pineapple purple skies.

Miguel probably has the sexiest singing voice in the universe. This song, "Pineapple Skies" has been playing on repeat all weekend (and will likely be this summer's song for me) because 1) it makes me happy; and (2) in keeping with my new found love for personal mantras, "promise everything's gonna be alright", indeed (listen to the song and you'll get it).

I had the pleasure of catching up with my BFF-extraordinaire over the weekend. As always, we had a pretty solid discussion - interspersed with numerous giggle fits - about life, law, and love. When it comes to life, we're both pretty optimistic and universe-centred. We both deeply believe that what we put out in the universe comes back to us in pretty fascinating ways - our respective routes to law school demonstrate this. When it comes to law, we are both extremely passionate about criminal law and the unnerving reality of how we will want to help our clients in more ways than we likely can. She's kind assumed the role as my personal criminal law guru (because she's just so full of wisdom) and she's also my go-to person whenever the law leaves me deflated. Actually, she's pretty much my go-to person for everything. She's always level-headed, we basically always see eye-to-eye (except when I'm being stubborn), and she just "gets" me. When it comes to love, we have both had our share of ghosts of relationships past and sometimes (all the time) we need a not so gentle reminder that we're (I'm) being stupid and we (I) need to stop being stupid. 

She says that I am always too hard on myself. She thinks that I am too kind to people who are undeserving and not kind enough to myself. I tried to explain to her that my acts of kindness were twofold: (1) I genuinely want to help; and (2) I straight-up don't want bad karmic energy around me. I would really rather not have something I do that's shitty or petty or mean, come back and hit me in the face later on in life. But, her rebuttal was stronger than my reasoning because I need to learn how to stay in my own lane and recognize that I can't help people who don't want to be helped. Also, she reminded me that I need not worry about bad karma because I didn't do anything wrong. So, I conceded and promised her that I would start being kinder to myself because if I don't set the standard of how to treat myself, then others are going to assume a standard. And I don't want that happening - not again. Never again. 

In being kinder to myself, I've decided to be more assertive in going after things that I want. I don't like being spoon-fed (as you can read about that here) and I want to work for all that I get because I'll appreciate it so much more that way. With the advent of this blog launching a couple of weeks ago as a tool for me to creatively write about my thoughts on various issues, I finally started to see myself more and more as a "writer". I've always been reticent about calling myself a "writer" because I straight up don't think I'm that creative and writers are creative. Creativity lacking aside, I've somehow positioned myself to be in the midst of new and exciting opportunities that I really can't even believe are happening. If I've ever had a "trust the timing of your life" moment, this would be it. As much as things had fallen out of balance with me a few weeks ago, it's almost as if my chakras are starting to align again and I'm regaining my footing. It's exciting. It's promising. And it's making me really, really happy - so much so, that I'm smiling to ear to ear as I type and listen to this super happy song!! ALSO, I was smiling the entire uber ride back to the office from lunch, the walk up to my desk, and at my desk and was pretty much smiling the rest of the day. I'm just so freaking happy that I truly cannot believe my life - like, you know how people say "be the reason to make someone smile" or whatever tf the saying is?? Well today, I was my own reason to smile and I'm so freaking proud of me!!!!!

But for real, coming back down from cloud 9 for a hot sec, trust the timing of your life because things happen when they're supposed to happen. And the universe really does have a pretty magnificent way of working it's magic, because the moment I let shit go and left things alone that were not meant for me, I almost immediately created the space for better things. And these better things that have come - and are continuing to come - are happening as a direct result of me being kinder to me. And that's p dope.

So yeah, Miguel, you're so right - everything really is gonna be alright.

men and their feminism—when having it "all" is "too much"

Growing up, I never had dreams of getting married. I never had dreams of wearing a ridiculous poofy white dress with a veil covering my face (what's the point of that even?). I never had a "dream" guy (though I do now, Donald Glover hmu!) And I never dreamed of my dad walking me down the aisle. 

Growing up, I had dreams of becoming a doctor (since I was already a princess). I had dreams of opening up my own practice and helping my patients however I could. I had dreams of working at the hospital and getting paged in the middle of the night because I was usually on-call. And throughout these dreams, it was always just me. No one else. 

