Questions of the heart

Does your heart have an owner over there?

That was the first question he chose to ask. And oh dear. It’s not just the answers that can be wrong. The same rule applies to questions. And that was very wrong. Indeed. Dreadfully wrong.

No one wants to be asked such personal questions in a job interview. It’s indiscreet. An invasion of privacy. A complete ignorance of the uniqueness of every human being. Of one’s motivations and purposes.

I didn’t realise in that first second that the interview was doomed. I still They could try to convince me to move back to my home country. They almost did. But then, there was this question that was so wrong.

Was the owner of my heart over here?

Asked to someone who left everything and everyone to come to a place to find a purpose. To find a living. And that person, that living was never related to the search for someone. Not for me at least. As a feminist, as a woman, I find extremely offensive when it is assumed that a purpose is to find someone to own my heart. That that would stop me from pursuing anything I’d really wanted. And even though I know that might be true for a lot people, it also isn’t for a lot of us. Being questioned like this by this man shown me straight away what kind of person he was.

But good things come from bad things, I guess. Because I found myself thinking about the answer to this question for the entire weekend.

Was the owner of my heart over here?

Yes. I guess it is. My heart is my own. It’s as simple as that.

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