Underwhelmed and Highly Amused: daily musings of a 20-something with an opinionated social commentary
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Tuesday, October 19, 2010
WHY I DON'T WANT TO RELY ON A MAN TO SUPPORT ME.
I’ve got a problem. I’ve become a feminist. I’ve never been a feminist before and, quite honestly, I’m not really sure what to make of it or how to deal with it. Before you go off thinking that I’m about to be burning my bra and protesting the male race, hear me out.
It recently occurred to me that I value my education, acquired skills and the mere fact that I have a job and an income. At this point in life there are very few things that are worth more to me than being able to support myself financially, pay my own bills and, as a result, not have to answer to anyone or anything besides myself. Maybe that’s being selfish, not feminist, but I personally still think it’s a little bit more feministy than I’ve ever been in the past.
I have to take a step back and wonder why this whole overarching “job” and “career” and “financial stability” concept is so important to me right now. Why this second? Why do I care?
First off, I realize that at some points during my educational career I worked hard for my grades. Sure, in college I slacked off plenty, but just being in college (physically) was work on its own-- both emotionally and academically. But moreso emotionally. (Hey, it’s tough to learn how to share a living space with conniving girls or to deal with that best friend whose idea of a good time is to get wasted and then destroy property!) Second, I realize that I’m goddamned lucky to have a job during these years that are so difficult financially for most Americans.
After considering these two things, I then think about so many girls my age whose only wish (whether or not they have yet fulfilled it) is to get married and have babies. Now, I’m not about to argue that either of those are bad things in themselves, but I will defend my opinion to the death that there is a proper time and place for these things to happen in our lives. Just as much as it wouldn’t have been appropriate to pop out a few kids in high school, it wouldn’t be the ideal time in my life now, either. I’m 23 and baby, I’ve got this decade to live without the hassel of raising my own family. I need to raise MYSELF before I can be responsible for anyone else. I just envision myself encouraging a child to make their bed or maintain a healthy diet when I don’t yet do it myself. Those alone provide an instant reminder that I’m not ready.
I also have decided that if I were, in theory, to just quit my job to get married and have kids, it would demonstrate a complete lack of ambition. Don’t get me wrong, I understand how challenging it is to raise a kid and maintain a household even without a job. As Oprah says, being a mom is the hardest job in the world. But if I were to marry someone in order to have kids right now for any other purpose other than for love, it would not only be not only unfair to the guy, but really unfair to myself. Why shouldn’t I be in a position to strive to improve upon or advance in my career? Do I really want to have to trust one person’s dealings at work to ensure my own monetary stability? Why should he have to do all of the work outside the house to support me when I have a perfectly worthy college degree?
All in all, it comes down to one thing: I don’t want to be lazy. I’d like to think that I have more personality, education and intelligence than to just give up my outside world to rely on some husband’s paychecks so I can clean toilets and do laundry all day. There is absolutely no reason for me to resign myself to a life at home watching soaps while the baby sleeps. It’s early enough in time that I can still prove myself as my own person out there in the working world while saving time in the future to both have a family and a career.
Besides, the workplace is often the best place for me to get story ideas. And we all know I wouldn’t get to maintain this blog, one of my favorite things to write, if I didn’t have interesting stories. I’d rather be writing from my Cloroxed cubicle than from a rocking chair as a baby spits up on me, thank you very much.
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