As a "grown up", I'm neither married, nor a doctor. Not even close to either of these things. And honestly, I'm good with that. My dreams of becoming a doctor never fit my puzzle of reality - it just was not meant for me. When I had to make the decision to choose between medicine and law, I chose what I knew was best for me - even though it left nearly everyone in my life super perplexed. It took a few years to come to the realization that law was what aligned all of my passions and medicine was something best left to the "nicer" Anor (my sister). So, here I am - a law student. A driven, ambitious, and independent, young feminist who, contrary to recent events, is actually a very strong woman. I'm pretty badass when I want to be and I can't ever let myself forget that (not that my wonderful friends and family would ever actually let me forget that). 

While these are some qualities that make me feel valuable, I'm beginning to think that not everyone sees these qualities as inherently good. And when I say "not everyone", I mean men. I've often heard men say that they want a strong and independent woman. I've often heard men say they like sass and they want a woman who knows what they want. I've heard men call themselves feminists. I've heard a lot of things from men, but honestly, my experience with men has taught me the opposite of all these things. They want to be able to say that they want a strong and independent woman (because societal narratives say that's "in" now), but once they have us, they don't know what to do with us. Suddenly, we become "too much" and then they start claiming that we expect "too much". They want to be able to say they like sass and they want a woman who knows exactly what she wants (again, consistent with what is "in" rn), until we vocalize it and it's contrary to what they want and/or are willing to give us. Or they feel disrespected because we opined our thoughts about something they said. Suddenly, our decisiveness and our sass are again, "too much" because it directly contradicts their indecision, their mental/emotional instability, and their insecurity. How dare we have opinions, amiright? How dare we be the voice of logic and reason? Don't we know that's their job and we're supposed to be the hyper-indecisive, wishy-washy, mentally and emotionally unstable ones? The division of emotional labour is still very much a live issue in relationships in 2018; what's lacking is, unsurprisingly, reciprocity and equality. Enter third-wave feminism.

At it's core, feminism is about equality. Equal rights and equal opportunities are the pretty much the basic tenets of feminism. Very briefly, the third wave of feminism is a cultural movement that empowered all women and redefined women as assertive and in control of their own bodies and sexuality (the law played an interesting role in this cultural movement with R.v. Morgentaler and other big cases, but that's a discussion for another day). Women began to own their sexuality (rightly so) and have been making conscious efforts to subvert patriarchy and to get rid of misogynistic undertones in Canadian society. But there's still a lot more hard work ahead of us. Feminism is not sexy (contrary to how men perceive this third wave of feminism to be). Feminism is not simply posting boudoir photos on your Instagram page. Feminism is not simply about showing the world how beautiful you are (and you are beautiful) by posting half-naked photos of yourself on social media. Feminism is not simply about wearing a tight tank top with the word "feminist" slapped across your chest. That type of "cupcake" feminism is sexy and is likely why it is found appealing to men (not that feminism ought or ought not to be appealing to men, really, who cares). But that's only a portion of what feminism actually is. In reality, feminism is very un-sexy. It is hard work. It requires an all too literal combination of blood, sweat, and tears. The fight for equality is a fight that will not be won by simply endorsing a version of "cupcake" feminism, when women - especially women of colour -  continue to be overlooked for opportunities for professional advancement. The fight for gender equality in a misogynistic, patriarchal, and colonized society is a continuing uphill battle where women are consistently viewed as the "Other", the "submissive", the "docile", the "weak", the "vulnerable", the "crazy", the "bitch", and the list goes on. 

