Women are reputed never to be disgusted. The sad fact is that

Hear the piercing words of Germaine Greer, warrior of the feminist cause, who declared: “Women are reputed never to be disgusted. The sad fact is that they often are, but not with men; following the lead of men, they are most often disgusted with themselves.” In this single saying she unmasks a deep wound of society: that women, trained by culture to bear silently the faults of men, turn instead the sharp blade of contempt inward, against their own spirits, their own bodies, their own worth.

The first part of the saying exposes the reputation imposed upon women. They are often painted as endlessly forgiving, infinitely patient, bearers of men’s faults with a gentle smile. Tradition whispers that they are incapable of disgust, that they exist to comfort, to endure, to excuse. This reputation is not praise but a subtle chain, for it denies women the right to anger, to righteous rejection, to say, “This is intolerable.” By stripping them of the power to be disgusted with others, society robs them of the ability to defend their own dignity.

Yet Greer reveals the sad fact—that women do feel disgust, but it is redirected against themselves. Taught from girlhood that men’s weaknesses are natural and their own flaws are unforgivable, they internalize contempt. If a man is unfaithful, she wonders if she was not enough. If a man is cruel, she blames herself for provoking it. If society denies her opportunity, she sees herself as unworthy. Thus, the blade of disgust that should strike outward at injustice turns inward, wounding the very soul of the one who bears it.

History is heavy with examples. Consider the countless women of Victorian England, bound by ideals of purity and obedience. Men drank, gambled, and sought pleasure freely, yet women who faltered in the smallest degree were condemned by society and, worse still, condemned by themselves. The diaries of that era are filled with confessions of guilt, shame, and self-loathing—not because these women were truly guilty, but because they had absorbed the judgment of a culture that excused men and punished women. Greer’s words are an echo of this long injustice.

But there are also stories of defiance. Think of Mary Wollstonecraft, who in the 18th century declared boldly that women must cease to despise themselves, that they must claim equality not by imitation of men, but by the assertion of their own reason and worth. Her life was filled with scandal by the standards of her time, yet her voice broke through the silence, teaching generations of women to direct their disgust not inward, but toward the unjust systems that demanded their submission.

The lesson, then, is clear: women must not be taught to blame themselves for the faults of others. The true object of disgust should not be the self, but the structures and attitudes that create shame where there should be pride. To carry self-disgust is to carry chains; to cast it off is to walk free. Greer’s wisdom calls us to awaken, to see clearly how self-contempt is not born within, but planted there by a world that profits from women’s silence.

Practical is this counsel: if you are a woman, be mindful of the voice within that condemns you—ask whether it is truly your own, or the echo of a culture that has long denied you the right to protest. If you are a man, beware of the ways your words, actions, or silence may burden women with blame that does not belong to them. And for all, let us foster a society where self-respect is nourished, and where disgust is rightly aimed at cruelty, hypocrisy, and injustice—not at the hearts of those who suffer under them.

So remember Germaine Greer’s words: “The sad fact is that women are most often disgusted with themselves.” Let us make it no longer so. Let women reclaim their right to anger, their right to indignation, their right to dignity. And let no soul, man or woman, turn the knife of disgust inward, when the true target lies without, in the systems and lies that bind humanity in chains.