We have bigger ovens now.

Social norms.

They are sneaky little tyrants, dictating to us what is acceptable, and what is not; what we can be proud of and what we should be ashamed of.

They are embedded deeply into our subconscious causing us to behave, dress, even speak in ways and places that they deem appropriate without us even knowing they are there. They whisper ceaslessly in our being, lulling us into compliance. 

​We don’t question their mandates; they make us believe we are choosing these things for ourselves. 

But are we?

Image by franconamela from Pixabay

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A little girl was watching her mother prepare a ham for the evening meal. She watched with eager anticipation as her mother cut the ham into two pieces, put each piece in its own pan, then put them both in the oven, side by side. 

When her mother’s attention turned to see her observer, the little girl asked, “Mommy, why do you cut the ham in half before you put it in the oven?”

“I don’t know. It’s just the way my mother always did it,” replied the mother. “You’ll have to go ask your Grandma.”

Curious, the little girl did as she was directed. “Grandma, why did you cut the ham in half before you put it in the oven?”

“I don’t know. It’s just the way my mother always did it,” replied the grandmother. “You’ll have to go ask your Great-Grandmother.”

Still searching for an answer, the little girl approached her elderly great-grandmother and asked, “Great-Grandma, why did you cut  the ham in half before you put it in the oven?”

The Great-grandmother smiled and said, “The whole ham would not fit into my oven, so I cut it in half and cooked the two halves one after the other.”

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Like this little girl, I am learning to ask Why. 

Whenever I find myself compelled to behave or to look a certain way, or to say (or not say) something in a particular way or in certain company, I ask myself Why.

Why is it my job to make sure everyone else is comfortable?

Why is it inappropriate for me to dress 'younger than my age'? What does that even mean?!?

Why can’t I wear bright colors, or dance through the store aisles to the music on the speakers to have some fun and enjoy the experience?

Why am I discouraged from disagreeing with a man, but rather be expected to assume a subordinate role to him?

Why does my age mean I must slip quietly into the background, wrapped in greys and beiges, biding my time until I die?​

I see you, tyrant, trying to tell me how to live and who to be. Well, I’m done blindly following your lead. You’ve had quite enough free, unquestioned reign in my life.

And when I ask you Why, you better have a better answer than “That’s just how it’s always been done.” 

Because we have bigger ovens now. ​