For centuries, men needed women to be viewed in this way. The ego - nvm male ego - is a particularly fragile phenomenon; it is constantly in search of validation and praise (which has only heightened in today's use of social media). Men needed to be the breadwinners. Men needed to be the providers. Men needed to be the decision-makers. Men needed their juxtaposition to be inferior and subordinate (also, that's literally what women were - a mere juxtaposition for comparison). As much as we have begun to see the subversion of these archaic ideals and as much as men claim they're all for feminism, us young feminists - male and female alike - still have a long way to go. Because, let me tell you: my experience with men is that they're not really feminists, in the same way I'm not really into that whole hippie, green, vegan, yogic lifestyle (I like showers, deodorant, and beer). Based on personal experience and experiences of my fellow female besties, it seems as though men subscribe to the type of feminism that benefits them - i.e. cupcake feminism via social media. I want to make it clear that I am not poking fun or judging women who post sexy/suggestive selfies on social media - absolutely not. For me to do that does not empower women in any way; if anything, it supports patriarchal structures of "slut-shaming" women. You do you, bb girl. All the more power to you! What I am saying, however, is that feminism goes far beyond your selfies. Yes, it is incredibly important to empower yourself - I mean, duh, that's kind of the rationale behind this blog - but realize that the fight for equality requires much more intensive action, advocacy, and hard work to continue to shatter glass ceilings for all women because the future is female. It's yours. It's mine. It's ours.

I want the same opportunities as my white and POC male counterparts to be made available to me. These social constructions of race, gender, sexuality, etc. should not have any bearing on my ability to be afforded those same opportunities. Moreover, my biology should not have any bearing on my ability to be afforded those same opportunities. I don't want to be asked "what will happen when you have kids?" in my interviews. I don't want to be asked "where are you really from?" in my interviews. I don't want to be asked "are you thinking of having a family one day?" in my interviews. I don't want to be asked "what happens when you get married?" in my interviews. But the harsh reality is that I will be asked those kinds of questions. And that's the reality that feminists and female POCs face in the workplace. And that is exactly why law needs feminism; wait, let me correct myself - that is exactly why law needs intersectional feminism. #LawNeedsINTERSECTIONALFeminismBecause law needs more people who look like me. #LawNeedsINTERSECTIONALFeminismBecause the world needs more ROLE models and less Instagram models.  #LawNeedsINTERSECTIONALFeminismBecause female diversity strengthens, not weakens, the profession. And this is why the law needs me. I am a strong, independent, and fearless woman who is not afraid to say what is on her mind and piss off old white men. My goal is to create a more balanced legal profession by utilizing intersectional feminism as a force to see equity, equality, and reciprocity through to active fruition within the profession. And that angers the "old boys club", but that's just too bad. Opportunities should not be rationed or allocated according to random social constructs.

I never thought about getting married or having kids, really ever. The only time I thought about it was in my last relationship, where had it not ended, I probably would be a wife with kids right now (ew). But I wasn't myself in that relationship; in fact, I lost myself in that relationship. Truthfully, I always thought that, that part of my life would figure it out on it's own, once I was done accomplishing what I had wanted to do. However, as I grow, so do my goals. My reality is that I am never going to feel "done" - I'm always going to want more. More of what is the question - relationship? Kids? Family? Degrees? Definitely the last one, maybe the first few - either way, I'm always going to want to have the opportunity to decide which of "more" or what parts of "all" I want. And I refuse to be told that what I want, what I feel, and what I am equally deserving of is "too much". 

PSA to all the men who read this far, feminist or not: When dealing with a strong, independent, and decisive woman, don't under appreciate and misunderstand the values of reciprocity and equality. If we're asking it from you, you're getting it from us. Shit goes both ways, always. Don't seek out a partner when all you want is someone to stroke your ego - that's not how either of you grow. And finally, check yourselves because we're never "too much" - maybe you're just "not enough". 

Also, in the super off-chance that Donald Glover is reading this: I've loved you forever and I know you're high-key into Filipina girls, so... come thru fam🔥🔥

"be the angry woman"

Audre Lorde was a queen. She was bold, brilliant, and badass. Her efforts to combat racism in the academy (and in society) are unparalleled - yet, few know her name. This post is dedicated to you, Ms. Lorde, because you epitomize the kind of brilliant bad-assery (yes, I made up a word - Shakespeare did it all the time, so why not me?) that I hope to one day eventuate.

Your 1981 speech, "The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism", is pinned to my wall. Every time I read it, I get inspired, I get worked up, and I get...angry. I get angry over how racism still exists in the academy. I get angry over how racism still exists in the workforce. I get angry over how racism still exists in the school yard. I get angry over how my job prospects in the legal field may be severely limited due to the colour of my skin. I get angry over how lawyers - my future peers and colleagues - are angry about the LSUC's recently released diversity policy, which stipulates that lawyers must submit a "statement of principles" once a year that promises to promote diversity in the legal profession. I didn't realize that diversity was such a controversial topic. I didn't realize that my future peers and colleagues would prefer to have me pushed out of the profession simply because I'm not white. And if I'm being completely candid, I didn't realize that my race would be such a significant barrier to my future success within the legal profession until coming to law school and seeing the harsh realities of the hiring processes.

