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Women Can be Just as Prone to Dickish Behavior—But There’s Hope

It’s always struck me as funny that our most essential and pleasurable body parts double as our culture’s favorite insults. We don’t call a useless person an appendix or a nudgy nag an elbow. No, we go straight for the genitals.

You know the terms. You’ve probably muttered one already today. But here’s the real question: Have you ever met a woman you’d describe as a dick? Does the female dick even exist?

Short answer: yes. A person need not have a dick to be one. Notice the word “especially” in this Cambridge Dictionary definition of dick: “A rude word for a person, especially a man, who is considered to be stupid or unpleasant.” Think of Jolene, the eponymous antagonist of the Dolly Parton plea, who’ll take your man just because she can. And Emma Bovary. A tragic heroine, sure, but author Gustave Flaubert would have to agree that she’s something of a dick.

The good news is, one isn’t destined to be a dick forever. Dickery can be curtailed, if not fully cured—for the benefit of all.

The Etymological Evolution of Dick 

“Dick is complicated,” Michael Adams, Ph.D., a  professor of English and linguistics at Indiana University and the author of Slang: The People’s Poetry, told me. The word has various meanings, including “average guy” (as in every Tom, Dick, and Harry), as well as a “private investigator” (as fans of Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled fiction know).

As to the male sex appendage, “Prick was in use for penis as far back as the mid-1500s, and we didn’t get dick till the mid-1800s,” Adams said. Here’s why: Puritanical Western culture taught us to be ashamed of our genitalia. So what did we do? We made up slang for what was taboo to say. And it’s the shame factor that makes those terms excellent insults. You could call the driver who cut you off a jerk, but comparing someone to a naughty bit? Much more disparaging.

Plus, there’s a certain physical satisfaction simply in how prick and dick are pronounced. “It sounds harsh and forceful,” Adams said. “So when you’re exasperated with someone, using those words can just feel right.”

The Dick Doesn’t Discriminate

Mark B. Borg, Jr., Ph.D., author of Don’t Be a Dick, defines dickery as misdirected anger and negativity. “We tell ourselves that the things that piss us off are somebody else’s fault, so we act like a dick,” he said. “But that pisses somebody else off in turn, making us the catalyst when she, he, or they are venting.”

And, yes, note the pronouns: Being a dick is an equal opportunity affliction. “There might be exceptions in some cultures, but for the most part, dickery is universal,” Borg said. “Anyone—regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation, or status—can be a dick.”

For the female dick, however, a power play may be involved. “Women have long dealt with a buildup of oppression, so when a woman is a dick, it may be an attempt to equalize an unfair dynamic,” Borg said. “Unconsciously, women may be trying to balance things out.”

I experienced this firsthand at work. The second-in-command at a glossy women’s magazine, relatively intelligent and pretty in an uninteresting way (think: The Devil Wears Banana Republic), she’d single us out for humiliation in meetings, write cruel comments on our copy, and keep us late with random last-minute changes. All the while she’d show her delight in our pain with a thin-lipped smile a la The Simpsons’ Mr. Burns. I dreaded going to work until, dear reader, she fired me.

Hallelujah.

The Dick in Me

Dickish bosses aside, my interest in exploring this subject actually lies in the shocking discovery that I—a basically decent woman trying to live by the “love all, fear none” ethos—can nonetheless be a bit of a dick.

My manifestation? I snicker. I grumble. I sigh, loudly. Usually behind someone’s back. Like in line at the supermarket, when the cashier has an issue. Or when, walking in my neighborhood, someone fails to return my friendly greeting. These situations annoy me, motivating me to grouse. Dick move! The small degree of steam I blow off doesn’t make me feel better; in fact, it fuels my anger. It sure isn’t worth adding to a sucky downward spiral of bad mojo. So I would like to stop.

A noble gesture, for sure, but … how?

Steps to Stop the Dickish Spiral

Step one, stop taking stuff personally. “We act like a dick as a reaction to what we see as other people being dicks,” Borg said. “But rather than assume someone’s being rude to you, decide that they’re simply clueless or having a crappy day that has nothing to do with you.”

And if dickery does begin to rear its ugly head, short-circuit it by hitting pause. Take a breath. Smile. Count to 10, or even three. Employ the fogging technique. Whatever it takes to reset. I personally hit pause by engaging in a memory game when I feel myself “going there.” Simultaneously abort appalling behavior and fight cognitive decline—what a win-win!

Then, at the end of the day, take a personal inventory to appreciate the times you were not a dick. Acknowledge that. Reward yourself. This helps reinforce non-dick behavior until it becomes natural. Yet by the same token, self-acceptance is key. “When we’re all right with who we are, we’re not projecting all the bad things we feel about ourselves onto other people,” Borg explained. “The result would be a lot less dicks in the world.”

So, yeah, sometimes I still sigh, even snicker. But now I try to catch myself. And if I say “hi” and you don’t at least nod back? I’ll try not to be a dick about it.

Try….