They said I was "someone else's daughter" - I had good grades, had a decent job, and behaved well; they said I would be a "good daughter-in-law" - gentle and sensible, and I could live in an IKEA home.
It wasn't until I actually entered marriage that I realized that all the praises were weaving a golden cage.
My mother-in-law said with a smile at the wedding, "I will leave the house to you from now on." The guests praised her as a good blessing. During the honeymoon, my husband's cell phone kept ringing: "Does her cooking taste good?" "When are you going to have a baby?"
In the delivery room, I heard the doctor asking whether it was baby or baby, and I heard my mother-in-law choose without hesitation. Everyone was laughing when my daughter was born, only I knew something was dead forever.
Why was the same me cherished as a daughter, but judged in every possible way as a daughter-in-law? Why did my body, time, and dreams become the family's public resources overnight?
Until my best friend said: "We are all in a cage, but some people pretended not to see the fence."
I started counting the golden threads on my body called "For your own good" and "Woman" - this time, I wanted to do something that would "disappoint" everyone:
Learn to be just a person again, not someone's "good wife".
