Two Hundred Dollars a Month

What keeps women captive?

Conditioning begins in childhood. What has patriarchy cost us? Let me count the ways.

Born into a 3-channel tv world, raised on cartoons, Captain Kangaroo and Leave It to Beaver sitcoms with a moral message.

Men first. It was always men first. My home was more Archie Bunker than Ward Cleaver. IYKYK.

There were 3 acceptable professions I dared to dream about as a child. I could be a teacher, a nurse, or a stewardess. Only one problem with that.

I wanted to be a man. I wanted to stand up to pee and not have to cook and clean. I wanted to be respected and loved. I wanted to have my own money and a say in my own life choices.

Yes I wanted it all. The Virginia Slims commercials of the 70's captured my imagination. The padded shoulder 3 piece suits took me into corporate life in the 80's. I raised teenagers in the 2000's with more freedoms and choices than I had.

By the time I graduated high school, the narrative had shifted and the battle lines of my life clearly drawn. From a father who denied me college (all you're going to do is get pregnant) or a car (only boys need to drive) or even riding a bike (hymen, you know) to a cultural narrative of free love, career excellence, and self determination competing with the old stories of a woman being worth less than a man.

My mother at 42 learned to drive from her teenage son every day after school with me in the backseat. She snuck to take the test and passed it. She announced it to dad one Saturday when he wouldn't take her shopping. And the battle raged on.

What had patriarchy cost me?

Exhaustion from serving to meet both impossible standards at once. Work, parent, educate, clean, shop, entertain, breast feed, stay lithe and sexually available on demand. So much to do, energy on fumes, expectations and conflict at an all time high. Virginia Slims commercials embody it all. Impossible.

During my working years, I couldn't find the luxury to do anything but keep the treadmill running. Daily drudgery, monthly cycles, annual health checks. Rinse and repeat. Then I found a way out of it all by walking away before it killed me. It's the stuff gray divorce is made of.

Patriarchal conditioning had me believing, even with my educated six figure income, that I was nothing without a man. That I had to do more with less and be happy for what I had, even if it was lacking.

The day I woke up was the day I understood that I could never retire in peace in that marriage. Either he would keep spending so debt free retirement was impossible or I would settle and submit to my dying breath.

Neither was a palatable option. So I stepped away. All the way out and into the great unknown of life after divorce. Starting over at sixty-something.

Meager early retirement was better than decades of broken spirit and empty promises. So I chose life. My life. The dreams that couldn't be contained in the mundane, but took flight when I burned the last bridge behind me.

I retired early and took less than full social security. Because $200 a month wasn't worth staying in captivity an extra 4 years. I've picked up side hustles along the way to cover what Medicare doesn't.

What does freedom look like today? Stepping off the treadmill and still being able to eat.

What do you imagine freedom might feel like for you?