I recall back in my days as an engineering student, sitting in the lab chatting with a young female classmate from India. She was telling me about the men her parents were considering having her marry. I was aghast.
“Your parents are choosing your husband?”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s how we’ve always done it.”
“But don’t you want some say in it? Doesn’t that seem horribly unfair?”
She laughed. “I watch you American girls and your dating. You are always so unhappy. It sounds terrible. I don’t want that.”
I’m almost envious of the days when women had no options, no careers and arranged marriages. I see the insanity in that, but I don’t feel it. I’m tired of options. I’m exhausted from heartbreak and doubt and risk-taking and failure and maybes. I just want to see the path I’m on, get a copy of the maze with the solution on the back.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Problems of privilege
As the years pass, I empathize more and more with what Sasha expressed in a recent post. The following passage feels especially relevant: