Defying Patriarchal Expectations: An Inspiration by “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Gilman

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Defying Patriarchal Expectations: An Inspiration by “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Gilman

For the third time in less than a week, Liam, my chauvinistic and newly wedded husband, turned down my request to get a driver’s license, arguing that driving was not a woman’s job. My pleas for a chance to prove myself fell on deaf ears, as he stubbornly maintained that the steering wheel was not as woman's place. Thus, Liam’s constant turndowns hurt not only because I expected him to support me as his wife, but also because it proved how much he despised me for being a woman. This realization triggered in me rebellious feelings, motivating me to defy my husband and pursue my interests. 

Liam’s attitude did not surprise me at all because he had been brought up in a male-dominated and deeply conservative society. Not surprisingly, he expected me to submit to his authority and embrace domestic chores. Himself a truck driver, he would go for days on weeklong trips to Mexico or Canada, hauling furniture and other household items. During these periods of his prolonged absence, I secretly enrolled in driving classes to acquire my driver’s license. While I felt bad for going against my husband’s wishes, I relished my newfound sense of determination and independence, causing me to smile inwardly as I shifted gears in the midst of downtown traffic. 

It was a wintery morning when I received my driver’s license, and I was elated beyond words as I caressed the grainy hard cover. Eager to prove my credentials as a driver, I retrieved the keys to my husband’s rickety Ford pickup. Two minutes later, I was rattling down a winding rough road before joining interstate 40, Tennessee’s longest highway.  Turning South towards Memphis, I lowered the windows and pressed my foot down on the accelerator. Cold air wheezed through the open windows and caused my air to sway wildly. John Denver’s “Country Roads” blasted from the car radio, making me feel like a rebellious teenager returning home after a night of partying.  As I neared Memphis, I caught a glimpse of a truck in the side mirror, with its headlights incessantly signaling me to stop. I checked the number plate and missed a heartbeat when I realized it was my husband’s truck. 

It was the scariest moment in my life as I imagined the ruckus Liam will cause after catching me red-handed defying his orders. A moment later, he was beside me, glaring down at me from his elevated truck cabin. I saw the mixture of shock and fury on his face, and knew that I was in big trouble.  Rather than wait for his admonition, I decided to prove to him that I was not a timid woman as he had come to believe. 

Gritting my teeth, I swerved to the far-right lane and pressed hard on the accelerator. The old Ford jerked forward like a meteor, and Liam responded by blaring his horns and coming after me. In his anger and agitated state, he had forgotten that it was winter and some sections of the highway were slippery.  I saw his truck sway as he tried to round a corner, causing him to lose control and hit a railing. The cabin jerked into the air and came down in a crushing thud as the luggage container slid off the truck bed and collided against the side banking. A few seconds later I braked into a stop and jumped out, and joined other motorists who had gathered around the crashed truck. “It seems he fainted, otherwise he is fine,” I heard one motorist say. Satisfied that he had learned his lesson, I walked away feeling proud of myself.