It was once said that the difficulty in making feminist porn successfully is that what women want most is freedom.
If so, the past few years of my life might be considered highly pornographic, even without the actual sex involved — if you allow for a fantasy that centers around a single, childless woman approaching 50.
I'm defying expectations not just because I'm having fun as I age, but because I'm distancing myself from the central things that are said to give meaning to a woman's life: partnership and child-rearing. Despite all the warnings, I've realized that I don't regret those choices at all.
In fact, I enjoy them so much that almost every message I get promises that my outlook will decrease, but instead, with fewer relationships, less excitement, less sex, less attention, my outlook is expanding. The world is opening up to me more than it ever has before.
That shouldn't be a radical thing to say in 2024, and yet, somehow, it feels that way. We live in a world where power structures continue to benefit from women staying in power. In fact, we're currently experiencing the latest backlash against the modest feminist progress of the past half century. My story, and the stories of other women in similar situations, show that there are other, more fulfilling ways to live.
Just as it's strange to feel so good when there's so much awfulness in the world, it's unsettling to be having so much fun when the opposite is expected. But with age (hopefully) comes clarity.
Turning 50 is a milestone. And the fact that my 50th birthday coincided with or fell around several other important 50th birthdays made a few things clear: Last year was the 50th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the lesser known, but still important, Equal Credit Opportunity Act, which for the first time allowed women to have bank accounts and credit cards in their own names without needing a man's signature.
Because I was born between the passing of these two landmark laws, I am well aware that the life I live today is the result of women having authority over both their bodies and their property. I represent women who live a life where they don't have to ask permission or seek approval. I have taken advantage of all the options available to me, and the results, while coming with their own risks, have been extremely satisfying.
The timing of my birthday also helps me understand the current violent rollback of women's rights as a reaction to the independence these legal rights gave women. Forget the horrors of being single and middle-aged. There is nothing more frightening to a patriarchal society than a free woman. The idea that she might be having a better time without permission or supervision is utterly intolerable.
My entry into middle age certainly had the makings of an uncomfortable story.
Like many, I spent the first few months of the pandemic alone, the kind of solitary confinement that pop science and certain men delight in reminding us of the horrific future that awaits women who stay single for long. I was touched by no one. I couldn't smell anything. This may seem strange, but it's even stranger when you experience it. I was seen by no one except the exterminator for my building and the remaining doorman on the Upper West Side, who offered me a friendly hello from afar during my evening strolls through a pandemic-empty New York.
Single, unmarried, childless, past his so-called prime, he would be portrayed by the culture as a caricature, an outcast identity, a tragedy or a punchline depending on your preference, or at the very least, a cautionary tale.
By August 2021, I was desperate for connection, not a partner. I bought a ticket to Paris, where I spent much of my free time before the pandemic and where I had a group of friends.
Paris, I told myself, was a place where pleasure took precedence, and I dove into that world: cheese, wine, friendship, sex, and then the cycle began.
At first it was a shock. I felt ill-prepared to get what I wanted, what I seemed to have conjured. There were moments when I wondered if I should feel ashamed. I also had never felt so free, so completely myself. I felt neither shame nor guilt, only the excitement that comes from the knowledge that I was exercising my freedom.
These days, there is little in film or literature generally, much less the online world, to suggest that when a woman (let alone a middle-aged woman) is alone, as I have experienced so many times, things will go her way.
There were better times. 1980s sitcoms featured plenty of women with men in supporting roles. Designing Women, Murphy Brown, The Golden Girls — all of which would feel radical if they premiered today (a big if). Then there was Girlfriends. Even Sex and the City, with its often-regressive marriage storylines, is surprisingly modern in its depiction of adult friendships and sexual mores. In each case, just when it seemed as if these stories were beginning to take full root in the real world, the women largely returned to the home (or, in many of Law & Order's storylines, ended up in body bags). By the early 2000s, we were back to real and imagined housewives.
I think a lot of this backlash has to do with men's horror at discovering that men are not as necessary to women's fulfillment as centuries of law and legend have led them to believe. That fear is palpable today. From Harrison Butker's commencement speech suggesting that women might find fulfillment in marriage and having children rather than in a career, to the Supreme Court once again debating abortion rights and pushing to repeal no-fault divorce laws, it's all an effort to put women back in control of others, which means almost all of their rights.
In this light, my enjoyment begins to feel intense. Fly with me. There is no fear here.
Glynis McNicol is a writer, podcast host, and author of the upcoming memoir, “I'm Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself.”
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