Remember the days when a woman got married and instantly became the property of her husband? When a girl's biggest source of pride was snagging herself a spouse? When females eagerly traded in their own identities for those of their men? Remember that? Neither do I. Because it was a trillion years ago! We don't do that bullshit anymore...and haven't for DECADES...so, kindly quit referring to women by their husbands' names. "Mr. and Mrs. Bob Smith." Unless she had super-progressive parents who named her Robert, it's time to knock that shit off!
No other season puts this ancient sexism carnival on full display like the annual parade of holiday cards streaming into women's homes. Nothing says "Season's Greetings" like reminding your female friends and family that you don't consider them worthy of having their own names.
Even better is when we're left off entirely. "Mr. Bob Smith and Family." Now, this might be slightly...and I mean SLIGHTLY...less douchey if it's Bob's acquaintances who do this. But when it's his wife's friends and family who completely ignore the fact that she exists, that's just a dickwad move of the highest magnitude. Extra ass points if they've never even MET that husband. And, yep, I've got a handful of those that show up at my house every year.
"Awwwww, but it's the thought that counts." Why, yes. Yes, it is. And if someone sent a man a birthday card addressed to "You Don't Actually Matter," he'd likely just toss that bitch right in the trash. Yet women are expected to overlook the slight, pretend it doesn't matter, tighten their corsets, and smile understandingly.
It's mystifying that people continue to robotically honor this antiquated insult-turd masquerading as etiquette. We drive cars, have college degrees and vote now. We don't keep hope chests, don't come with dowries, and don't ask for permission before wearing lipstick. Know what else we don't do? Enjoy being called by somebody else's name.
Here's something else that could use some honest discussion...
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