​It started out as a nonsensical dream. 
Rather innocently, in fact, almost whimsically ridiculous. 

I was out and about in a rather nondescript, could-be-practically-anywhere-really, small, iconic looking all-American town with a man, who claimed to be my father. We were going on a father/daughter outing to have a special meal. 

A silly fun meal. 
An all-American iconic meal. 
A hot dog.

A part of me registered that this man leading me by the hand, was in fact NOT my father. But he said he was, and so his authority was set in stone despite the evidence of my memory intruding. 

Plus he took me by the hand, and smiled so charmingly. Surely his role was trustworthy. 

​I’m about to let you in on a little secret I’ve been keeping:

Every time a woman does a post of themselves cooking and puts a caption “wife me up” with a cute heart eyes emoji and a simpering smile, I want to vomit in my mouth a little.

The struggle not to, is real. 

Because I wonder to myself, is this truly ALL women aspire to in 2024? 

We can be scientists, athletes, politicians, creators, artists, photographers, agricultural goddesses, writers, entrepreneurs, inventors, poets, professors, researchers, lawyers, surgeons, conservationists, sustainability leaders, jewelers, architects, philosophers, painters, engineers, deep sea divers, pilots…seriously our possibilities are limitless. 

​Public: open to or shared by all the people of an area or country. (Oxford English Dictionary)

We seem to be having a severe language issue in the United States. To quote from one of the greatest movies of all time, when I hear the word “public” used in connection with the word “access”, I often find myself thinking:

I do not think that word means what you think it means” – (Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride)

You see, when I think of the word “public”, images of libraries and city parks comes to mind. Museums like the Smithsonians in DC. Picnics at national lakes. Education being available through schools in the community.

All of these are PLACES that as a citizen of the United States of America I get (mostly) free and (fairly) unrestricted access to. Nowhere in this imagery do I see…

My BODY.

Yet somehow somehow society at large has accepted the false assumption that the nameless faceless “THEY” have the RIGHT to access my BODY. Others are making decisions that attempt to disempower my autonomy over my physical self.

I am many things. 
But there are many things, I am not.

I am NOT your ride AND die. 
I am NOT the woman BEHIND the man.
And I am most certainly NOT proving my loyalty by staying home, when I could be out living my life.

Perhaps we can blame this current set of mentalities, like so many other things in modern times, also on the pandemic. Because while such nonsense did in fact exist before, it seems to have taken on epic proportions lately.

​Like this ridiculous notion that I, as a woman, am supposed to prove myself, to a man. Or that I am to stand unflinchingly BEHIND him as his “Queen”, while he goes out and creates a life for “us”.

There are multiple flaws to these being essential qualities for a “good woman”. 

​I woke excited that day. It was one of the rare moments that I was allowed to be at a community pool “alone” with friends. I felt grownup - after all, I was a preteen, a double digit member of the community. At 11, I was having the coolest hangout ever - an “unsupervised” girls’ day.

Now there were plenty of adults nearby, lounging on crappy plastic chairs. My friend’s mom, who drove us, was herself sitting under the shade with a few parents. All sipping from plastic bottles and keeping an eye on the kids in the wading pool. Admonished to put on our tanning lotion, and keep out of trouble, we “big kids” were set free to chill in the deeper waters.