Out_of_the_frying_pan

 Beth Grossman.

"Seven frying pans are hung from men’s belts. Text
from The Total Woman, written by Marabel Morgan in 1970 as a response
to the feminist movement, is sandblasted into round mirrors stuck in
the pan. As viewers read the text, they will see themselves in the
mirrors. I ask them to take a look at how much has changed and improved
as a result of feminism, and to consider how much remains the same
within the male/female relationship.

Text in frying pans:

“The days were sunny, the nights were star-studded.
Indeed married life was strawberries for breakfast and loving all the
time.”
— Marabel Morgan

“Many a husband rushes off to work, leaving his wife
slumped over a cup of coffee in her grubbie undies. His once sexy bride
is now wrapped in rollers and smells like bacon and eggs. All day long
he’s surrounded at the office by dazzling secretaries who emit clouds
of perfume.”
— Marabel Morgan

“The typical American housewife begins each day with
every good intention. As soon as her husband and kids are out the door,
she nobly faces the disaster areas.”
— Marabel Morgan

“She may whine, play the martyr, or escape with her box
of bonbons to her favorite soap opera. When the kids come home at three
o’clock, she screams at them because she’s mad at herself.”
— Marabel Morgan

“The woman who would never think of serving the same
frozen TV dinners every evening sometimes serves the same frozen sexual
response every night.”
— Dr. David Reuben

“Would he pick you for his mistress? A mistress seduces. A housefrau submits. We all know who gets the most goodies.”
— Lois Bird

“It’s only when a woman surrenders her life to her
husband, reveres and worships him and is willing to serve him, that she
becomes really beautiful to him. She becomes a priceless jewel, the
glory of femininity, his queen!”
— Marabel Morgan:

Sad, true, and  provocative: in this piece and the rest of her stunning exhibition, Beth Grossman contributes to a debate that looks set to rage on eternally.

Would it to be too awful to admit that I still don’t know where I stand?

That my views, political or otherwise, remain unformed? And that worse than that, I do not find my ignorance appalling, but simply hope that it will act as a sponge for all I am willing to try to comprehend.