Making fun of girls who dream of being a wife and stay-at-home-mom actually doesn’t make you progressive or feminist or cool, it just makes you a person who shits on someone else’s dream, a.k.a an asshole
Whenever someone says that I say “Okay, whatever floats your boat, I guess” and then I think “Why would she want that? Isn’t it boring to just sit around all day and do nothing?”
Moms don’t “sit around all day and do nothing” - they have a incredibly important 24/7 job: raising little human beings. Don’t devalue that by calling it “nothing”.
Man, my mom cooked, cleaned, paid the bills, went grocery shopping, did my hair every morning before school and every night (which, as a white woman with no prior experience of doing black hair, especially on a tender-headed child, is no easy feat). She helped with my homework, consoled me after a bad day, frequently volunteered at the school. She even picked my anxious, crying ass up from kindergarten early nearly every day for the first semester and would lie down with me every night when I was a child until I fell asleep (and that usually took several hours). That’s not even scratching the surface of all the things she’s done for me and my siblings. She was always the first person up and the last person to go to bed. Nothing about what she did, and continues to do to a lesser degree, is easy.
Domestic work is constantly undervalued even though every family depends on it. My grandmother on my mom’s side would go hungry just so her kids could eat - that is not nothing.
Also, if you would commend a man for being a stay at home dad and doing exactly what women have been doing for centuries, don’t pretend you care about women’s labor.
Ya ever feel like the ideal body type for women was inherently just classism and the perfect way to treat women like trophies because like back when women were Thick™ as an ideal body type the only women who were able to look like that were the rich and today now the type is super thin and the only women who can look like that are the women who don’t work labour jobs and can afford not to have a carb diet so basically men only go for rich women and have changed how they objectify women not because of some biological quirk that shifts their lust but entirely because the form of the most privileged women has changed therefore the best trophy to keep
It literally was. Fat was hype when malnutrition and starvation were common. A symbol of leisure.
Gucci Skinny was hype when malnutrition from cheap food was common and when most of the middle class had desk jobs. Symbol of control over women who now had more rights.
Instagram Fit ™ is hype because most people are overworked and too broke to exercise or eat properly. A symbol of “leisure” and wealth.
me, circa early 1800s, paying a stable boy a few coppers to ride overnight to deliver you an urgent letter with a thick wax seal that after you struggle to break it just says “bitch!” in tiny little writing
no no no, you don’t understand the true level of spiteful here. The sender of a letter didn’t pay for the post in 1800. The receiver did. You just made your enemy pay for the privilege of being insulted.
I’m starting to see why messengers were gettin’ shot
“I’ll tell you what is harder than dying in Gaza by an Israeli missile deluxe. What is harder is that you get a phone call from the Israeli army telling you toevacuate your home because it will be bombed in ten minutes. Imagine; ten minutes; and your whole short history on the surface of Earth will be erased.
Gifts you received, photos of your siblings and your children (dead or alive), things that you love, your favorite chair, your books, that last poetry collection your read, a letter from your expatriate sister, reminders of the ones you loved, the smell of your bed, the jasmine tree that hangs off your western window, your daughter’s hair clip, your old clothes, your prayer rug, your wife’s gold, your savings; imagine; all this passes in front of your eyes in ten minutes, all that pain passes while you are struck by surprise.
Then you take your identification papers (passport, birth certificate, etc.) which you have ready in an old metallic candy box, and you leave your home to die a thousand times, or refuse to leave and die once.”
Either propose to me in a fog-covered field at dawn after your most disagreeable aunt has barged into my family’s estate in the middle of the night to very loudly express her poor opinion of me, and to put to rest the wild rumors of our engagement or dont even bother