I grew up in a privileged household. I grew up with two loving parents, two beautiful siblings, and a big extended family of cousins who may as well be considered my siblings. I went to private school. I was given a car on my 16th birthday (even though I couldn't drive it...and still can't drive it alone. Yes, I realize how stupid that is and no, I don't want your two cents about it). And I was brought up with the understanding that I could do and I could be anything I wanted if I was willing to work hard for it. My parents taught me that the only thing standing in my way between me and the world was me. If I wanted it, I had to work for it, and then I'd get it, simple as that. In a nutshell, I was taught that hard work pays off. My parents immigrated to Canada from the Philippines when they were teenagers and they worked their asses off to be as accomplished, as settled, and as successful as they are now. They were able to provide their children with the life they never had, in hopes that we would turn out better than them. But in 2018, I don't know that, that's possible. 

I grew up in a neighbourhood that was predominantly populated by Italians. I knew I was different at school, but I didn't really know that I was different. I remember playing with my Barbie Dolls - who represent the dominant archetype of beauty - wishing I had blonde hair and blue eyes. In fact, I remember asking my mom if I could have blonde hair and if I could colour my eyes blue with a marker so that I could look like my dolls and the other girls at school. But other than that, I pretty much grew up colour-blind. Once I went to high school, I was again the minority; but, I was never really aware of that. All my friends were white. Most, if not all, of my friends to this date are still white. Really, the only other Filipinos I know are my cousins, whom I hang out with all the time; but, in terms of meeting other filipino people at school or in life, nada. None. Literally zero. Even throughout my undergrad and grad studies, I remained a minority. Again, I was never really aware of the fact that I wasn't white - I felt as though I was always treated equally among my peers, so I never really internalized my race. Until law school.

The University of Ottawa has the biggest law school in all of Canada. They accept just over 300 first-year students. There was probably two first-year filipino students in my cohort, myself included. 

I don't know if you guys know this, but there's an articling crisis happening out there. Society is oversaturated with lawyers and there aren't enough articling positions out there to accommodate newly graduated law students with massive student debt. The legal profession has traditionally been an "old boy's club", which puts me in a rather difficult position because 1) I'm neither old, nor white; and 2) I'm not a man. According to some LSUC stats, only 17% of Ontario lawyers are racialized and of that 17%, many had stated they struggled to find articles, could not find a mentor, and have been denied files at their workplace. It's a little ironic that the profession I entered into in an effort to fight discrimination is straight-up a place of grave discrimination. AND even with the recognition of systemic racism within the profession and the LSUC's efforts to eliminate that, my future peers and colleagues are getting all upset about having to increase diversity within the profession to allow people like me from fully participating because they maintain it infringes on their s.2(b) freedom of expression rights....like what?! Are you kidding me right now? You're telling me that I worked my ass off to get into law school and am so deserving to be there - and btw, killed it in 1L, but am not deserving enough to find articles and be gainfully employed because I'm not white? K. 

Enter Ms. Lorde. I'm angry. I'm angry that my parents did everything right to raise me into a hardworking individual, deserving of all the opportunities - yet, I may not even get a chance to explore any of them because I'm not white and I'm not a man. I'm angry that I poured my heart and soul into getting into law school and getting good grades in law school only to find out that my efforts are completely futile. I'm angry that I am likely going to have a more difficult time gaining traction and setting up my foundation in my chosen area of the legal field that is currently dominated by white men, than my Caucasian female peers. I'm angry. 

But anger is good. As Audre Lorde says,

"Every woman has a well-stocked arsenal of anger potentially useful against those oppressions, personal and institutional, which brought that anger into being. Focused with precision it can become a powerful source of energy serving progress and change. And when I speak of change, I do not mean a simple switch of positions or a temporary lessening of tensions, nor the ability to smile or feel good. I am speaking of a basic and radical alteration in those assumptions underlining our lives."

