What used to feel as natural as breathing is now a laboured, unnatural undertaking. I am the emotional equivalent of an emphysemic TB patient, and possibly a sociopathic one at that. I worry I may soon kill, and not care. Go to prison, and not care. Stab or get stabbed in prison, and not care. “M”-I will think as I bleed out on the unforgiving cell or cafeteria floor-“eh”.
She was starting a club, she explained, to put the world on notice about how little she and any woman in her situation did not care about anything any more. She called it The We Do Not Care Club, and her first announcement was that we do not care if we are wearing the wrong bra to the supermarket. Anyone who understood and felt the same was welcome to become a member. I joined immediately.
In absolute contradiction of my life hitherto, I was an early adopter. Soon afterwards, Melani’s invitation went viral. Women of a certain age left comments and Melani began reading out a selection (called “announcements”) every day, a handwritten “WDNC Club” sign paperclipped to her top, at least two sets of reading glasses about her person in case she loses one, and with a dead-eyed stare and firm tone that brooks no riposte.
“We do not care if there is a light on in the car. Does the car start? Does the car move? Well then.” “We do not care if you’re cold. Don’t touch that A/C.” “We do not care if it’s 5pm. We are drinking coffee or we are drinking wine. One of the two.” “We do not care about paying delivery fees. Please bring it to my door. I don’t want to talk to nobody.” “We do not care about small talk. Just shut up and don’t say anything to me.” “We do not care if the house is clean when you come over. Also – don’t come over.”It occurred to me, however, that this is a club that needs a chapter for every decade of a woman’s life, possibly even beginning in girlhood.
0-10s: “We do not care that you think we should play with dolls.” 10-20: “We do not care that you think maths is for boys/that we should have sex with you in all the ways you’ve seen on your favourite porn sites. 20-30: “We do not care that you don’t understand the need for a 50/50 split on all bills, domestic chores and emotional labour that goes on in this supposedly shared home. Also, your mother’s not coming over.” 30-40: “Same as 20-30 but more vehemently because now we have children. And your mother is still most definitely not coming over.” square MILLY JOHNSON The menopause isn't a superpower - only one thing helped me
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Because what we need is a lifetime’s change. A movement to counteract, and in time eradicate, the idea that it is women’s job to do the caring of all kinds. To do the empathising, the remembering, the smoothing of social interactions, the making nice, and far more of the ironing, childrearing, cat litter changing than they should because that kind of thing “just comes naturally” to us. While men come home from work and purport still not to know where the scissors are or which basic ingredients can be deployed in which combination to form an edible meal for a family.
Because what becomes increasingly clear to me as I watch Melani’s announcements, drawn from what is now a million followers from countries around the world, is that as much as menopause and perimenopause are hormonal events (we have the weight gain, the burning flesh and bones – I’m on fire from the inside and wish to tear my own limbs off – and increasing hirsuteness to prove it) a very large proportion of other symptoms can be attributed to something else.
No one can keep it up forever, though anti-depressants have possibly prolonged our endurance. But eventually something has to give. Often in the car park of a supermarket, when you are alone with your family shop but no family helping, and your thoughts.
I do not care if this makes me sound like a mad old crone. I care that I’m right.
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