Even as a young girl growing up in Washington, DC, I never thought much about getting married. It was never a thought that daunted my mind with excitement or pleasure. I always envisioned marriage as a state of bondage—a prison; an institution where women must perform routine duties on a daily basis. I saw my mother working, cooking, cleaning, instructing, and, yes, arguing most of the time with my demanding father who never seemed to appreciate her efforts to be a good wife. He acted as if it was her duty to perform for him, to satisfy him, to comfort him, and to be catered to by her.

This scenario of events left distaste for a union that fostered and supported the patriarchal belief that women were nothing more than servants. In some ways, it reminded me of slavery. There was never any time for my mother to relax, to read, to ponder life, for she was always meeting the demands of others. She never had anytime to pamper herself. However, eventually, my mother found the strength and determination to leave my father and build a life of her own that centered on her needs, her newfound sexuality, and her interests. She never regretted her decision, and instilled in her three daughters to be independent, self-sufficient, and strong. Thank you, Mother.

I think that this early recognition of male supremacy led me to feminism once I entered college. The feminist movement created a revolution in psychological thought. I enjoyed reading everything I could get my hands on about women who celebrated liberation and its beauty, and advocated for women to make their own decisions, to go after their dreams of an education, or any other desire that they felt would empower them. I read poems by Audre Lourde, Maya Angelou, Sonia Sanchez, Sylvia Plath, bell hooks, and many other women writers who were desperately trying to break free from societal limitations. Their writing offered women alternative perspectives on womanhood and self-empowerment. Although many of these women were meeting opposition head on from a male-dominated society, they still forged ahead with radical ideologies about the role of women in society.

I have never married, but did give birth to a son seventeen years ago. I made the decision that I did not want to marry my son’s father, and my mother met this decision with no opposition. We elated in adding a new addition to our female family unit, and doted on this new, rambunctious male child. I did find, however, at times, guilt haunted me because I had been led to believe that I was being selfish by denying my son the societal acceptance of marriage. Yet, I did what I felt was best for me, and ultimately ended up being best for my son, for his father turned out to be a shiftless and irresponsible man who seemed to have no feeling at all for his biological son. There were many times that I kept the lines of communicationwith my son’s father, but he seemed to want to hide like a groundhog, shirking his responsibilities. I had become more man than he could ever be because I had to remain strong and stable despite many arduous financial and emotional difficulties I had to deal with in raising my son. However, I never once regretted not getting married. I still enjoyed the freedom to come and go as I pleased, to spend what little money I had on my myself and my son, and to make my own decisions. I was brought up with the belief that taking care of a grown man was an idiotic decision made by any woman, unless it was her son. Men have always had the advantage, and if they are too naïve to recognize it, then that is their problem, not mine.

I am often stigmatized because I did not marry and chose to have a child out-of-wedlock. No one in my family had ever made that decision—for the past generations of women in my family, it was the conviction that you stay in a marriage whether you were happy or not. You always did it for the children’s sake. On some level, I can understand this rationalization for women of that era because there were so few options for women to seek freedom elsewhere. Shelters were almost unheard of and little sympathy was given to women who left their “comfortable homes” and “good husbands.” However, so many women of that era died with broken hearts and unfulfilled dreams because they did not want the stigmas attached to their “decent womanhood.” I, on the other hand, could not care less about what society deems acceptable, nor do I care about men who frown upon my life as a single woman and a mother. I am my own woman, capable and intelligent, fulfilling my potential as a mother, educator, writer, and dancer.

To be honest, I have been able to accomplish many goals in my life as a single woman. Without having to please and accommodate the demanding needs of a man on a regular basis, I have used this time for writing, earning a master’s degree, and teaching young female students about important issues concerning today’s women. In many ways, I have become a role model for my young female students who admire my strength and intelligence. When I hear them say, “Ms. Hopkins, I hope to be like you someday,” I feel an enormous amount of purpose and pride in my career as an educator. I have used literature to expose males and females to the struggles, accomplishments, and radical feminist views that have gotten women as far as they are today.

However, like most sexual beings, I love sex and enjoy sexual time spent with a significant other. Yet, to be honest, I have been practicing celibacy because I just have not found a man that meets my expectations. I could give away freely what I have saved for the man that I believe will appreciate my ability to restrain and resist sex for sexual pleasure only, and who will enjoy engaging in conversations with my mind, but as of this date, he is nowhere to be found. I cannot and will not give up the goods to satisfy a fleeting moment of exhilaration. I am going to choose to love and to give my body willingly to a man that validates and understands the complexity of my womanhood. Even though I am quickly approaching forty and, once again, stigmatized by the belief that women over forty “can hang it up,” I will not waver in my convictions or settle for less. I know that I am worth the wait and the man I choose must believe that.

Living single is an enriching and rewarding life experience. It is a lifestyle choice. Of course, it is not for everyone, for there are those who need the comfort of another, which I call “codependency” because that person has not reached a place of wholeness yet and needs the other half of themselves to feel completed. Fortunately, I do not. I enjoy time spent alone to meditate, to read, and to learn more about “self” and how to empower that self in becoming all that I can become. It is a journey that one chooses to take alone—loving, sharing, and choosing to love those along the way who offer memorable and meaningful encounters that will sustain them through an intense, passionate and mental meeting of mind, body, and soul. I have found that those types of relationships are far more beneficial to me as a single woman than a lifetime of drudgery spent with a man that eventually dies having hardly known me at all.

Carolyn Hopkins is currently a tenth-grade English teacher at Bethel High School in Hampton, Virginia. Additionally, she is a freelance writer and interpretive dancer. She will receive her master’s degree in Teaching and Learning in December of 2002. Ms. Hopkins is currently researching and writing a book that will focus upon the history of oppression and racism of generations of women in her family. She says, “I realized that I was feminist when I never desired to marry and discovered that the real power of a woman comes from celebrating ‘self’ and empowering that self through self-love and self-esteem, with or without a man.”

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