The year was 1928. The world of literature hung out of balance in a patriarchal society with everything from prose to poetry and even their publishing heavily dominated by men. It was in this claustrophobic year that the novelist Virginia Woolf was invited to present a series of lectures at Cambridge University on women writers. These lectures culminated in a book of essays titled A Room of One’s Own, from which the following words became the manifesto of feminist texts of the time:
“A woman must have money and room of her own if she is to write fiction.”
This simple statement continues to ring true today, and not only for writing but indeed for creating anything worthwhile. But the deposits are high, the crime rate higher, the paranoia at its highest, then why should you choose to live alone and sign up for a social war? Darlings, here’s why:
Oh! All That Time!
Our perception of time defines the amount of time we have. If you are sharing a house with a partner or friends, chances are you’ll need to synchronise your mealtimes (and a lot more) with them. But what if you just want to put on Janis’s Turtle Blues on the speakers, a dark stout in the glass and skip food one night? Or what if you want to stay up and finish a long proposal because you’re feeling rather inspired? Alone time is more time.
A Perfect Outlet For OCD
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is the stupid accusation usually dished out by friends when they can’t stand your confidence on exactly how and where you like your things to be. If you want to create an installation of peacock feathers in the bathroom without the slightest breeze (or visiting humans) disturbing it, that’s totally cool. You should do it. And with a place of your own, trust me, it will stay perfect forever. Lay out your most delicate possessions with utmost freedom.
A Goodbye To Aunt Morality
“I guess I’m just like a turtle, that’s hiding underneath my horny shell…” croons Janis Joplin, and I agree. No matter how progressive the society becomes, the truth is there’d still be friends lurking around as undercover moral police. They are the wimpish women who sigh in disapproval listening to your news of the latest wildest. Remember Vicky Cristina Barcelona? Go right ahead, play with Mr (or Ms) No-No. Explore yourself.
Excesses Without An Audience
There isn’t much doubt that women are passionate creatures. We like to get carried away. Some of us like doing book marathons, there are some others who are building extensive handcrafted shea butter collections, some just could go on listening to one single album for 6 months straight. Why? Hormones, perhaps. But whatever your choice of excess, you cannot imagine the boundless joy it can come to hold when unchecked by another person in the room.
The Best Of Double Standards
I think feminists are off their rockers when they claim that men and women are equal. We are not, and hopefully never will be. I’m more than happy to not be forced into earning bread and chawal for the whole family. I say the gender that has been granted the glorious all-pervasive authority bloody well deserves the slogging responsibility that goes with it. I’d rather lie to the world all day long and return to my home after spending money on myself and be truthful about it. As the ever-agitated but very independent Ally McBeal once said, “I have double standards to live up to.”
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