What they see.
What I see.

At first I thought they were kidding. After all, I gladly consented on all accounts. Does being married to someone I actually like (perhaps too much) make me oppressed? According to my uber liberal friends the answer is absolutely yes…if I keep getting pregnant. And that was no joke.

I tried not to laugh too hard. After all, they were concerned. But I wish they’d channel their worry on truly oppressed females.
White American Feminists supposedly care for all females but fail to address black child brides in Niger or the black fourteen-year-old girl who was knocked up by 20-year-old Alton Sterling* before he was killed by cops in Baton Rouge, July 2016. But that’s another issue–What black men with prison records do is of no consequence. Because they are just as I am. No freedom, no choice.
"He’s oppressing you! Four kids is way too much!" they insisted.
When I assured them that I had a hand in my own feminist demise they dismissed it as a kind of Stockholm Syndrome. I am a brainwashed conservative well-churched female who has been socialized to submit to my Roman Catholic husband. The fact that he’s former military and doesn’t kiss up to them only exasperates the problem.
And he’s pasty white. I think they’d be more gracious if he had a little fun in his gene pool. Worse yet, he’s smarter than they are and that really offends them. Although he didn’t grow up in an especially blessed household, he’s successful, and doesn’t apologize for it. And that’s incredibly irritating to the white-guilt set.
Last time someone asked Joe about reparations for the descendants of American slaves, he replied, "If they’re demanding reparations, then they can pay me for the death of three white relatives who fought for the North." That was the end of that conversation…
When our Ravens Rolls arrived at the table, my increasingly agitated friends continued with more unfounded accusations, "And Mike Pence is demanding that every woman in American registers her periods online."
I giggled, "That’s right! Menstruation will be stopped and women who are having sex and still having a period will be punished! Did your Huff Post bother to cite whom will be overseeing the menstrual spread sheets? I don’t know much about Pence, but he seems a heck of a lot more decent than Trump…If Trump had a heart attack and Pence was sworn in accordingly, I wouldn’t be terribly upset."
"He hates women! Pence and Trump both hate women!"
"Trump likes women…too much, I think."
Of course, this was also shortly after Trump’s first week in office, so then I had to hear about how women all over the world were going to die because Trump was elected. "How so?" I asked.
"He put a ban on overseas women’s health funds! Can you believe that?"
"Why should we be taking care of women overseas when there are women dying here? And I’m pretty sure this is about American taxpayers funding overseas abortions, isn’t it?"
"No! That’s just the story he’s putting out there to cover up the fact that female health does not concern him!"
"Maybe your right. But why should we be trying to fix everybody else’s problems with our tax money when there is plenty to fix here. Perhaps Americans who want free abortions overseas should send those groups some money…I’m sure they’d take it."
The lunch just went downhill from there. It was the most brief and heated ever, and I’ve been lunching with them for twenty-three years. I just don’t see any clarity in their anger. Perhaps having a conservative in office has emboldened me, but I’m sick of just sitting there while being shot at.
I’m turning 43 next month and will no longer spend time with people who won’t respect who I am or how I choose to live. Shunned by other working married women who might be less smug if they’d practice getting knocked up a little more…
Breeding with someone who loves you is a blessing and watching that love grow into four wonderful little people has not been a burden, it’s been a bonus. Even in the quiet hours I have at least one pair of arms around me, someone that wants to brush my hair, or paint my toes.
T-Rex (5) made me a lovely sterile thirst-quenching gift yesterday…a blue surgical glove full of Frostie Root Beer. And our thirteen-year-old surprised me by making dinner last night- Nachos! (not my idea of a healthy dinner, but whatever). Our ten year old, who emulates my hubby with such inherent likeness (read: grouchy) woke me up at 11pm last night with one more hug and an "i love you, mom". And this morning before school, Q-Tip (7) made me a flying Hummer-like Lego vehicle covered with lasers and machine guns (then got it thoroughly tangled up in my hair).
We’ll be sending our youngest off to kindergarten in the fall…but if Joe hadn’t taken so long to find me then I may have even been more happily "oppressed" than I am now.

*Sterling is a poster boy for the Black Lives Matter who was also in and out of prison and a convicted child molester who was later shot in the chest by white cops, causing a racially charged stir-among-stirs in this nation.
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