“And what about the name? Feminine Mystique... What was the inspiration for that one? Did you have any other names in mind?” The interviewer’s sweet voice made the interview itself a little less boring. Ugh, how tired I was from all of the questions… If they had read the book close enough it would’ve been easier on both me and them.
“I don’t think so, no. It …show more content…
Since I refused to fall under any stereotypes that were created by our society, which means that if my interests are not always pretending I am a housewife and Jimmy from room 25 is my husband, girls don’t want to play with me. And not a single girl would come and kick ball at our spare time, not that they would give them to us anyway. But it’s not like I didn’t like pretending I can bake and make sand cupcakes, no, it’s fun, just… not all the time. But also, I think kids nowadays are just too mean.
“Well, then it will be me. I’ll stand up for you. I’m Betty.” I reached my hand out waiting for her to shake it.
“Girls don’t shake hands.” she exclaimed. It started feeling as if she didn’t like me, after all, it’s not like I had to help her. Those boys could have hurt her even more… Wonder if she’s just like all those other girls.
“I do. And I’m a girl, am I not?” being unable to rebut, she gave up and reached her hand out. …show more content…
I had an opinion on her being exposed to too much propaganda coming from the society, which I had expressed to her a couple of times, but unfortunately, she usually brushed it off. She still believed everything. She believed that women weren’t good enough, smart enough, cool enough, and every time I would tell her that they in fact were, she kept silent. We didn’t argue a whole lot; every now and then there would be an argument that was, of course, caused by me, when she would doubt herself or not want to play tag with me because “girls are supposed to be calm and careful”, but I was understanding. And so was she. We were each other’s safe place and I found that incredibly breathtaking how two people with such differences could get along. I really wish that us being friends would stop people from hurting her.
“That’s what your problem is.” I would say to her. “You’re an easy target.” But once again, as usual, she wouldn’t respond, quickly changing the topic. There’s one particular conversation that I remember though, after another bully got to her in a hundreth time, and how he overstepped the