The Arrogance Is Not Arrogance: When a Woman’s Confidence Is Misnamed

The Arrogance Is Not Arrogance: When a Woman’s Confidence Is Misnamed

A playful "Lol. Your arrogance."

Three words that landed in my inbox after I'd shared my thoughts about building my career independently, about not banking my future on a spouse's support that might never materialise. Three words that encapsulate something women have been navigating for generations, the careful tightrope walk between confidence and what the world decides to call arrogance.

My response was immediate: "Not arrogance, pure confidence in who I am."

But here's the uncomfortable truth I've learned to embrace: when you're a woman who believes in herself, expect to be called arrogant. The literature has warned me. The women who blazed trails before me have shared their stories. I don't expect mine to be different.

The Misnaming of Female Ambition

The conversation that sparked this began innocently enough, a discussion about the supportive role wives play in their spouses' career progression. It's a narrative as old as time: the woman behind the successful man, the helpmeet, the cheerleader from the sidelines. And while there's nothing inherently wrong with partnership and mutual support, something in me bristles at the assumption that this should be the default story for women. I shared my perspective: I'm building through my personal endeavours, not necessarily relying on support that might not be there. This isn't pessimism, it's realism forged in the fire of watching too many capable women sideline their dreams while waiting for permission, validation, or partnership that never quite arrives in the form they need. My friend emphasised the power of co-creation with a husband, of building together. I'm not against this. Partnership is beautiful when it's genuinely mutual. But I'm also a realist who believes in harnessing my own power and strength to build what I want to see. I don't want to be carried along. I want to build side by side, or if necessary, alone.

In short, I believe in myself and my capacity to do. Apparently, this makes me arrogant.

The Invisible Ceiling in Our Own Homes

My friend Abena - we'll call her that- shared something that still haunts me. While pursuing her PhD, she felt her spouse was subtly, sometimes not so subtly, reminding her to "know her place." The unspoken message echoed loudly: Don't become too big. Remember to stay behind, just enough so I can continue to shine.

Let that sink in.

Here was a brilliant woman, expanding her mind, contributing to human knowledge, reaching for excellence, and being asked to dim her light so someone else's could appear brighter by comparison. Not because she was actually overshadowing anyone, but because her growth felt threatening. This is the quiet violence of misplaced expectations. It's not always overt oppression. Sometimes it's wrapped in the language of tradition, partnership, or even love. "We need to maintain balance," they say. "Remember what's important." As if your growth, your becoming, your self-actualisation is somehow at odds with a healthy relationship. The tragic irony? Two bright lights don't diminish each other. They illuminate more space together.

Confidence vs. Arrogance: A Gendered Double Standard

Let's be clear about what's happening here. When a man says, "I believe in my ability to build this business, to lead this project, to achieve this goal," we call it confidence, vision, leadership potential. We write books about his mindset. We study his habits. We ask him to mentor others. When a woman says the same thing, the label shifts, suddenly, it's arrogance. It is being difficult. It's not being a team player. It's forgetting where you came from or who helped you get there. It's threatening.

The difference isn't in the statement, it's in who's making it.

This linguistic sleight of hand is insidious because it works by gaslighting women into questioning their self-belief. You start to wonder: Am I being arrogant? Should I soften this? Should I diminish myself to make others comfortable? Here's what I've learned: If your confidence makes someone uncomfortable, that's valuable information not about you, but about them. It reveals their own insecurities, their internalised beliefs about what women should be, how much space we should take up, how brightly we should shine.

The Realist's Manifesto:

So let me be clear about what I mean when I say I'm a realist:

I believe in building my own foundation - not because partnership isn't valuable, but because I refuse to make my dreams contingent on someone else's permission, support, or stability. I've seen too many women derail their aspirations waiting for a partner to be ready, to be supportive, to catch up. Sometimes they're waiting still.
I believe in my capacity to do - this isn't arrogance, it's an accurate assessment of my skills, my determination, and my willingness to do the work. It's the same confidence that's celebrated in men and pathologised in women.
I believe in side-by-side partnership, not trailing-behind followership - I want a partner who isn't threatened by my growth, who doesn't need me smaller to feel bigger, who understands that my light doesn't dim theirs.
I believe in preparing for reality, not just hoping for ideals - yes, partnership can be beautiful. It can also fall apart. People change. Support ebbs and flows. Economic realities shift. Building your own capacity isn't pessimistic, it's responsible.

