Jessica Zucker, Ph.D., is on a mission to empower women to tell their stories. By normalizing talking about difficult things, she aims open the door to creating cultural change that acknowledges and supports women’s truths.
Her new book, “NORMALIZE IT: Upending the Silence, Stigma, and Shame That Shape Women’s Lives,” is the mirror, motivator and manifesto for women to let go of “shoulds.” Her hope is that this book becomes a guide in helping women replace antiquated cultural silence with storytelling.
Tell us why you decided to write this book.
This is a timeless but also incredibly timely topic that rests on the minds of most, if not all, women. The book tackles topics from girlhood through menopause — and everything in between — with the aim of illuminating just how insidious cultural messaging can be, starting in girlhood and weaving its way through the various milestones we navigate over the course of our lives.
Composite patient stories bring these issues to life by showing how people wrestle with each phase, with the taboos that strangulate, and how they come to better understand why they are who they are in the therapy setting (and outside of it).
We get a window into the complexity of what it means to scour our pain, our joy, our hopes, our anger, our disappointments in an effort to live with more freedom and flexibility. To shed shame. To step into more ease and vulnerability. And step far, far away from silence and stigma that no longer serve us.
You weave in stories of women throughout the book. What are some of the common struggles you see in your practice?
In the first chapter I unpack the various stereotypes and cultural pressures girls and women are bombarded with throughout their lives. The “shoulds” we contend with, the expectations placed on us, the assumptions that loom.
Girlhood is typically the place where it all begins (silence, stigma, shame, repeat). We begin to muffle our voices (presumably unknowingly since we are too young perhaps to be conscious of this while it’s unfolding). We learn not to speak up or take up space in a bold way. We learn to not know what we know.
In writing this chapter I was poised to do a deep dive into my own childhood experiences, to think back and try to understand the ways in which I was impacted by cultural and familial norms, and how the societal pressures—both subtle and demonstrative—shaped the woman I am today.
I see these “shoulds” illuminated day in and day out in my clinical practice. As a psychologist that specializes in reproductive and maternal mental health, I commonly sit with women who are trying to conceive, struggling with fertility issues, grieving following pregnancy and infant loss, stillbirth, terminating for medical reasons, and navigating perinatal and postpartum mood and anxiety disorders.
The simplest way to achieve an antidote to this unhelpful cycle of shame is to speak our truths. To persist in telling our stories. To gently and unequivocally resist self-blame—to remember that we are, in fact, not alone.
Do you think moms in Los Angeles are facing challenges that are unique to our city? If so, tell us about those challenges?
This is an interesting question that I think is hard to fully know the answer to because I haven’t surveyed women elsewhere, but I do think the pressure of perfection is all too pervasive in Los Angeles and moms are no exception.
I address the prevalence of perfectionism and its root causes in Chapter 3 because it is such a common thread in women’s lives, I thought it deserved its own chapter. What I often hear in my practice and from friends alike is the incessant suspicion that we are somehow, someway, not good enough. We might be accomplished, powerful, and valued in our communities. Sometimes, we can feel secure in that knowledge and take pride in ourselves. But because we exist in a culture that inundates us from the moment we are born with a firehose of often contradictory messages about what we “should” be in order to be considered successful, many women I speak with experience the creeping feeling of inadequacy as a low-grade (or sometimes high-grade) sense of anxiety. It seeps into our psyches, coloring our ability to fully enjoy our hard-earned successes. Most patients I work with have some experience with this duality, feeling confident in some aspects of their lives while also experiencing anxiety and the pressure of perfection.
Social media makes the comparison game almost entirely inescapable. The more we scroll through perfectly curated images, the more we inevitably compare ourselves against their virtual versions. And of course, it’s not just social media. In Los Angeles, the billboards are strewn with images that can evoke these feelings as well. Restaurants, bars, parties, events, and even mundane outings like going to the grocery store might provoke feelings of not-enoughness, as these places might be chock-full of people who you’ve seen on TV, movie screens, or even if you haven’t, they might look like you have.
New moms in Los Angeles might feel the pressure to look like they were never pregnant even sooner than most because of the unending focus on thinness and “bouncing back”. Moms in this city may also be even more inundated by the latest trends in how moms “should” birth, breastfeed or bottle feed, cook for their children, what the kids “should” be exposed to and not be exposed to, and, of course, which schools they should eventually attend.
As moms, how can we create a safe space for other moms to share more comfortably about the real parts of their lives?
