For years, every positive affirmation I got from women for keeping my maiden name in spite of societal pressure imbued me with a subtle blush of shame. I didn’t feel rebellious, I felt lazy. I worried I was acting as a false paragon for a principled stance I hadn’t actually thoughtfully cultivated. But with the recent public unmasking of the true extent of the gender imbalance in American society, I’ve begun to question whether my indifference was actually, in some small way, a feminist victory. Can boredom be a manifestation of progress?
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