He invited me to stay with his parents, but I wont become their servant.
He asked me to move into the family house, yet I refuse to be the allpurpose maid for his clan.
My name is Élodie, twentysix years old. My husband, Julien, and I have been married for almost two years. We live in Lyon, in a snug little flat that I inherited from my grandmother. At first everything was fine: Julien liked living at my place, it suited him perfectly. Then, out of the blue, he announced, Its time we move into my family home; theres room, and when we have kids itll be ideal.
Im not willing to share that ideal under the same roof as his noisy family. I dont want to trade my home for a space ruled by patriarchy and blind obedience. There I would not be his wife but unpaid labor.
I still recall my first visit to their house. A large country home on the outskirts, about 300m². It housed his parents, his younger brother Théo, his wife Camille, and their three childrenthe whole package. The moment I stepped into the entrance, my role was assigned. Women to the kitchen, men in front of the TV. Before I could even unpack my suitcase, his mother handed me a knife and ordered, Slice the salad. No please, no when youre ready. Just a command.
During dinner I watched Camille scurrying everywhere, never daring to contradict her motherinlaw. Every remark was met with a guilty smile and a nod. It sent a chill through me. I knew instantly: that life wasnt for me. Im not a docile Camille, and I wont bend.
When we announced we were leaving, his mother shouted,
And whos going to wash the dishes?
I looked her straight in the eyes and replied,
The hosts clean up after the guests. Were guests, not employees.
Thats when things blew up. They called me ungrateful, insolent, a spoiled city girl. I listened calmly, thinking, this is a place where Ill never belong.
Julien stood by me that day. We left. For six months everything was quiet. He saw his family without me, and I managed. Then he started bringing up the move againfirst in hints, then with growing insistence.
There it is family, our home, he would say. Mom can help with the kids, youll get a break. Well rent out our flat, itll bring in income.
What about my job? I asked. Im not abandoning everything to be buried forty kilometres from Lyon. What would I do there?
You wont need to work, he shrugged. Youll have a child, youll take care of the house, like everyone else. A woman belongs at home.
That was the final straw. Im a graduate, with a career and ambitions. Im an editor, I love my profession, I built everything on my own. And they tell me my place is behind the stove and the diapers, in a house where Ill be yelled at for an unwashed pot and taught how to make soup or give birth properly?
I know Julien is a product of his environment. There, sons carry on the line and wives are outsiders who must stay silent and be grateful to be accepted. But Im not one to swallow that. I endured his mothers humiliations. I clenched my teeth when Théo laughed, Camille never complains! But enough is enough.
I said plainly,
Either we live apart, respectfully, or you go back to your family castle without me.
He took offense, accused me of tearing the family apart, told me a son doesnt live on foreign territory. I dont care. My apartment isnt foreign. My voice matters.
I dont want a divorce. But living with his clan? No way. If he wont abandon his idea of moving next to his mother, Ill pack my bag first. Being alone is better than being secondbest to his family.
He Invites Me to His Parents’ House, But I Refuse to Be Their Maid
