My boyfriend in college accused me of being a feminist. I have no desire to get into the politics of women’s issues. I simply don’t care. Because the truth is: We all have way more power than men.
However, we have way more compassion, being of the fairer sex, and that really limits us. Even if you are not already a wife or mother, you still can’t do you. We naturally put other people first—to our own detriment.
Since before I even had my first boyfriend or thought about this or even read Virginia Woolf, I have wanted a room of my own. I always had a bedroom of my own growing up, but even then, I had to defend it.
My little brothers went in there freely and destroyed my custom-made dollhouse. They colored with crayons on the outside walls, ripped out the electricity (yes, my dollhouse had beautiful light fixtures in every room! with dimmers!), broke the porcelein bathroom furniture and tore out the tiles and rugs—probably in five minutes, because I guard my possessions like a hawk. But you can only do so much defending when you are in school for full days while the rugrats are at home with the nanny who left them alone for two seconds.
These ugggh boys take over your things! My American Girl dolls all suffered greatly, as did their accessories. They were rejected by the doll hospital. (Pleasant Company actually said, “You should buy new dolls; yours are beyond repair.”)
What’s mine is NOT yours. We women have a much harder job enforcing these rules because we are too busy accommodating everyone else, and then before you know it, we are in yet another decade of not being in control of as much as we should be in terms of the world at large. We are the masters of multitasking, we are pretty brilliant, and pretty pretty, but we get in our own way because we “care.” That is such BS. I go to bed every night hoping that I will be more heartless than I am today.