I think a big part of the reason why there’s been such a vehement backlash against any form of feminism recently is that whiny dudes with no redeeming qualities see things like this and think “boy, I would sure love to subjugate another human being into doing my bidding with no expectations on myself besides going to work every day”. They saw how their grandparents’ relationship worked when women were powerless domestic servants and rather than having any empathy for their grandmothers, they just see their grandfathers being waited on hand and foot and think “boy, I bet that’s nice.” They see any attempt for women to emancipate themselves as theft of property and long for the Good Old Days when women could neither change nor escape from their husbands.
My grandpa died in 2015 and the change it’s brought about in my grandma’s personality has been like night and day. She was always sort of treated like a piece of furniture/maidservant by her husband, but now that he’s out of the picture I’m finally starting to see who she really is, and who she probably was before marrying him. When I was little, my parents told me that she used to be a clown. Like, professionally. I never saw it until a few years ago. She was always a quiet, mild-mannered lady who worked at the library and that suited her at the time. But now that she doesn’t have a husband to take care of? Holy shit. That woman is FUNNY. She’s got a filthy sense of humor and razor sharp wit that had just been tamped down like warm embers of a day-old campfire and without my grandpa to take care of 24/7 (he had MS, which took a lot of home care and placed a lot more work on her than even typical 1950s housewives were expected to do) it’s like a breeze blew off the ashes and suddenly she sprang back to life again. I only wish it hadn’t happened so late in her life. It makes me miss the wacky-ass clown grandma I could have had my entire life, and as much as I loved my grandpa when he was alive, the things I’ve learned about how he treated my grandma and my mom and my aunts and uncles kinda makes me wish it had happened sooner. And the guilt for that is wrapped up in the sorrow for the life my grandma never got to have and the love and appreciation I have for the person I didn’t get to see until she was well and truly a Little Old Lady cracking jokes about her car turning back into a pumpkin if she doesn’t get home soon while I help her down the stairs.