The Cost of Dimming Your Light

Let's talk about what happens when women internalise these messages and actually do "stay behind" to make others comfortable:

We lose our economic security - when we sideline our careers, defer our education, or downplay our abilities to maintain relationship harmony, we become financially vulnerable. Divorce, widowhood, or economic hardship can leave us scrambling.
We model limitations for the next generation - the girls watching us learn that their brightness is conditional, that their dreams should be negotiable, that making others comfortable is more important than becoming themselves.
We accumulate resentment - You cannot sustain indefinitely the act of making yourself smaller. Eventually, the resentment of unlived potential becomes toxic to you, to your relationships, to your sense of self.
We rob the world of our contributions - Every time a brilliant woman dims her light, the world loses. We lose innovations that won't be created, businesses that won't be built, research that won't be conducted, art that won't be made, and problems that won't be solved.

Reclaiming Confidence

So what do we do? How do we navigate a world that's uncomfortable with female confidence?

First, we name it - we call out the double standard when we see it. We ask: Would this be called arrogance if a man said it? We refuse to gaslight ourselves.
Second, we build anyway - Regardless of whether support materialises, regardless of who's comfortable or uncomfortable with our growth, we pursue our becoming. We get the degree. We start the business. We ask for the promotion. We write the book. We build the life we want to live.
Third, we seek partnerships that can handle our light - We don't shrink to fit into relationships that require our smallness. We find partners, romantic or otherwise, who aren't threatened by our growth, who celebrate our wins, who understand that both people can shine.
Fourth, we support each other - When we see another woman stepping into her confidence, we don't call it arrogance. We recognise it, celebrate it, and create space for it. We break the cycle of women policing other women's ambition.
Finally, we refuse to conflate confidence with arrogance - Confidence is believing in your capacity based on evidence and commitment. Arrogance is believing you're inherently superior to others. They're not the same thing, and we need to stop pretending they are when it's convenient to diminish women.

The Women Who Came Before

The women who blazed trails before me were called worse than arrogant. They were called unfeminine, unmarriageable, dangerous, crazy, and difficult. They were the suffragettes who fought for the vote. The activists who demanded equal pay. The scientists who insisted on being taken seriously. The writers who told uncomfortable truths. The leaders who refused to stay behind. They didn't stop because of the names they were called. They understood that the discomfort their confidence created was not their problem to solve by diminishing themselves. It was the world's problem to solve by expanding its capacity to handle powerful women.

I stand on their shoulders, and I won't dishonour their legacy by shrinking.

To My Friend Who Called It Arrogance

I hope you'll reconsider. What you witnessed wasn't arrogance, it was a woman who has learned not to make her future contingent on circumstances beyond her control. It was realism forged in watching capable women wait for permission that never came. It was confidence built through education, work, and the development of skills I know I possess. And to Abena, navigating the painful reminder to stay small: Your PhD isn't threatening. Your growth isn't a betrayal. Your light isn't too bright. Anyone who needs you to feel secure isn't ready for the partnership you deserve.

The Invitation

This is an invitation to all women reading this: Stop apologising for your confidence. Stop shrinking to make others comfortable. Stop calling your self-belief arrogance just because someone else is uncomfortable with it. Build your foundation, develop your skills, pursue your dreams, believe in your capacity to do, and when someone calls it arrogance, remember that they're revealing their own limitations, not yours.

The arrogance is not arrogance. It never was.

It's simply a woman who knows who she is, who believes in what she can do, and who refuses to apologise for either.

And that, my friends, is exactly as it should be.