William Golding was a famous British novelist and poet (he wrote Lord Of The Flies) and an early advocate for Women’s  Rights. I  have a bone to pick with him.

Golding died in 1993.

His famous manifesto about the superiority of women is well-known and still much quoted,  shared, and discussed.

I related to his last couple of lines: “She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit!”

A friend sent me Golding’s piece regarding women today, and it got me thinking about it, and I wanted to share what I thought about it.

In one sense, I admired the idea that women are superior to men. But when I thought about it, I thought it was pandering, patronizing and weak.

I thought it didn’t fit into how I look at Maria and other women, perhaps because it was written long ago when women’s lives could only be considered and written about in terms of their domestic skills.

At the time of Golding’s fame, women were unquestionably superior to men because men didn’t do any household work, and women were not allowed to do much else.

Women were expected, legally and morally, to be subservient to men.

I think women are superior to men in many ways – generally less violent, less dominant, less prone to angry posturing, more compassionate, and more willing to share and listen.

I can’t speak for all men or all women; I can only consider Golding in the context of the woman I live with and the question of her superiority to me or most men.

In my mind, Maria is superior to everyone I know, regardless of gender.  But I don’t see her as superior to me if that makes any sense. Our relationship is not a competition that can be measured in any way I know of.

That’s just a personal feeling about us. I don’t see a lot of other women or know them as well.

And yes, if I give Maria any crap, I do get a bunch of shit. I respect her temper and independence as much as her generosity of spirit.

The beauty of our relationship to me is not about one being or feeling superior to the other but about our being equal in almost every measurable way.

I greatly respect Maria’s work and her courage, innovation, creativity, resilience, and growing confidence.

Seeing her courageous emergence from the life of a frightened and closed-off trauma victim into the strong and accomplished person she is today, a gifted and successful artist, a wonderful friend, and a partner is one of the most inspiring and impressive things I’ve seen.

I love her, but more than that, I admire her.

I don’t know if that makes her superior to me or anyone else; I see it as admirable and remarkable.

In our relationship, we share everything but our work – chores, dishes, shopping, comforting one another, and bouncing back from struggle, fear, and disappointment.

And encouragement. We always encourage each other.

We both take pictures; we are both writers and artists in different ways,  we love our animals, and we are both creatives sharing that glorious but unpredictable and often frightening life.

We are out on a limb together, sacrificing security for our passion for work and impulse to do good and live a life of meaning.

There is no one I’d rather be walking this high-wire act with. She has taught me more than I can even list.

I don’t think one of us is superior to the other; we both work hard and are good at what we do.

Maria is good at everything except shopping and relaxing.

Neither one of us knows how to stand; still, we are both works in progress.

In a sense, I found Sir Golding condescending and sexist.

As a brilliant novelist, Golding might have been expected to imagine a broader, more prosperous, more accessible life for women (many men and women did) than giving men babies, cooking well, and offering their hearts to unhappy spouses.

Even before it was fashionable, I never saw Maria or any women I loved in so narrow a way. I always thought feminism could be the best thing that ever happened to me if they could only be open to it.

As it happens, Maria is not very domestic the way Golding describes and always sighs in relief when I do the shopping, which I almost always do.

And she is equally delighted when she can work longer hours while I’m cooking dinner. We share the cooking these days and quite often cook together.

We also have separate lives; we are never together as often as I would like. She has her own friends and work, and I have mine.

I appreciate Golding’s generosity of spirit but was uneasy about his lack of imagination or natural sense of justice.

Saying women are superior seems a bit cheap to me, it didn’t do much for them then and doesn’t do much for them now.

The question for me is how we live now and how we can support women now.

In Golding’s day, many enlightened people were fighting for women’s rights, like the right to vote and own property.

It wasn’t like the idea of equality was unknown.

What I love about the woman I love is what we share, not what she does better than me, even though that’s a long list.

I love that we are equal, that neither of us needs to be above the other, but rejoice instead in every bit of success each one of us can manage to find.