The dream of a neoliberal woman is not to work. And not to get married or have children. The dream is to stay in bed all day, scrolling social media and ordering food from Doordash. There are several bestselling novels in Spain right now that express the deep hatred of neoliberal subjects towards work.
It’s funny how this plays out. Work, in the sense of a stable, reliable source of income, is retreating. And people are enacting the perennial game of every jilted lover who says, “well, I didn’t like you that much anyway.” They convince themselves that it’s their choice (that magical neoliberal word), that it’s better this way. It feels empowering (another neoliberal term). It feels like you are in control.