It made sense that women got married in the past when being a wife/mother was one of the only jobs open to women. We were told we were the weak ones even as we embodied unparalleled strength and endurance, what else could carry us through such incessant oppression?
We were told we were dependent, however who was really dependent on who?
In our modern day of education and careers, after realizing that the fairy tale of marriage is a lie, after taking stock of the bill of goods we’ve been sold, what makes women stay?
I find that question harder and harder to answer regarding my own marriage each day.
Constantly working in service to my family, there is no time left in the day to take care of my own needs, including the bare necessities like sleep.
I fantasize of uniting my tribe of women. We will steal away to an island, pound the sand with our feet, dance naked around the fire and howl at the moon. We will not care what we look like, we will not cook or clean, we will feast on fresh kill by tearing meat off the bone with our sharpened teeth. There will be no dishes or laundry. Wearing only warpaint, we’ll feel at peace at last. We’ll let out the energy we’ve kept bottled away from our husbands, the unspoken rage at the injustice towards us incurred by daily domestic life. The primordial screams will be felt to the depths of the ocean.
I know this is a pipe dream. We would never leave our obligations to our children or husbands, right? We’ll stay in our fishbowls, trying to justify why we stunt our own growth. Still, I long to smash the glass.
Sage Burner Poetry 