The short answer is: by replacing silence with storytelling. One story at a time will collectively create safer spaces to be real and raw about what we are really going through. But I’m not sure it’s incumbent upon moms to create safe spaces as much as it is vital that they try to be as honest and as open as they can, first and foremost with themselves, and then with trusted people around them.
The more nuanced and complex answer is: resistance to divulging our innermost emotions isn’t only caused by fear of vulnerability. Sometimes it’s simply a matter of not knowing where to begin. Like a child who has never walked before, we often need to watch others take the first step so we can, in turn, feel confident in taking a step of our own. And at a time when we’re arguably more overworked than ever before, the emotional labor required to properly consider, identify, and finally share a feeling (or many) can be daunting.
It’s okay to start small. Open up to someone you know you can trust. Share what you’re going through and don’t sugarcoat it. Whisper into the ear of your neighbor how you’re really feeling. Small, significant steps can result in enormous cultural strides.
Every time we dare to talk about the hard things, we create ripple effects that ultimately help shape and shift the “master narrative”. The stigmas. The “shoulds.” In the face of this revolutionary zeitgeist shift, we have the chance to exist in the mess without feeling we are the mess. And when we don’t speak our truths—when we shove our stories down and remain quiet in the “shoulds”—we suffer. We don’t need gobs of people to turn to, we just need a handful of quality people who get it. Who truly, deeply get us. These connections can make all the difference.
How can we help our daughters share more openly?
I’ve been wrestling with this idea for some time now. My daughter is 11 and beginning to navigate puberty as I find myself smack dab in the throes of perimenopause. It’s an interesting coupling. I think the best thing we can do for our developing girls is model for them what we wished we’d seen growing up. Openness. Expression of emotions. Perhaps this could be kicked off by talking about feelings at the dinner table each night with a ritual of “What are you grateful for? And what was a thorn (difficult part) in your day?” By normalizing talking about all the things—the good, the bad, and the ugly—we create an environment at home that is safe, consistent, loving and open. Nothing is off limits when it comes to talking about what they are going through, what they are feeling, and any burning questions they might have about developing into women. If we can instill in our daughters that all feelings are valid, that feelings are not facts, and that talking about the complexity of things can help us navigate them, we will bring up a generation of girls who feel confident in speaking up, taking up space in discussions, and expressing feelings without censoring the tougher ones.
What are some insights you gained after writing this book?
In the composite patient examples throughout the book, patients work through their struggles out loud in the therapy room and grapple with how to speak their truths in other spaces: with friends and family, in support groups, in writing, in public forums, and elsewhere. “NORMALIZE IT” gives us a bird’s-eye view into the complexity of what it means to investigate our pain, relish our joy, explore our anger, and sit in our grief in an effort to fully feel the spectrum of feelings and maybe even experience a sense of liberation as a result.
Curating these stories felt effortless in many ways because of the hundreds of women I’ve sat with in my office over the last decade and a half. Due to their openness and eagerness to do the work in therapy, I have had the privilege of getting to know people in such dynamic and emotionally intimate ways. In some cases, it felt quite complex delving into these patient portraits as I was also attempting to be mindful of the trajectory of my life and the things I’ve navigated over the years, wanting to be sure to pepper in aspects of my own life lessons—the pitfalls and the triumphs, the pain and the hard-won wisdom. This book is not a memoir, but I wanted to be sure to look at myself, too, and the lived experiences I bring as a psychologist to the therapy setting in order to do the book justice.
I gleaned insight into the human psyche, the resilience people often muster when faced with unfathomable hardship, the pain people carry deep in their souls, and the hope that often remains nevertheless. Turning to the research on the various topics covered in this book also yielded important insight about the poignant statistics surrounding the loneliness epidemic, the percentage of women struggling with shame, and the ways in which our early lives affect the people we become.
What’s one piece of advice you wish all women knew?
The work of creating more empathy and authenticity in our lives and communities begins with telling our stories. Especially the hard ones. Your stories matter. You matter! For the women who live with their stories untold, you are not alone. When we speak our truths, we have the potential to be part of igniting a personal and cultural revolution. If and when you’re ready, dare to share.
Let’s dare to speak what we have been taught to think is the unspeakable.
Let’s muster the courage to believe in our stories and the power they hold.
Let’s, once and for all, normalize talking about the hard things.
Jessica Zucker is a Los Angeles-based psychologist specializing in reproductive health and the author of the award-winning book “I HAD A MISCARRIAGE: A Memoir, a Movement.” Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, New York Magazine, Vogue, and Harvard Business Review, among others. Her second book,” NORMALIZE IT: Upending the Silence, Stigma, and Shame That Shape Women’s Lives,” is out now and available everywhere books are sold.
