THE FORCE OF SUCH BEAUTY Author Letter

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DE A R R E A DER , When I got married nearly ten years ago, I was genuinely surprised by the princess-ness of it all; how blatant, how embarrassingly forthright the sales pitch, when clerks at the dress store referred to it unironically as YOUR DAY, as though it was the only day that would ever belong to me, or suggested that I try on tiaras. A sales pitch—and a frame that remains impossible to step outside of. No matter who we are to each other, my husband and I are still characterized by others as inside a story that makes him the hero, and me, the grateful beauty. For the past decade, everyone in our lives—colleagues, friends, family—have, subtly but meaningfully, contextualized my decisions through his (but never his through mine). My choice of job, house, or what kind of book to write are reflected back to me through the prism of his achievements; my independence, apparently obliterated by a role that is historically subservient, reproductive, and secondbest. I’m still shocked when people openly probe my childlessness as though it is not a wound, then turn to ask him about his work. I didn’t understand that my worth would be measured so openly, or found so wanting. Yet: I’d been warned—and how. My first toy was a baby doll, followed by dollhouses, mini brooms, and plastic kitchens. All the while, streaming through the ether, on televisions and in picture books, a series of neutered corporate fairy tales taught me that a woman’s greatest goal in life is to be chosen by the most important and eligible man in the land. The world had told me explicitly that I had one purpose, but I believed that it didn’t apply. The need to see myself as exceptional has been a profound driver of my choices, one that motivated me through all of my achievements. But when it comes to the word “wife,” there are no exceptions; apparently, not even for me. Once I realized that, it was impossible not to reflect the world back to itself; to dig out my most powerful conditioning and build something with its dust.


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THE FORCE OF SUCH BEAUTY Author Letter by PRH Library - Issuu