Have you ever met one of those women who stated when asked what they wanted to do with their life that they wanted to get married and have some kids? You may know them as 'unambitious' teens or 'hopeful romantics' in their early 20s, or slightly more 'hopeless romantics' in their later 20s. Whatever their age talking to them can feel a bit like you're talking to a throwback. Somebody who missed the memo, 'the 50s are gone honey and they ain't coming back'.

They are the domestic goddesses of this world that no longer requires it. They love to cook, (I'm not sure anybody loves to clean), love to play with children, love to knit, sew and otherwise make crafts with their own two hands. They have mastered the art of being content with their lot in life... yeah maybe not I'm just making some intentional hyperbole at this point.

I am not one of those women. In fact in some ways I'm as far from that kind of women as you can get. I can't cook, can't remember the last time I did craft, have a scarf somewhere I got halfway through knitting before I lost interest. I study a male dominant degree in a hope of getting a job in a male dominant career.

I am the creation of the 21st century. I don't cook because I never learnt, the daughter of a single working (workaholic) mother who hates cooking, she never had the time or the inclination. I study engineering because these days girls go through high school and the high school dux is expected to take on one of the more complex degree based disciplines (medicine, law, engineering - take your pick). I don't do craft because why when there is a whole Internet of people who have done the hard yards probably better than I can with pretty pictures I can look and for the 5 minutes I'm interesting in craft without ever getting my hands dirty.

This blog is about the dilemma of trying to know myself as more than just the specifics of my generation. Which to a large extent isn't possible, I know, I am the summation of the parts. But humans like to think they are more than the sum of their parts, and so if what they all say is true there must be parts of me that stay the same throughout time.

So. If I was still me in the 1950s would I be an activist, or a housewife?

No comments:

Post a Comment