Mom? Killing flies is really not critical. You are.

I am sad. My mom, a very gifted woman with one Master's degree and the equivalent of another, said today, in a depressed moment, that all she is good for is killing flies. I, the woman who can't kill a fly herself due to reasons discussed elsewhere, felt horrible because I had asked her to kill the fly. I still feel bad about this, on the verge of tears for several hours, which, though my moods change frequently, is unlike me.
I usually just cry if I need to. So what's stopping me now? I don't know, but I think the answer is anger. My mother taught me and my sister that women could do absolutely anything we want. We had it pretty matriarchal and woman power-y there for awhile after she divorced our dad. (Our father, thankfully, is beyond the scope of both this post and our current lives.) She was Rosie the Riveter, my sister was a mixture of Marsha Brady and Sally Ride, (Go science Go!) and I was Wonder Woman, Pippi Longstocking, and Punky Brewster. (Okay, I loved Strawberry Shortcake too...even feminists have pink periods.) I was happy to believe women ran the world and girls could survive just fine with huge Appaloosas in in Villa Villa Koolah, or however it was spelled, but then my mom married a guy.
My sister was old enough to be gone by then. I wasn't.
And they are still married, and it isn't happy (he drinks) and I'm staying with my mom (who also does my care) long term right now. He's on a business trip right now, and sometimes when he goes I see the spark in my mother's eye, the extra power in her voice when she sings and isn't worried about waking our "King" up. But today, even though he's gone, I heard, "All I'm good for is killing flies" and it just hurt so badly and made me wish we were Rosie the Riverter and her two girls again. And, of course, we
still are, but...
it's different. We say we all become feminists because of political views, which is true, but right now I hate patriarchy for making my mother believe her husband always has it worse, that she's a failure because her house isn't perfect, that this post would shame her if you all knew my real name, and that all she is good for is killing flies.
And even though I want to fight, I'll cry. And even though I want to cry, I'll fight.
My mom has one Master's degree and the equivalent of another. And she doesn't really want you, perfect strangers, to know.
But neither of us wants you to forget.