There are days when it is difficult to see my illness as any sort of gift. When I am struggling the get out of bed or thinking about the years of my life that I’ve lost to hospitals and the experiences that I will never get back as a young person, it is easy to feel like it was all pointless. Yet my education is something that my illness has never been able to take away from me and perhaps provided for in a very special sort of way. I’ve been blessed with countless hours with a book and the ability to write. I will choose to see the good in that rather than the loss. I do not believe that it is one.
Yet many of the opinions I hear about modern feminism still cling to this idea that in a word run by women would be gentler. We would be kinder and more loving; there wouldn’t be as much war. Everyone would be happy and the education system in the United States would become the best in the world overnight. But that’s simply not true (Our current Secretary of Housing is a woman that’s famously bad at her job). The only reason why that’s still a seemingly plausible trope is that we automatically attach this piece of the conversation to traditional gender roles.