For those of you lucky enough not to be in the know, the radical feminists were those bra-burning enthusiasts of the 1960s/70s who 'liberated' women from the role of house-wife and home-maker. I say, blast them. I could be living it up at the moment, married to some fool of a guy who charges out of the house at the crack of dawn and doesn't return until late in the evening, working his socks off so that I and our inevitable sprog have somewhere to inhabit. What were those feminists thinking - we women had it sorted. Okay, so every now and then there was the odd plate to wash, but we now have the wonderful invention of the dishwasher. And the huge bonus feature is that you don't even have to see the guy most of the time - he's too busy out and feeling important and 'manly' earning a decent wage. The joy of the fling with the milkman is lost forever as single women frankly don't have time for such delightful indecencies. They are too busy balancing work and social life and child care and household chores.
Whereas loads of women were suddenly up in arms, declaring that we wanted the same rights, I say they were the fools. 'Patriarchal society' indeed. Women had it MADE, and the guys didn't even seem to question it. We could sit around all day reading and 'bettering ourselves' by learning to play the piano, perhaps doing a spot of needlework, taking a gentle stroll about the garden and upon returning to our easy chair by the hearth arrange the flowers we found there. Constructing a cake - although not exactly my forte - is hardly classifiable as a tough day's work.
No, now I'm expected to work. To have a career. To be terrifyingly independent to the point where I either terrify all guys who daren't speak to me lest they anger me, or to the point where I refuse to speak to them for fear of giving up some of my hard-earned independence that I should really appreciate because so many women fought for it.
Damn them.
Damn 'liberation'.
I am CLEARLY designed for a life of idleness, perhaps pushing a pen about a page once in a while at a pretence of earning some money. Looking after kids? Fine by me - since my future sprog will not be attending school and I do actually want to see my children occasionally. Ghastly places, schools, full of other peoples' ghastly children. Not having my kids bullied and teased and 'stressed out, man' for the sake of their experiencing the 'real world'. They'll have to live in it some day - stave it off as long as possible. Everyone so intent on achieving and 'fitting in' (thanks, UK government, for the latest idea on guidelines for three month olds and what they should be able to do) they forget that hang on, we've only got one life, might as well at least have an attempt at enjoying some of it.
Yeah - its a grand, idealised theory I know. Will go back to university work with a view to joining the rat race before much longer...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment