The following is an excerpt from an article that is being published in this month's Atlantic. I subscribe to The Atlantic because they have some of the best long format articles on politics out there as far as I am concerned. I'm a political junkie, so this works for me. I had noticed though over the years of reading it, that they seem to have an "issue" with women. This is most obviously represented by their hiring of Caitlin Flanagan who is easily one of the most desperately confused humans I have ever seen in print.
Now they print this chick. Nothing makes my heart warmer than seeing a woman in print decide that because they really feel something, it must in fact be true. If I'm not worried, I'm in denial? Seriously? Can you really not imagine a life narrative where a person, female or male, would be happy and satisfied with the non standard narrative? This does not make me a liar, it makes you an unimaginative moron.
I know women in this age bracket who don't want to be alone. They want to get married and are very aware that marriage is a contract with imperfections and significant, confusing compromises. They are not waiting for their soul mate, they are hoping to meet someone they like enough to settle for.
It hasn't anything to do with feminism. Modern life demands more energy out us than we often have to give. We are still learning how to prioritize what we spend our energy on, but anyone who is complaining about that being their issue is ignorant. Feminism has never been about women or men having to be alone. Humans are social animals and seek companionship in almost all situations. What does wanting a partner/companion/spouse have to do with feminism? Seriously, who the fuck told you that to be a feminist meant having unrealistic ideas about marriage and what it takes to make a life partnership work? That makes you an idiot, not feminism a faulty premise. OK, done now.
"To the outside world, of course, we still call ourselves feminists and insist — vehemently, even — that we’re independent and self-sufficient and don’t believe in any of that damsel-in-distress stuff, but in reality, we aren’t fish who can do without a bicycle, we’re women who want a traditional family. And despite growing up in an era when the centuries-old mantra to get married young was finally (and, it seemed, refreshingly) replaced by encouragement to postpone that milestone in pursuit of high ideals (education! career! but also true love!), every woman I know — no matter how successful and ambitious, how financially and emotionally secure — feels panic, occasionally coupled with desperation, if she hits 30 and finds herself unmarried.
Oh, I know — I’m guessing there are single 30-year-old women reading this right now who will be writing letters to say that the women I know aren’t widely representative, that I’ve been co-opted by the cult of the feminist backlash, and basically, that I have no idea what I’m talking about. And all I can say is, if you say you’re not worried, either you’re in denial or you’re lying. In fact, take a good look in the mirror and try to convince yourself that you’re"