In the landscape of language, the ubiquitous phrase “I’m sorry” reveals itself as a peculiar taste enjoyed by picky and indiscriminate palates alike. It has woven itself into our daily conversations, transforming genuine remorse into a linguistic reflex. Upon considering my own tendency to apologize, a nuanced pattern unfolds, blurring the line between selflessness and compensation for a self-perceived selfishness.
Over the course of my youth, “I’m sorry” was a common courtesy, a nod to the etiquette that framed my social dispositions. Politeness, embellished with the overuse of these “magic” words, shaped my verbal cadence. However, this inclination towards obsessive apologizing extended beyond the walls of my household, evolving into a societal norm — a tool to maintain rapport and safeguard reputations.
While not all apologies lack genuine remorse, their prevalence has become a cultural convention constructed within frameworks of power and gender dynamics. The frequent use of the phrase does not necessarily denote universal sincerity; instead, they echo a habitual script, guiding the threshold between hubris and humility.
Notably, this societal script has a disproportionate impact on women. A recent piece of feedback from a close friend who listened to a podcast of mine struck a chord: “You have to have confidence in your ideas,” she emphasized. “You follow up so many valid points with ‘I don’t know’ or preface them with ‘I’m sorry, but…’.” This feedback prompted introspection, revealing the pervasiveness of this habit within myself and its manifestation in those around me.
While this phenomenon is not exclusive to women, nor do all women resonate with it, the thought stands: Why are women seemingly caught in a perpetual state of repentance? Escaping the confines of this linguistic norm becomes not just a personal endeavor but a collective imperative, challenging the deeply ingrained gender dynamics that perpetuate the apology habit and establishing a communication landscape where “I’m sorry” is not inextricably bound to our perceived notion of politeness.
One frequently suggested theory for this occurrence is that being perceived as rude or demanding as a woman is so detestable that we must express remorse for making our voices known. A University of Waterloo, Canada study expands upon this, stating that women apologize more frequently than men due to us having a lower threshold for what is perceived as rude. By extension, we are more inclined to see the need for an apology across various situations.
However, I am skeptical of this explanation amidst the rise of influential female leaders and role models and the growing advocacy for the liberated woman. Instead, I propose frequently using “I’m sorry” as a subtle form of mutiny — a term aptly applied when the situation is clearly not our fault. It becomes a strategic maneuver, born out of our conditioning, to present our basic demands appealingly, a means to receive the respect and fundamental needs we deserve.
In this context, our use of “I’m sorry” transforms from a submissive response to a form of rebellion, a spiteful maneuver against the expectation that we should shoulder the blame in situations where it doesn’t belong.
Apologizing in the face of mansplaining, prefacing our discomforts or brilliant ideas or initiating confrontations with inappropriate work colleagues using phrases like “I’m sorry but…” isn’t an attempt to project mild-manneredness. Instead, it may be a deliberate response, a prompt to defy centuries of restrained speech and instructed silence.
Or perhaps the phrase serves as a disguise for our shared discontent with systems that perpetuate the socially constructed legacy of our servitude — manifesting pent-up annoyance, impatience and complete intolerance by way of “I’m sorry.”
While it may seem radical, my proposition functions as an attempt to reorient the normative frameworks in which “I’m sorry” seems to reside. Because, quite frankly, I’m not sorry for demanding that my feelings be acknowledged, nor am I sorry for sending back the undercooked chicken to the restaurant kitchen or interrupting the guy at the bar who starts mansplaining to me — because, yes, sir, as someone who has played tennis for fourteen years, I do, in fact, know what a forehand is.
Eve Iulo is a second-year in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. She can be reached at [email protected].