It's not a feminist manifesto
I simply enjoy my morning coffee and skiing pow
Do you read this newsletter every week? Do you forward it or text it to your friends? Do you value the work that goes into it? If you answered yes to any of these questions, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Because I don’t know who needs to hear this, but the federal government does not pay me to be a single woman.
Proof that choosing to be single and not have children has its perks. Wanna join me?
I get the sense that people* believe many of my decisions are rooted in the center of a Venn diagram of feminist theory, Marxism, critical race theory, and ecological economics. And while there is a part of me that pretends to be that thoughtful and intellectual, the truth is that I’m not interested in playing along with this game called adulting.
Choosing to be child-free? Has less to do with the refusal to uphold gender roles and more to do with my love affair with morning coffee. I want to drink my coffee at any damn time I choose. I want the freedom to create a cup of joy every morning by dedicating my patience to a pour-over, not a runny nose. I want to drink it in silence*. I want to drink it from bed. From my couch. In my underwear. On the veranda in my guest house on the island of Lamu or from a plastic mug just before I embark on another day of cycling across Kenya at in an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet in Niseko, Japan. While at my desk, starting my day early because I want to carve out time to ride bikes or ski pow.
There’s a reason why I don’t take meetings in the mornings. It’s to ski pow. And I can do that just about any day I want because I can move my “things that must get done” later into the evening. No school pick-ups. No practice. No dinner to be cooked for anyone but myself*. Powder days might be my favorite thing in the world, and I have spent my entire life figuring out how to say yes to the incredible delight and freedom that only comes with six inches of fresh snow.
You know what else I want to do? Party on a Wednesday night. Or Tuesday, same same. The point is, if I want to catch up with friends over a box of wine and a spliff I want to do that any damn day. That slight hangover I know I’m going to have? Not. A. Problem. Because I don’t have to parent anyone but myself. That slight headache and those undereye circles that won’t quit invite young people to fuck with you harder than they already do. No thank you, I’m going to slightly suffer in silence until I can put myself to bed at WHATEVER TIME I WANT TO and then start the next day fresh.
Another thing that would get in the way of me drinking my coffee on my terms, skiing pow every day, traveling the world, and partying like it’s 1999 in 20-what-year-is-it is… men. Not like the men who leave my house by 10 pm* so that I can hog my own bed, but men who want to get married and do this thing called monogamy. I get it friends. Many of you are looking for that. Perhaps you’ve found it. That’s fine, and I actually can say with a straight face that I am happy for those of you who are happy in those types of relationships. I have spent 46 years on this planet and know that I wouldn’t be.
It might be because of the cookies. Men want a cookie for picking up after themselves and women are legit running the goddamn world and excuse me if I don’t want to participate in that noise. We’ve got a man vying to be the next President of the United States who is being praised as a remarkable father and husband because he picked his kids up from school when his wife had cancer. Do you see the look on my face now?
I know Jen, enough with the heteronormative rhetoric. But women are tough because y’all want to move in and monogamy up too, which also impacts my coffee-drinking-pow-skiing-doing-whatever-the-fuck-I-want-to vibes. Don’t believe me? Go look in a lesbian’s junk drawer and tell me how many U-Hual keys they have floating around. Now, am I still taking applications for a girlfriend? Yes. I am*.
If there was a feminist manifesto, it might go something like this. I haven’t bought into the myth that women can have it all. I believe being a parent and a partner is quite possibly the most difficult thing any woman will ever do in her entire life. Women make sacrifices that men don’t. Sometimes they have ownership over these choices, and other times they don’t. They may experience debilitating regret and frustration and anger. Or they know that they’re doing exactly what they’re meant to do. And that’s what I have in common with all of my authentically happily married and partnered parent friends: We’re doing what we want to do and what makes us feel good.
But there is a difference. I’m told by society that I shouldn’t show up this way. I’m the selfish one. I’m the one who’s missing out on real love, real happiness, real fulfillment in life. I’m the problem with society*. I’m the one who’s refusing to grow up and act like an adult.
You know what the real problem is? Outdated societal norms that not only make women feel small if they don’t do what they are “supposed” to do, but actually limit their full participation in society. The fundamental premise of marriage and motherhood is ownership and free labor. I don’t want to participate in the drudgeries of capitalism and I’ve figured out how not to. We have an opportunity to rewrite that narrative but only if we open it up to everyone, to all of the ways that people choose to partner and parent or choose not to.
Feminist rant over. It's time to spend the rest of my Sunday afternoon doing the things that only single, childfree women can: making Dutch Babies, on-line obsessing about rice bran facial cleansers after you found that little sample packet from that two-week-long ski trip to Japan, and masturbating. Maybe in that order or maybe not, doesn’t matter, no one is getting in my way.
* Not you, because you’re perfect and would never judge me. I’m talking about everyone else who annoys us.
* Unless I have invited you over, and then of course we can talk because there’s news and hot goss to discuss. You know who you are.
* Thank you, I got what I needed. We are good. See you next week.
* Do me a solid and forward this to a friend or respond to the email because dating is V hard and if any of you are single and in your 40s you know this as FACT.
* I WANT MY MONEY, WHERE IS MY FUCKING CHECK?!?