Rewriting Rules That Keep You From Running
Dare to rewrite the rules that keep your feet from running. — Simone de Beauvoir
A Challenge to Inherited Limits
Simone de Beauvoir’s line reads like a direct provocation: the obstacles that restrain you are not only walls in the world but also rules you have absorbed—quiet instructions about what is “appropriate,” “realistic,” or “for someone like you.” The phrasing “Dare to” matters, because it frames change as an act of courage rather than mere self-improvement. From the start, the quote implies that many constraints arrive disguised as common sense. Once a rule feels natural, it becomes harder to question, and your body follows suit—feet that could run instead learn to stand still.
Freedom as an Ongoing Project
Moving from provocation to philosophy, Beauvoir’s existentialism treats freedom as something you enact rather than possess. In The Second Sex (1949), she argues that women are historically positioned as “the Other,” trained to see their possibilities as narrower than men’s, which makes “rules” feel like destiny. In that light, rewriting rules is not a one-time rebellion but a continuous practice: noticing where you have been assigned a role, then choosing actions that expand what you can become. The goal isn’t reckless motion for its own sake, but a life directed by chosen values instead of inherited scripts.
The Social Machinery Behind “Rules”
The quote also points outward: rules are often social technologies, maintained through reward, punishment, and repetition. You may feel them in school tracking, workplace expectations, family narratives, or cultural ideals about gender, class, and race. Beauvoir’s insight is that these norms do not merely describe reality; they help produce it. Consequently, the “feet” image becomes political as well as personal. When a community’s standards dictate who should speak, lead, earn, desire, or create, people learn to manage their own movement—self-censoring long before anyone else has to intervene.
Psychological Foot-Brakes and Self-Policing
Even when external barriers loosen, internalized rules can remain. Modern psychology describes related patterns—like self-handicapping, fear of success, or learned helplessness (Martin Seligman’s early work in the 1970s is often cited)—where past constraints teach the mind to anticipate failure and avoid risk. This is why Beauvoir’s “rewrite” is so precise: you are not simply breaking rules, you are editing the story that justifies them. The work involves identifying the hidden premise (“If I try, I’ll be punished or humiliated”) and replacing it with a premise that is truer and more empowering.
How Rewriting Actually Happens
Then comes the practical question: what does rewriting look like in daily life? It often starts small—testing a boundary with a single action that contradicts the old script. A person who was taught not to “take up space” might volunteer for a visible task; someone told their art is frivolous might commit to a weekly practice and share it publicly. Over time, these experiments accumulate into evidence, and evidence weakens the old rule’s authority. The rule doesn’t vanish because you argued with it; it loosens because you lived a counterexample repeatedly, until running begins to feel not only possible but natural.
Courage With Consequences in Mind
Finally, Beauvoir’s call to dare does not ignore risk; it clarifies what is at stake. Rewriting rules can cost comfort, approval, or the safety of predictability, especially when others benefit from your stillness. Yet the alternative carries its own cost: a life shaped by constraints you never chose. So the quote closes the loop between ethics and motion. To run is to commit to your freedom in public, where choices have weight and responsibility. In Beauvoir’s spirit, the bravest rewrite is the one that turns possibility into action—step after step—until your life reflects authorship rather than permission.