~*~feminism-desu~*~

You know what really grinds my gears?

When people claim that I don’t “support” my husband or I’m just “using him” because I CHOSE to stay at home and become a housespouse. What is so wrong with cooking all his meals, doing all the housework, running errands while he’s working, taking care of our finances, taking care of him when he’s sick, upset, or any other emotion, etc? And when we adopt our children, I’ll be staying at home with them too, and taking care of them just as I take care of my husband. There is no shame in supporting your spouse from at home.  

Nobody  has the right to tell me or him what will work in our relationship. We like how things are set up for us and we have a great marriage. This setup works for us, and we’ve already planned out everything in the event I need to get a job (we split my current responsibilities evenly), or in the event he loses his, etc. 

We are both very happy in our marriage, and have plans for our futures. Even if I block out the haters, they’ll still be there, and there’s no reason for them to even question our marriage just because I don’t have a paying job like he does.

Why I don’t like using “Housewife” or “Househusband”

think about it.

Saying “I am a housewife!” or “I am a househusband!” might be a title of pride for some people. and yeah, I love staying at home and cooking and cleaning while my husband goes to work for me. but I prefer the term “Housespouse.” Not only do I believe it sounds better, but doesnt the husband ,or the wife, do the SAME THINGS if they stay at home while the other works? 

Whether its the husband or the wife at home, there’s still cleaning to be done, things to be fixed, dinners to be prepared, calls to be made, and if there’s kids, well, kids to take care of! It doesn’t really matter who is doing it because it’s still being done. That’s why I prefer saying housespouse. Because there’s no difference between a housewife or a househusband. So really all you’re doing is pointing out the gender of the spouse that’s doing all the work at home!

Housewife

So recently I’ve been being shamed for being a housewife. What’s shameful about it? Do tell, because I don’t understand. I wake my husband up in the morning/afternoon, send him off to work, do the housework, lay around for a while, make dinner for my husband when he gets home, and the cycle starts again.

Who gives a shit that even with my medication, I’m too emotionally unstable to work? I *MUST* not be a real feminist because I choose to stay at home instead of work. Really, though. It’s bullshit. I actually kind of enjoy being at home! I’m also considering starting an online store, to bring in extra money, to help my husband financially without having to leave my comfort zone. Personally I find myself lucky to have a husband who loves me and takes care of me, and is willing to let me do absolutely whatever I feel is best for me. 

Sometimes..

Sometimes I feel like everything is okay in the world. I just sort of forget all the shit that goes on. All the bad shit. All the racism, homophobia, transphobia, cis/sexism, all of it. But then a passerby comes along, and I feel overwhelmed with dysphoria. I feel instinctively self-concious about my hair, my clothes, my posture, my big nose and my crooked teeth. I look down at my legs, and if I’m wearing shorts, I’m aware of the scars, the scabs, and the bruises. I’m aware of my leg hair, if it’s there or not. I’m aware of my underarm hair, if it’s been shaved recently or not. I’m aware of my dark circles, imperfect skin, the places on my hands and arms where I’ve been hurt. I’m aware of my bitten fingernails and my dry skin. 

But then I try to force it out of my mind, try to say “Fuck it, all of thats natural. Everyone gets all of these things. I bet those people woke up with their hair a mess, and I bet they have days where they need to hide their dark circles, feel the need to shave, or fall and get bruises. I bet they all do it. In fact, I know they do.”

But that feeling lingers. I imagine what they must be thinking when they see me, out on the sidewalk, in a baggy shirt, cigarette-burnt basketball shorts, barefoot and with my leg hair happily growing. I imagine what they think when they see my fresh-from-bed hair, taking a drag on my cigarette while keeping an eye on my mom’s dogs while they romp around in the grass. Do they judge me harshly, or not care, while I push these thoughts out of my mind?

I hate how this kind of thinking has been ingrained into society, and burned into our minds. I hate how I’m supposed to shave my legs, and have perfect hair and skin, even if I’m just walking outside so the dogs can do their business. I love it when I can forget it all, and pretend like its socially accepted to not be concerned about that sort of thing. I love it when I forget that I’m biologically a female, and can happily ignore that fact, and bask in my identity as genderqueer. But I only feel that way when it doesn’t matter.

Sure, the sun shines, and children play, and the birds sing, and the cats bask in the warmth outside. They’re so ignorant of all the hate in the world. All the inequality. All of the misdeeds,the violence, the expectations.

My utopia would be a world where there was no hate, and people are accepted as they are, nothing more, nothing less, and where the social constructs of today were much more forgiving, and more loving than they are.