Anger is a powerful, productive emotion that can ignite a spark in you to make changes. Anger is simultaneously viewed as a negative emotion that inhibits growth. For me, the balance in deciphering where to draw the line between anger 1 and anger 2 is how I ultimately decide to utilize it and where I see the most opportunity for growth. Too often are women afraid to be angry (at least, I know I was, in both my professional and personal life, but not anymore), for fear of being called "crazy". Well, fuck that. Honestly men, who gives af about what you think about me? Call me crazy, call me psycho, call me a bitch, tell me I'm "too emotional", "too this", or "too that" - call me whatever tf you want. Because I don't care anymore. I'm angry. I'm passionate. And I'm here to tell you that I refuse to accept a reality where I will be overlooked for articles, work, and promotions - when I am just as deserving of them as you, if not more - because of the colour of my skin. Persistence, resilience, and being unafraid to "be the angry woman" in situations that aren't fair, aren't just, and aren't equal are all opportunities for me to focus my anger with precision to fight for and advocate for a more equitable legal profession. In harnessing my anger and releasing it into a productive fight for equality - not just for women who look like me, but for all women of colour - it might be possible to see a paradigmatic shift in the legal profession where problems like access to justice dissipate because clients will begin to feel more comfortable with a lawyer who not only understands them, but also relates to them in terms of race, gender, and sexual orientation. The law is seemingly impenetrable to those unfamiliar with it. It's serious. It's scary. It's overwhelming. People like me, who passionately want to advocate for injustices experienced because of oppressive laws and practices, can help remedy the access to justice crisis in significant ways. The profession just needs to give me an equal and fighting chance to do so. 

feel and flow.

In November 2016, I wrote about Puzzles and Epiphanies. I talked about how I made some big decisions regarding where to prioritize my energy and talked about how things need to naturally come together without forcing things that just won't fit, no matter how badly you want it to.

While much has changed since that post (including a whole new website!), I find myself struggling to piece together parts of my puzzle that just don't seem to fit. And it sucks. But maybe, I just need a new puzzle again.

Let's recap my life events since that post:

1. I unapologetically started focusing on what was best for me and started my process of becoming and bettering by doing more and more yoga - you can read more about that here.

2. Just a few months into my whole 'new year, new me' attitude, I got my first law school acceptance - with a scholarship! There were really no words to describe how I felt about that moment, other than proud. Proud of me for doing me and accomplishing a big portion of my puzzle.

3. A few months after that, I got into my dream law school. While I was obviously ecstatic about that, I knew that I had some very big decisions to make - if not, the biggest and most impactful decision of my life. That cloud kind of put a damper on my excitement; but, once I visited both campuses, I knew that Ottawa was the place I was meant to be. I wasn't wrong.

4. A few months after that, my wonderful family moved me to Ottawa and I began my first year of law school.

5. Even though I was terrified that I wouldn't make any new friends (I was quite content with the friends I had tbh), I was introduced to a whole new pool of brilliant minds and made some of my best and most supportive friends that I know I will cherish throughout the rest of my life. Literally, they became my lifeline and law fam throughout 1L and I doubt that I would have been able to survive 1L without them.

6. I joined the Canadian Association for Refugee Lawyers (CARL) - uOttawa Chapter with my little babe, LS, and somehow ended up co-chairing one of CARL's biggest events of the year - Refugee Night. That was probably one of the best things I did (if not the best) during my first year of law school.

7. I continued to meditate and practice yoga - and started spinning! - as often as I could during 1L in order to keep myself sane from all of the crazy amount of work (as well as try my best to maintain somewhat of a social life, even though I spent most nights at home reading case law and binge watching Netflix).

8. I did surprisingly well on my midterms and realized that maybe, just maybe, 1L wasn't all that bad.

9. I wrote my finals and realized that I could be horribly wrong about the above...we'll see though.

10. I got one of my research papers that I had written during my MA published in the University of Victoria Graduate Student Anthropology Journal - that was a pretty cool reminder of how I got here in the first place.

11. I sat in on a JPT with my super awesome mentor.

12. I did two solo-court appearances on behalf of said mentor and spoke words in front of a judge and was called counsel and everything!!

