What’s Mine Is Yours

Even online, you can’t hide your age.

Every once in a while I will receive a single email from two people. Inbox – “Donald and Barbara West.” And I know already you’re my grandparents’ age. It’s carried over to the digital – this 1950s notion of title, connection. Blur the lines and throw on an apron, because with a better half you’ll never be solely whole again.

No modern woman would be caught dead losing ground like this. The mentality of combining identities along with bank accounts has long since become stigmatized – today we are women on a mission, with our own things and our own names on our own two feet, ready to separate into two what we’ve be socialized to know has a 50% chance of not lasting.

But in the purest form of “what’s mine is yours,” even for all its masogonistic undertones, there’s something about it I find endearing.

An email from one, on behalf of two says we are together in this, for everything.