The Glass Cage or How We No Body Ourselves and Others

I've long been haunted by the image of Cosette, in the film adaptation of Les Miserables, singing from her lavish bedroom about wanting to be free. Her life would have seemed charmed from the outside, especially by those in nineteenth-century France who struggled to stay alive, yet she envied the freedom of those outside her door. She couldn't, of course, know how hard the lives were of those whom she watched, and those she watched would have scoffed at the suggestion that they had it better than she did. I, however, keenly saw and felt her struggle. I've spent my life constructing a cage for myself, with bars built out of societal and familial expectations for women. But inside the cage, I simultaneously long to be free and am afraid to leave. In my desire to appear normal, to fit in, I have constrained myself out of fear of what will happen if I leave this cage. So I watch the world around me, and like Cosette, I wonder what it's like to live outside the walls I've carefully constructed to make it appear as if I'm embodying, or at least trying to, Western societal expectations for what it means to be a woman.