Op-Ed: I'll Never Let My Father Marry Me To A Stranger In Exchange For A Goat, Because I'm Worth At Least Two Cows

For too long, the institution of marriage has treated women as property. In the old days, women were handed off from father to husband in exchange for a dowry like some absurdist transaction. This problematic mentality still exists today. I for one have had enough and refuse to be “sold” to anyone. I would never let my father give me away to a stranger in exchange for a goat because I am worth at least two cows.

It’s hard to express how insulting it is to have your worth be reduced to an amount of money, or worse—livestock. Especially if that livestock is a single measly goat. I’m an empowered, intelligent woman! I have two master's degrees! Each of those should be worth at least a larger, more desirable farm animal.

Despite being in the twenty-first century, it feels like we still have to put up with the same outdated, patriarchal mindsets. I’m tired of guys trying to go through my father to get with me. I don’t need his permission. I’m even more tired of guys who think they can persuade my dad with one lousy goat. Either ask me out directly or offer my family two of your fattest, juiciest cattle. Don’t be a cheapskate on top of being a chauvinist pig. Hell, a pig would be a much better offering than a goat.

Women these days are expected to settle for less than what they’re worth. We’re expected to be grateful that some loser showed up with the creepiest of the farm animals. Have you ever looked a goat in the eyes? It's incredibly unsettling. I am taking a stand once and for all. Goats eat trash, their milk tastes awful, and like many of the men who’ve sought my hand, they’re known for their bad facial hair. No woman should have to feel equal to this demonic, hooven creature.

When I envision a truly equal romantic relationship, I think of a guy who is okay with me being independent, who respects my bodily autonomy, and who is willing to go to the market and purchase two of the biggest, milkiest cows up for auction. No gaunt, sickly-looking ones! No calves! Not one dumb cow. Two grass-fed, free-range, thicc-as-hell cows to bestow upon my family for the honor of my hand. Nothing less. 

So to my prospective suitors: treat me how I deserve to be treated! If you must attempt to barter for my company with domesticated animals, they better be able to make enough milk for my entire extended family and sustain them with 48-50 juicy ribeyes in the event of a famine. If you can’t see yourself doing this for a woman, you’re simply not ready to be in a modern relationship. Because so help me god if you show up with a goat…