My mother never made me do anything for my brothers, like serve them. I think that’s an important lesson, especially for the Latino culture, because the women are expected to be the ones that serve and cook and whatever. Not in our family. Everybody was equal.
It seems to me in the past it’s been a good thing, as a writer, to have experiences I hadn’t expected.
Why is it the philosopher who is expected to be easier and not some scientist who is even more inaccessible?
I never expected anyone to take care of me, but in my wildest dreams and juvenile yearnings, I wanted the house with the picket fence from June Allyson movies. I knew that was yearning like one yearns to fly.
Most Americans aren’t the sort of citizens the Founding Fathers expected; they are contented serfs. Far from being active critics of government, they assume that its might makes it right.
In a home where there is an able-bodied husband, he is expected to be the breadwinner.
I expected to be shot at any moment and if they had done I would have understood, that they couldn’t take risks with someone foolhardy or so unpredictable.
I came from a family where joining a union was the expected thing to do. I’ve always believed that the relationship between an employer and an individual worker is fundamentally unequal.
I was expected to sit at the table, learn how to eat properly.