The Blame Game: Why Do We Always Point at the Woman?

I haven’t blogged in a while — life has been busy, full, and demanding. But today something has been sitting on my heart, and I felt called to write about it. I want to talk about something uncomfortable. Something that society still handles unfairly. Why is it that when a man decides to have an affair, we so often blame the woman — and forget that the man made a choice too? Now, let me be clear. I do not agree with interfering in a marriage. I believe in loyalty. I believe in commitment. I believe families are sacred. But I also believe in truth — and the truth is that affairs don’t happen because of one person alone. It takes two to tango. Years ago, when I was about 20, I worked with a woman who had a reputation. People whispered about her. My sisters warned me about her. Others said, “Don’t talk to her — she broke up a family.” But I’ve never been one to follow gossip. I make my own decisions about people. I believe in seeing things for myself rather than inheriting someone else’s judgment. One day at work, we were paired together on a project. We started talking casually, and I asked her how she met her husband — pretending I didn’t know the story everyone had attached to her name. She looked at me and calmly said, “He’s not my husband. He’s just the father of my child.” I remember being confused. So I gently asked what she meant. She told me that when she met him, he said he was single. He told her he came from a shelter background. He painted himself as a man who had struggled and was trying to rebuild his life. She believed him. Why wouldn’t she? She was young. She trusted what he told her. She didn’t find out the truth until she was seven months pregnant. She said they were driving one day when a child ran up to the car and called him “Dad.” That was the moment her world shifted. That was the moment she realized he had children. A wife. A whole other life. By then, she was almost eight months pregnant. It was too late emotionally, physically, and socially. Her parents were furious. Instead of supporting her, they threw her out of the house. She had nowhere to go. And yet, in everyone else’s story, she was the villain. She was labeled. She was judged. She was called names. She carried the scarlet letter of “homewrecker.” But as I worked beside her day after day, I saw something different. I saw a woman who tried to leave him many times. I saw her come to work crying. I saw bruises she tried to hide. She told me he beat her. He manipulated her. He used their child as leverage to control her. Meanwhile, he continued being the charming “ladies’ man” to the outside world. Yet somehow, society chose to stamp her as the problem. He moved on freely. She carried the shame. That never sat right with me. It made me realize how quick we are to judge without knowing both sides of the story. How easy it is to assign blame when the full truth is uncomfortable. We don’t always know who was lied to. We don’t always know who was manipulated. We don’t always know who was abused. And yet we speak as if we were witnesses. I also had another friend who once told me that her friend’s husband made a pass at her. She immediately shut it down. She drew a clear boundary. She said no. But she never told her friend. When I asked why, she said, “Because somehow, I would be blamed. She would think I did something to encourage it.” Think about that. Even when a woman does the right thing, she fears she will be accused. And that tells us something about how deeply rooted this imbalance is. Now again — I am not defending affairs. I am not saying women have no responsibility in certain situations. I am saying accountability belongs to both people involved. A man who cheats is not a victim of temptation. He is a decision-maker. And sometimes, the woman is not a seductress — she is misled, lied to, manipulated, or emotionally vulnerable. What stays with me most about that coworker is not the gossip. It’s the quiet strength she carried while being judged by everyone around her. She was raising her child mostly on her own. She was surviving abuse. She was trying to rebuild her life. Yet she was the one society pointed at. I learned something important from that experience when I was just 20 years old: Never judge a story you haven’t lived. Never condemn a person based on whispers. And never forget that there are always two sides — sometimes three — to every situation. I give so much credit to women who respect themselves and set boundaries in toxic situations. It takes strength to walk away. It takes courage to say no. It takes self-worth to refuse to be someone’s secret. But I also give compassion to women who were deceived. Life is not always black and white. Sometimes it’s layers of hurt, lies, fear, and survival. Before we blame, maybe we should listen. Before we label, maybe we should understand. Before we judge, maybe we should pause. Because sometimes the woman carrying the blame is also carrying wounds no one sees.