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I am trapped. I am a single woman who adheres to the independent
woman of the 21st century philosophy. I have not been married
before nor do I have children. I am struggling with a career
in magazine journalism, desperately trying to support myself
financially, with the exception of economical gifts donated
by mom and dad, which are gratefully accepted. My life doesn't
sound so bad now that it is actually in print, but there is
one thing missing, and a rather significant thing at that:
a man.
As a young girl I was told that I could be anything I wanted
to be. Fair enough. I was also told that I didn't need a man,
that I could be independent and be myself, a strong self. True.
Drilled into my head was the premise that I should date as many
men as I could to learn what qualities I like and dislike in
men. I would be jailed for even thinking of getting married
young.
I have blindly yet willingly walked into this trap. I didn't
foresee independence as a trap. A trap set by the feminists
of the sixties and seventies, of the generation that toted placards
decreeing "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle".
Thirty to forty years after Gloria Steinem spoke those words,
women like myself are feeling the pressure to be independent.
Our parents, society and our beloved girlfriends push us into
careers and self-sufficiency. We stand united in sovereign sisterhood
and simultaneously we long for a strong shoulder to lean on.
My generation of women has become what our mothers were not.
We are living the dream they sought after, fought for and eventually
won. Winning isn't everything though. As a product of this propaganda
I take pride in my laissez faire independence, but this pride
has led me to believe that I can live life quite happily without
a male companion. I feel betrayed by my former feminists because
that is simply not true.
The popular Bridget Jones' Diary phenomenon presents the situation
with liberal accuracy. We go to the office, we go home to our
own apartments, and we struggle over what underwear to
wear on a date as we hope to meet that one man, our knight
in shining armor driving a luxury sport utility vehicle, our
prince charming wearing an Armani suit with Kenneth Cole shoes.
It's just the usual day-to-day trials and tribulations of a
single woman approaching thirty.
What is a woman to do? It is a well-known fact that as one ages,
the diminishing dating pool becomes as dry as the desert. The
lack of eligible, heterosexual men leads women to focus on their
blossoming careers. Comparably, time dedicated to the office
can be more interesting than an average date with a guy who
thinks you have nice teeth. But then women emerge from the work
world in their late twenties or early thirties and realize that
these pursuits at a career aren't fulfilling—a dissatisfaction
that runs deep.
We chased the dream but now realize we were chasing the wrong
one. Women don't like to admit they want a man, let alone need
one; it would go against the teachings of the feminist bible.
Thanks to our feminist foremothers, women can embrace their
sexuality, have meaningless sex in a one-night stand and climb
the corporate ladder safe from sexual harassment. But just because
we have the freedom to bring a man back to our apartment
on a Saturday night doesn't mean we are satisfied with the state
of affairs. We want more.
Holding onto our independence with such ferocity, we fear that
once we let go it will be gone forever—women are torn between
wanting marriage and a family and the freedom to be who they
are.
Which begs the question: does a woman relinquish her independence
for the sake of marriage? Is getting married the ticket to refunding
your independence? Do brides simply exchange independence for
a ring, a white dress, and kitchen appliances?
I keep looking for the exit sign, for a secure way out, an escape
route to freedom from this trap so dutifully laid out by my
mother and her mother, and so many women before me. From one
direction women are being pushed to have a corporate career,
a personal luxury car and private holidays, but from the opposing
direction is the inner pull to find companionship, find the
love poets write about, and raise a family. Our mothers suggest
we can have both because they want us to have what they didn't:
identity outside the family.
Copyright © 2001 Juli Strader. All Rights
Reserved.
Juli Strader in a writer living in Toronto
who, apparently, has nice teeth.
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