#orangetheworld

Dear future hubster,

Since this is my first Thanksgiving, and it happens to fall within the 16 days of orange, it's only fitting to list what I'm thankful for.

First, for this Thanksgiving. Not because I'm crazy about the turkey (I actually find them scary), but because it means a whole lot of other things. Chances I've been given, lucky coincidences, financial, moral, hands-on support I received. Questions that haven't been asked, freakouts that have been listened to. Persistent "how you doing" messages that I didn't even answer because I've been looking for my head.

But on a larger scale, I'm thankful for so much more. Especially for the things I know not everybody can experience.

I've been allowed to make my choices. Make no mistake, dear future hubster, I've been given doubting looks, I've been told flat out that I'm making the wrong choice, that it's a bad idea, that I ain't gonna make it, that it's a career suicide, that I should be having children already, that I shouldn't be trying to prove myself that hard. Like I haven't been doubting myself enough already. But at the end of the day, nobody stopped me from doing what I chose, and learn the hard way.

I've been allowed to study! Some was a lucky result of an old-fashioned education system, some was made possible by someone who thought ahead and worked hard for future generations of their family, some I paid for myself. I've been told that a girl should always behave, and have neat handwriting, I've been told in PE class that I'm putting on weight, I've been told in public that bleach blond is a hair colour for hookers. I've been told that smart girls should go to law school or study economics, and that journalism is a joke. But then again, nobody stopped me from learning what I wanted to (and some additional, seemingly useless, and very painful, subjects).

I've been allowed to travel! Backpacking, hiking, road trips, solo drives, mountains, beaches. Slept in tents and shelters, dorm rooms, tiny hotels and large apartments. Shared rooms and sometimes beds with male friends as much as I did with boyfriends. Actually, probably more. Some found it intriguing that a girl would do that, others probably thought I'm compensating for not being married yet. Many thought that I don't ever work, because all I do is travel. Many thought a girl shouldn't be driving across Europe all by herself. 

I've been living abroad. That, dear future hubster, is a hard one. It's an amazing one too. My mother got asked once if she lets me - she didn't understand the question. Still, I've been told and told off, asked not to go, called crazy (that's a compliment in my books), accused of running away, of compensating for not having children, of not being responsible. Often, I have been told that it's easy for me. And of course that a girl shouldn't go to those places, and a girl my age shouldn't live with students. Or other people's husbands. I keep doing all of those anyway.

I've been allowed to work. I've had the luck to work for institutions where I do in fact get paid as much as a man does, doing the same job. Whether it's taken me the same amount of effort or time to get there, is harder to measure. Whether I get the same amount of credit for the same work, whether I'm given the same responsibilities, harder still. And if you ask me, dear future hubster, if I ever play up the girl card, I have to admit that I do. I'm thankful for the realisation that I do, and I'm thankful that it's a bad habit, not a requirement. Am I intimidated by competent, strong women? I am. Prejudices I want to fight tend to stir inner conflicts too. Am I inspired by competent, strong people? Hell yeah. And I'm trying to be one.

Why am I telling you this, dear future hubster? Because I am thankful, but not dumb. I know I've been privileged, sometimes lucky, and I know I've worked hard. But I also know that no matter how hard one works, if not given the same chances. So somewhere deep there is anger and guilt, for all the things I have but other women don't.

So I'm waiting for a Thanksgiving, when my above monologue triggers no more than a bored "Well duh. So does everybody else". 

Until then, I wear my orange hair in protest.