I am just starting classes for a degree in anthropology. I adore anthropology. It took me twelve years to realize what it was that I wanted to study in college. So here I am, mother of Sprout, wife of Tree, proclaiming my freedom from the vision of the domestic goddess I thought I'd become. I want to be an anthropologist. I want to pursue graduate degrees. I want "Dr." to be a part of my name (though really, that's just a pride thing, I really don't know that I want to spend THAT much time on my own education...)
I don't want ten children. I have a hard enough time with one dear child. He's a handful, but not as insane as some children I've seen. I want him to have a happy, contented, loving mommy--not a screaming banshee who stays repressed and creatively shut down and resents her children and then feels guilty. I'm thinking two will be enough because I don't believe in creating a child and then not giving him any siblings. It's just mean.
I want to travel to distant places, using my education to help people--mostly women and mothers who need better nutrition or freedom from oppression so their children can grow healthy and strong. Starving and malnourished/obese children make me angry. That should not happen. WE KNOW BETTER. (but that's a post for another day)
I want to bring my family with me--all two of my children and Tree. Tree is going into green energy. The things we could do together!! We could save little villages, or improve a slum. Our children would learn by BEING places, not just reading about them. They would learn charity and selflessness and hard work. They would have freedom to pursue any academics or education they desired instead of having it shoved down their throats behind a desk, surrounded only by children their own age who don't know anything.
In between traveling, I would return home to our little house on a homestead owned by friends and we would do hard work on our little farm and contribute to our own community. My love of cooking and canning and even hanging laundry outside to dry would be satisfied. My children could milk their own goats or cow, and collect eggs from the chickens after weeding the organic garden.
And then I'd go inside to write. I want to write fiction fantasy from a feminist's perspective. I want to be published as a scientist--for what, I don't know yet, but I'm sure I'll figure something out in the next few years!
This is my ideal life. The exciting thing is that it's all possible! It's even probable! We have been so blessed in having what we need financially, even during times of want and strain. And we are blessed in our freedom of mind and spirit and heart, despite the somewhat restrictive culture we live in.
It is such a relief to acknowledge that the dreams I've spouted for years (and secretly worried about) are entirely cultural in origin. My search for acceptance and love has always pointed in the same direction: a whole bunch of children, clean house, organized finances, organized and full pantry, home-sewn clothes, farm animals, and a garden that actually produces. In other words, I wanted to be my sister-in-law.
The fact of the matter: trying to become something I'm not, even if I do a fabulous job at it, will never earn me the love and acceptance that I crave. I cannot control the emotions of people in my family or of my peers. I can only be the best me that is possible. I can only follow the driving passions that are in my very soul, untouched by the crust of my past and the expectations of the ones who raised me.
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