I had had roommates and I had lived on my own; I’d been on several forms of birth control and navigated a few serious medical questions; I’d paid my own bills and failed to pay my own bills; I’d fallen in love and fallen out of love and spent five consecutive years with nary a fling.
I’d learned my way around new neighborhoods, felt scared and felt completely at home; I’d been heartbroken, afraid, jubilant, and bored. I’d become that person not in the company of any one man, but alongside my friends, my family, my city, my work, and, simply, by myself. In 2009, the proportion of American women who were married dropped below 50 percent.
For women under 30, the likelihood of being married has become astonishingly small: Today, only around 20 percent of Americans ages 18–29 are wed, compared to nearly 60 percent in 1960 It is a radical upheaval, a national reckoning with massive social and political implications.
Across classes, and races, we are seeing a wholesale revision of what female life might entail.