Every Wednesday, three self-employed friends and I get together for co-working. We’re all successful, entrepreneurial women, so feminism and women’s roles in various industries is a common thread in our conversations. Okay, I’ll be honest, that’s a common thread in all conversations I have with all people. But anyway, I had ensconced myself in my friend’s living room to do an interview while the rest of them were working away in the kitchen when I saw, mid-interview, an email pop up in my inbox from a co-co-worker in the other room with the subject line, “Non-dude show host.”
It never once occurred to me that I wouldn’t have a professional career. When women I know drop out of the workforce, whether it’s to have children or for other reasons, I’m always surprised. Not because I don’t think everyone should have that choice and do what’s best for their families, but because it’s something that I have never considered an option for myself; not as a little girl, not while investing decades and thousands of dollars in my education, and not now, when I’m married and of so-called “child-bearing age.” Never even thought about it.
I have to stop changing my Twitter name. I’ve changed it three times this week, and I’m still not satisfied with the state of it. Mostly because a 14-year-old girl in Salzburg took my original one, and now I want it back. The issue is reaching a crisis point.