I Refilled the Soap Dispenser and Felt More Like Staff Than a Person

Dear Delyara, The soap had run out in the bathroom. I unscrewed the top, filled it, wiped the drips, put it back, and suddenly felt this sharp internal resistance that had nothing to do with soap and everything to do with the strange unpaid maintenance role women can end up living inside for years. Refill, replace, restock, remember, anticipate, prevent. The invisible infrastructure of family life. Nobody asks for applause. That isn’t really the point. The point is that after enough years, a woman can start feeling like the emotional and practical operations department of the house while still being expected to present as wife, mother, calm adult, soft place to land. I refilled the soap and went back downstairs. But something in me stayed irritated for much longer than the dispenser deserved.