a feminist farmer
Maybe I became a surgeon because the glass ceiling for a daughter to take over the family farm was too impenetrable, at least in the eyes of my parents, at least around the time I was coming of age.
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Though I left the farm a long time ago, of course the farm will never leave me. I love the smells of diesel on denim, ripe tomatoes on the vine, and corn pollinating in the late summer haze (though it does wreak havoc on my sinuses!).
It's no secret in my family that I left the farm both physically and ideologically, in many respects. However, I treasure the lessons I learned growing up in that small, insulated, and seemingly uncomplicated world.
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Growing pains are real, particularly when we depart with the ideology of our rearing. Sometimes we can get stuck, experiencing "identity foreclosure," in which we pursue the identity that is expected of us, without considering whether it is truly what we want.
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If you need help reconciling where you are coming from with where you want to go, I hope to hear from you.
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Sincerely,
Jill
Photoshoot with chickens, shortly after my childhood friend Amy gave me a fashionable, new haircut. She did not get in trouble for cutting my hair, but she did get in trouble for lying about it . . .
Teaching my nephews about farm life. Photo: ​© Jill Clark MD and David Clark
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