Blogging resides on the boundary between personal and literary for most people.
I just read a heart-wrenching piece, and it’s impossible to comment on it because it is so personal, but for me, it is also impossible to walk past it without reflecting on it given how sorrowful it is.
Anton Chekhov said something that resonated with me:
“If I had left my family and handed them over to the mercy of fate, I would try to find an excuse in my mother’s inadequacy, in my TB, and so on. This is natural and excusable. This is just human nature.” (my translation)
I think the original blog piece is more about gender, but my point is more about sovereignty, a kind of independence from the past.
We are all functions of what we were yesterday, no doubt about it. My argument isn’t about outcomes, it’s about motives.
Our motives cannot be subverted and limited by what happened to us in the past. This doesn’t mean that we have unlearn what we learnt, but rather find the strength to learn even more about that little bit of space in this world where we do have some control.