In my earplugs while I write this issue:
A few months ago I saw on Instagram a video of a woman who is the first in her family to live alone. She says that, in her lineage, she is the first to pay her bills without depending on her parents or a husband; in mine, I am that woman. My life has always been so intense, full of novelties and projects, that I had never realized that. I took my freedom for granted.
I am the first woman to create businesses, open and close companies, rent a car while traveling to another state, negotiate and rent apartments, buy furniture, have casual dates, sleep at the boyfriend's house, change boyfriends, enroll in courses, travel to another continent on a sabbatical year, and to create a career that fosters the desired lifestyle. I am the first woman who can choose, without having to ask for permission or anyone else's money— a pride.
A man will never know the feeling my female ancestors felt. A man won’t be afraid to see his recently won rights threatened.
It’s on the most ordinary day, when I am sitting on my balcony observing the landscape, that I feel most alive. I am where I want to be, doing what I want to do - a privilege.
How did my mother, grandmother, and all the women who came before them live? Did they miss owning their own lives, or can one not miss what they never knew?
I almost feel obliged to do something grand with my life, even knowing that choosing is already grand enough.