I have a confession to make – I don’t like doing things that I find difficult.
Recently I took a bed apart and moved it to another room. This may seem like a fairly paltry achievement to most of the world – and indeed it is – but ordinarily I keep these annoying, awkward and screwdriver wielding jobs for my long suffering husband.
He never complains. He never says things like, “Am, for a feminist you aren’t that forthcoming when it involves messy/exerting/difficult jobs, are you?” My logic (excuse) is that I had the babies and that that means I am in credit in the messy/exerting/difficult department. This is quite robust logic as he doesn’t (usually) suffer too much pain of the being-torn-limb-from-limb-by-a-giant variety while moving furniture, cutting grass or fixing stuff.
So, I tell myself I do plenty of other things and that I don’t need to do (more) stuff that’s hard for me.
But it’s not true.
We all do.
There is so much unnecessary suffering in the world that things really need to change.
The likelihood is that we all need to do the messy/exerting/difficult jobs – whatever they happen to be for us as individuals – if that is to happen.
As always, nobody says it better than Anon –
Love conquers all, but if love doesn’t do it, try hard work.