Friday, March 12, 2010

Domesticate your cat not your wife…

I was reading an article in Bitch that was talking about the psychological problems of trying to prove yourself on facebook and how facebook is designed to illuminate middle class conformity. A section of the piece states “and pictures of a finger with a giant rock on it, the ‘most amazing man’ a friend has ever know, and the new subdivision house with a little caption that declares your friend ‘domesticated’ ”. Domesticated. How can humans domesticate themselves? Isn’t the entire idea behind domestication making animals or plants conform to a human lifestyle—so that animals and plants can live with humans peacefully? Something about that word really rubbed me the wrong way. It formed a horrid picture in my mind of the middle class suburbanite trapped in her two-story house, her wedding ring like a collar, her husband her master taking her for late night walks, his hand her leash.

I’ve never felt upset when I have seen old friends on facebook update their status from “in a relationship” to “married”, nor have I felt upset when they post pictures of their babies. Facebook doesn’t insist we conform; it is only a social outlet used to keep us all connected. Maybe it’s because I’ve never wanted that lifestyle that I don’t feel compelled towards jealousy. I’m sorry but how could one be jealous of someone who calls themselves “domesticated”? Maybe it’s just because I am confident in who I am and I am happy with the choices I have made in my life. Maybe if I had gone down a different path I would have more insecurities. Perhaps it’s just that I’m a tad bit narcissistically egotistical and I imagine that my “domesticated friends” are actually jealous of me. Or maybe we’re all just pleased with our own life choices. Could that be a possibility? Could we all actually be happy? Nah. But facebook doesn’t reveal the crap-pots of our lives, just an edited version of who we are, domesticated, settled, rebelled, alive.

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