Opinion
Gossiping isn’t evil, it’s our feminine duty
By Eliza Reilly
Picture this: there I was, enjoying a beer with my friend Hugh when he dropped a bombshell. Hugh was uncomfortable with the amount of gossiping and warned me that I should resist talking about people when they were not in the room. I was confused. What else was I supposed to chat about over a frothy, cold beer: solve the mysteries of the universe? Pfft, please – I’d need more than beer if that was the plan.
Everyone seems to detest a woman who is known as a gossip, but this year, I decided to take up the habit full-time. After all, women have always been revered gossipers; it’s one of our superpowers, among other talents like predicting exactly the moment someone is about to cry and the inability to say a simple “thank you” when given a compliment.
The art of talking about people when they’re not in the room deserves a positive rebrand.Credit: iStock
Gossip isn’t just mindless chit-chat. Unlike spreading rumours or misinformation, gossiping is a social art that can only be done in real life and face-to-face. It’s uniquely spicier than venting and more benevolent than a bitchfest. The best quality gossip can usually be found in the women’s bathroom at a hen’s night or across dodgy coleslaw at a workplace BBQ, but the possibilities are endless.
I describe it as fizz-wizz for the brain—a juicy, wriggly sort of sensation that shoots from your lips and ears down into your boots. This feeling intensifies when one obtains, often through salacious means, a fresh chunk of gossip, making it feel like someone has shaken up the can of Passiona inside my heart.
But here’s the kicker: we still suffer a hangover from a bygone era that branded gossiping as “a silly pastime for girls”. If we’re all honest with ourselves, we’d admit that all Australians love a good old gossip session, and so do I. For one thing, there is a look on friends’ faces when I share some gossip with them, especially when they’re not expecting it. The sparkle in their eyes, the flare of the nostrils, and the gasping! Lord, forgive me, I adore the gasping.
And when you’re on the receiving end, it feels like that sharp inhale of air after being dumped by a wave at Tamarama Beach – refreshing, exhilarating, and oddly salty. It is truly one of life’s simplest pleasures.
To my fellow gossip connoisseurs, I’m here to defend our beloved art form as more than just frivolity; it has improved humans in profound ways, from its roots in evolutionary psychology to its significance in shaping history. Our primal ancestors needed to have goss sessions around the fire to protect themselves. “Big day. Janice got nibbled by a sabre-toothed tiger, and Kerry was thrown into the pit for grunting Dua Lipa too loud”. Done right, having a goss is how humans survive.
This form of communication has allowed women to navigate complex power dynamics within their communities. It simultaneously brings truth to light and is a way for women to communicate and exert their power in a patriarchal society.
When I first decided to take up the joy of gossiping, I was curious as to how the negative stigma began. There’s a stark contrast in how we view women’s gossiping compared to men’s, which is both utterly absurd and delightfully hypocritical. When women talk, it’s “gossiping”, but when our male peers say the same thing, it’s “the news” and “history”. I discovered it had historical echoes from the mid-century.
During WWII, information leaks could have catastrophic consequences. Snitches did indeed get stitches. However, even after the war was won, this cultural touchstone continued to be exploited by the patriarchy, trying to prevent women from chatting among themselves. They were like, “Ladies, you did such a good job of locking those lips; why stop now?”
After all, women were now getting a wage (I use the word lightly) as secretaries and telephone operators for the honour of listening in on men’s very important, very vital, very impressive conversations about things like golf, mistresses, and tax avoidance. But with this great power bestowed on us gals came an even greater pressure from those above to STFU.
This passage from a horrifyingly real 1961 secretarial training manual gives you a clearer idea: “It’s too bad the pastime of gossiping is misused by office girls. But it is. And when the evil intent is there, it should be recognised and dealt with for what it is. Evil. A person who tolerates it is almost as guilty as the person who indulges in it. It takes at least two to play the game, and the listener is almost an equal party to the evil.”
Back in the day, women were handed a choice: either zip it or brace yourself for the fallout of pure devilishness. “Even Satan himself wouldn’t gossip about Damien’s new toupee in the way you office girls did during afternoon tea time on Thursday. Burn in hell! ”
As bizarre as that sounded nearly 70 years ago, even today, women who gossip are often labelled as catty, shallow, or untrustworthy, while men who engage in similar behaviour are patted on the back for being assertive or well-informed.
After beers, I told Hugh that while I knew he was innocently trying to prevent my loose lips from sinking ships, he unknowingly continued to peddle an outdated bias against women. Well, in reality, my monologue sounded more like, “Dude, what the heck, don’t hate the player!” Nevertheless, from the look on his face, I knew Hugh got the point.
It’s time to give gossip a rebrand. It isn’t evil; in fact, it suggests the opposite. The act of healthy gossiping reflects a woman’s philanthropy. It’s our feminine duty to gossip!
So, the next time you find yourself sharing a juicy tidbit with a mate who tries to silence you, remind them that the practice of gossip is an active takedown of the patriarchy, a community service, and a healthy alternative to social media. In the age of misinformation and digital disconnection, the art of gossiping may be just what we need to bring us closer together.
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