13. I survived the multiple mini-mental breakdowns I had that occurred more than once in November and March with the help of my newly minted articling student BFF-extraordinaire, MB.

14. I discovered new areas of law that I'm interested in that I never thought I'd ever be, with the encouragement of some amazing professors.

15. I finished my first year of law school!!

A lot has happened in just over a year. It's kind of crazy to think about how much I have accomplished in such a short period of time. It's even crazier to think about how much I've simultaneously grown and not grown throughout that time. And that's a harsh reality that I am currently coming to terms with. 

2017 was a year where I completely focused on myself. I intentionally created my own happiness and realized more about myself this year, than I had in the past 25 years (man, I'm old!). I felt as though I found my balance - which is, of course something I can only say in retrospect. 2018 on the other hand, was a little different. I began opening up to the idea that I was finally in a good place within myself that I thought I could be open to the idea of being with another person again. I knew that after my last relationship, I did not want to be in another - for fear of losing myself and all the good I created - for a long, long time. I was protective over my feelings and very selective with whom I spent my time. I never liked the idea of jumping into a new relationship once one ended - that just really ain't my style. Being open with someone, being vulnerable with someone, and letting another person in after you've been so brutally damaged is a terrifying idea for me. I remember how heartbroken I was when my last relationship ended and how worthless I felt, and how I worked so hard to get right within, that I really did not ever want to feel that broken and lost again. I never wanted to put myself in a situation where I was at risk of becoming that emotionally and mentally shattered. As much as I didn't want any of that to happen, it sort of almost did. I'm upset with myself for forgetting that I matter - if not to the other person, then to myself. I'm proud of who I am, who I have become, and who I am becoming and I shouldn't put myself in the position where my worth is ever in question. That's silly. So, as disappointed with myself as I might be, I'm kind of proud of myself for 1) realizing that I'm human and make mistakes that cause me to fall out of balance every once in a while; 2) being finally able to open up to the idea that I could possibly be in a relationship again; and 3) reconciling my past with my present and coming to the realization that whatever feelings I may be experiencing at this moment - however uncomfortable - are okay. This is just a reminder that I'm still growing and that's kind of beautiful, in a messed up, uncertain way. 

While my summer is not going according to what was originally planned, I am reminded on the reg by my incredible support system that I have so much to celebrate and so much to look forward to that it's silly to be sad about plans going awry. But, I have a thing about revisiting things that once caused me pain (I might be some sort of masochist, who knows) because I'm a firm believer that revisiting does not equate reliving. I'm not reliving the past, I'm just revisiting it - to document my growth, to see how my perspectives have changed, and to just...feel. However, my support system is right in that I do have a lot to celebrate (hello, see above 15 things) and to look forward to and starting a new job and keeping this blog dope are some of them! I should know by now that I can plan shit as much as I want, but the universe always has something bigger and better in store. My entire adult life is testament to that and I don't know why I thought I could trick the universe this time around; but clearly, I was wrong. And that's okay. For now, I'm going to just feel whatever comes up and flow with it until it subsides, no matter how shitty the feeling may be. I can't be afraid to let myself feel things because, well again, I'm human and that's what we do. Eventually, I'll come back into balance, and I might be closer to it than I think.

"madame bovary is me"—gustave flaubert.

*Written in the summer of 2015 - oldie, but goodie

Same, same Flaubert, but like, different.

At first glance, the life trajectory of Emma Bovary is bleak. She’s this smart, beautiful, well-educated, and extremely well-read young woman who had a lot of potential, but lived a less than modest lifestyle on a country farm. One day, her father gets sick and this awkward, boorish, boring doctor comes over and pretty much starts gawking at her, whilst treating her dad. Nonetheless, this then-married doctor starts coming over on the regular and would sit and watch her sew or paint or ask her for a drink…but he would never really try and talk to her or get to know her. Emma, the insightful chick she is, knew of Charles’ attraction to her, but never really showed any sort of interest in him; which, likely made Charles want her more because even in the 19th century, you always want what you can’t have.

