#friedan

"'If I have only one life, let me live it as a blond,'

a larger-than-life-sized picture of

a pretty, vacuous woman proclaimed

from newspaper, magazine, and drugstore ads.

And across america, three out of every

ten women dyed their hair blonde."

When I started to read “The Problem That Has No Name” By Betty Friedan, it just reminded of all the times that I have been going to my doctor every year and while I was in the waiting room just waiting patiently to get call for my physical exam, I had observed that every single year in that waiting room there is a new magazine which are specially to give tips to mother on how to take care of their babies, also I been seem magazines with a cover that has what people (society) consider to be a “Family” (Women, Men, and Child) which are parents magazines. As Friedan was saying women are been told what their roles are, what they have to do, How to take care of their child, what their job is, basically a house keeper, how to cook, even tips in how to do things in order to maintain a men next to them. Even though that women were doing the things that they considered that it was their job to do, they liked it but there was a problem that they had and they didn't know how to say it, how to express themselves, how to let it go out of them.

“Just what was this problem that has no name?”

Woman had that bad feeling, that sadness, that desperation that they did not find the meaning of why, that they didn't know to express it, they just knew that they were not complete at all.

“I’ve tried everything women are supposed to do--hobbies, gardening, pickling, canning, being very social with my neighbors, joining committees, running PTA teas. I can do it all, and I like it, but it doesn’t leave you anything to think about--any feeling of who you are. I never had any career ambitions. All I wanted was to get married and have four children. I love the kids and Bob and my home. There’s no problem you can even put a name to. But I’m desperate. I begin to feel I have no personality. I’m a server of food and a putter-on of pants and bedmaker, somebody who can be called on when you want something. But who am I?”

Women feeled like there was a part of them missing and that part is not been able to work, to be somebody that could be recognized as men are. Just doing the housekeeping and taking care of the children's and been there whenever someone needs them is just not enough.