May 20, 2026

Imagine coming home to a well-managed house, dishes all clean, clothes washed and hung out to dry, and dinner on the stove waiting for your arrival. 

I really want you to pause and consider this scenario, because this is more than a scene out of Snow White. For many, if not millions, this is a reality, and for some, a nightmare women cannot easily awaken from.

The idea of being handed a script from birth is ludicrous, yet for thousands of years, women are taught their worth and value only applies within the context of heteronormative life. Stories like Snow White and Cinderella begin with these girls living in abusive and/or neglectful situations, their final escape involving them leaving, except not to explore life on their own terms. Instead, they go from one home to another. Where they once found limited freedom in the confines of a home where mistreatment was standard procedure, they now discovered shelter under the wings of men, once again, their independence nowhere to be found.

But these are just fairy tales, you might say. 

Yes, but I know firsthand how easily what you think is a dream come true actually becomes a situation where your wishes are like pennies at the bottom of a wishing well. Just sitting there, rusting, for no good reason at all. Good intentions don’t always lead to “good” outcomes, and what we think is salvation from the world is really a wire cage with an open door. The problem is the key to unlocking it is in the large hands of a man you know, or possibly, not even know at all (applause for “the man upstairs” theology, though he’s not even a man, even in its simplest form. I digress, saving discussion on spirituality for another day).

I have a memory of Christmas time, many years ago, when my children were the size of elves as they ran about my house. I found myself on the floor of my kitchen, scrubbing my grout, though it was a useless task. I probably looked like Cinderella, though I felt this inner satisfaction of understanding what it could have been like to be her. The kids never batted an eye, and my husband (now ex) only became curious when he realized I was not centered on him. The suggestion to stop and watch the Christmas specials with them was never made by him. Coupled with the ingrained notion I had that my worth to the family was tied up in my identity as a homemaker who worked tirelessly, the idea never crossed my mind either. 

Life is definitely not a fairy tale, and rarely do things end “happily ever after.” And sometimes the script is subverted completely, with no warning, and your own reaction is shock. You may believe the natural solution is to bear down, striving even harder to live according to the conforming standards of your society. This happened to me, until the day I understood what I thought was going to be restoration was not of my previous life, but of who I really was, behind the mask I wore as a mother and housewife. From that moment I knew to expect the revival of my true character, not the one I pretended to be, as I scrubbed my floor on a cold, winter night. How I would love to drop a coin into a fountain, wishing life could have turned out differently for myself. Instead, I sigh, and pocket my money, saving it for something more worthwhile and hoping for an easier life somewhere down the road. 

As you consider your hopes and dreams for the future, my sincerest wish is that throughout the process, you discover who you truly are, not someone you think somebody else needs or wants you to be. And may all fairy tales of women being rescued by men saving the day be burned at the stake, rather than the women who dared to be different by attempting to destroy the image men and patriarchal society created for them. 

In today’s story, “Shining Armor,” a man and a woman, both of decent social standing, vie for the same “prize,” but with different intentions. I hope you enjoy this story, and please consider buying me a coffee if you want to see more content like this. ⚢