In a world where I am told that in order to be happy, I must get married, have children, and be a "little mother-, I find agonizingly over and over again that I do not fit. These are not my dreams. These are the dreams of an unevolved patriarchal society that sees women as a mere decoration. To have their own thoughts and dreams, that must be some kind of psychosomatic, psychological disorder. Not only do I hear this from numerous superiors (or those with their own sense of superiority, at least over me), such as relatives, friends, and teachers, but I also hear this from my peers. Do my peers really see themselves as happy? Will they still be content when in ten years time they are divorced and in a custody battle for children that neither they nor their spouse want? I can't wait for my ten year reunion .
There is this constant bombardment that I cannot possibly be truly happy until I have "caught myself a man."" This sickens me. I hear these reproofs and want to scream, "Where is the justice?!- Not once have a heard someone say, "Now that young man [X], he seems like a nice boy, but he needs a good woman to take care of him, to domesticate him."" I do not feel the need to be domesticated, to be conquered by a species that I have almost come to loathe. But then I remind myself, it is not the species itself. It is the culture that has raised and nursed it. By its tit, we know no other way. How can you turn your back on your own mother? The one who bore you, endured pain for you, bled for you, cried with you, and then after all that, wiped your tears for you? It is now our turn to weep for our mother. At a time when she should set us free with the fleeting yearning of our times together, she instead bars us in with the promise that it is for our own good. The truth is: it isn't.
Yes, it is true that culture was once our mother. But the moment that she turned her back and refused to acknowledge us as the diverse begins we are is the moment she gave up all privileges as our matriarch.