obsessed about their work, but women are only permitted to be obsessed about men?”—strike like lightning against the walls of tradition. They reveal a double standard carved deep into culture, one that grants freedom to men while binding women with invisible chains. Streisand, herself a woman who carved her destiny in a world that sought to define her, exposes the hypocrisy: passion in a man is ambition, but passion in a woman is reproach. Her cry is not only personal but universal, echoing across centuries of silenced voices.

The origin of this injustice lies in the ancient ordering of society, where roles were divided not by choice but by expectation. Men were trained to labor, to govern, to lead, while women were told their highest calling was to marry and to nurture. Even when women of genius arose, their devotion to their craft was treated as unnatural. Thus the world applauded the single-minded pursuit of a Michelangelo or an Edison, but when a woman dared to be equally devoted, she was judged as unfeminine, selfish, or incomplete. Streisand’s question pierces this history: why should devotion to work be noble in one sex, yet suspect in the other?

Consider the life of Marie Curie, who gave herself wholly to science. Her discovery of radium and polonium changed the world, yet many dismissed her brilliance, attributing it to her husband, Pierre. Her obsession with research was seen as coldness, as though her devotion to truth diminished her worth as a woman. But history remembers otherwise: it was her passion for her work, her willingness to pursue knowledge beyond all limits, that earned her two Nobel Prizes and immortal honor. Her life answers Streisand’s question by living the truth: women, too, have the right to be consumed by their purpose.

Or recall Jane Austen, who in an age when women were expected to be preoccupied only with marriage, dared to make her work—the crafting of novels—her true obsession. Through her pen she revealed the folly of those very expectations, creating worlds where women’s wit and insight shone brighter than their suitors’ wealth. Though society sought to confine her, her art gave voice to the hidden thoughts of countless women. She chose to let her work be her devotion, and in doing so, she changed literature forever.

The lesson here is clear: passion knows no gender. To deny women the right to pour themselves into their work is to deny humanity half of its genius. When a man devotes himself, we call him visionary; when a woman does the same, we must learn to call her the same. True equality is not merely in law, but in culture—in the freedom of both men and women to give themselves wholly to the callings of their spirit.

Practical wisdom calls us to act. If you are a woman, do not shrink your devotion for fear of judgment. Let your work consume you if it is your calling, for in that fire your greatness will be forged. If you are a man, be not a gatekeeper but an ally; celebrate the passions of women as you would your own. And for all, challenge the whispers that dismiss a woman’s ambition, and instead lift them as noble, as necessary, as worthy of respect.

Thus, let Streisand’s words echo as an eternal challenge: cast aside the false measure that limits women to obsessions of love alone. Honor their right to be devoted to their craft, their purpose, their dreams. For in truth, the progress of the world depends not only on the ambitions of men, but also on the unleashed passions of women. And when both stand free to follow their work, the song of humanity shall rise in harmony, richer and fuller than ever before.