Charles’ much-older wife found out about Emma’s existence and forbade him from going back to the country. But, she got sick and died (a somewhat common motif throughout the novel). So, Charles, being a huge dick without imagination, went back to the country to try and woo Emma. Emma remained un-woo-able. Her father, on the other hand, was all like, “OK, if you really want to marry my daughter, you can…but she’ll need to be OK with it too”. Turns out, Emma - much like myself - thought that, you know, sometimes, it’s good to try new and different things and she had read so much about how great love could be, so why not experience it for myself? So, she married the boring doctor. And hated life.

Charles would come home from work and talk about this patient and that patient and Emma would just roll her eyes because she just didn’t give a crap about her husband’s day. Instead, she would have loved to speak to him about what fantastic book she had just finished reading and her very likely insightful thoughts about the book (Emma stayed at home all day because, well, it was the 19th century and it was a misogynistic society). As much as she had tried to talk to Charles about her big ideas, her thoughts, and things that were important to her, Charles was always uninterested and/or too stupid to understand what she was saying. He never, not once, showed any interest into his wife’s interests - yet, claimed that he loved her and thought that she was the most amazing thing in his life. And, straight up, she was the most amazing thing to ever happen to Charles - he just didn’t realize to what degree because he was too selfish to engage in her interests/hopes/dreams. To Charles, Emma was the perfect trophy wife: she was beautiful, complacent (for a time), and lived to serve him and his happiness (again, for a time). He never dug deep into his wife’s mind, heart, and personality and when Emma would try and talk to him on a level she was more comfortable in, he would just fall asleep! 

Emma began to resent her husband. Everything he did, everything he said started to annoy her. She hated how boring he was, how unthoughtful he was, how boorish he was…she honestly hated everything about her married life. The life she was living was neither remotely close to the life she had envisioned for herself, nor was it remotely close to what her novels had described “true love” to feel like. She couldn’t talk to her husband, she couldn’t do what she wanted, her independence became limited and she became dependent on a man whom she had grown to despise. He limited her intellectually and they just had nothing in common. 

Throughout most of part 1, I have never empathized more with a fictional character than I had with Emma. I know what it’s like to feel restricted and how it feels to do things out of respect for your relationship because at that point, you don’t know any better. I know what it’s like to practice a form of forced complacency, to wait on someone hand and foot and have your actions go unappreciated. I know what it feels like to have someone want you for reasons other than what you feel makes you valuable. Emma’s mind, in part 1, was her true asset - her love for books, meaningful conversations, and big, passionate thoughts is what truly sets her apart from all of the other lame women introduced in the novel. But, her mind remained unappreciated by her husband. Her husband valued her solely for her looks; his “love” for her was superficial at best. He did for her, not out of love, but out of decency and out of marital duty. Emma knew that. And that made her hate him even more. She (and I) is SO MUCH MORE than just a pretty face - complacency and subservience is not in her (nor my own) nature - and all she wanted was for her husband to LISTEN to her, to CONVERSE with her about things other than the shit he wanted to talk about…but, unfortunately for both Emma and myself, that never happened. 

Luckily for me, my own “Charles” did me a huge favour and ended things. If he didn’t, it might not be so farfetched to assume that my life would have gone down a similar moral spiral like that of Madame Bovary’s. Emma yearned for attention and passion - which, she got from that douchebag Rodolphe. She sought an intellectual companion - which, she got from Leon. She entertained herself with lavish spending in between lovers and eventually resulted to prostitution to pay off her debt, so that her clueless husband would not find out about her extra-marital affairs. Finally, when she could not take it anymore, she committed suicide. 

In spite of all of her morally questionable actions, I still find it difficult to hate the “dark” heroine. She imagined a life for herself so grand, but was thrusted in to a life that did not resemble her imagination at all and was instead, disappointed with how married life turned out to be. If her relationship with her husband had been better - if he had only taken an interest in his wife that went deeper than sheer physical attraction - then I find it hard to believe that our protagonist would have experienced such a drastic fall. Personally, I think the most heartbreaking part of Flaubert’s narrative was her marrying that boring idiot in the first place. But, perhaps that’s just because I’ve been making some self-realizations of my own via classic literature and writing. 

Nonetheless, I guess Madame Bovary is both me…and a story of what could have been me. But, I’m curious to know - what did you mean by that statement, Flaubert?