Still Trapped… Just with Direct Deposit: The Capitalist Scam No One Warned Us About

When we were girls, they told us we could be anything. Astronauts. CEOs. Moms in shoulder pads who somehow had time to make pot roast from scratch and never forgot to shave above the knee. We believed them—because we were adorable, hopeful idiots. 

What they didn’t mention? 

No one told the boys. 

No one told them we were coming for those corner offices. No one prepped them for collaboration, equity, or the idea that women might not want to be secretaries forever. They were still being handed the keys to the kingdom, while we were sold empowerment in the form of glitter pens and “girl boss” mugs. So now here we are, in our 40s and 50s, juggling spreadsheets, caregiving, and invisible labor, while Bob is still confused about why we want equal pay and a seat at the table. 

Now we know better. 

We’re not “free.” We’re just overworked, underpaid, and expected to smile through it. 

Welcome to Late Stage Capitalism, where freedom means choosing between high blood pressure or bankruptcy, and “having it all” means collapsing in your car outside Safeway, wondering if you have enough energy to go in and pretend dinner’s not just frozen waffles again. 

Let’s be real: We’re not sovereign. We’re just over it. 

We are the generation that got the pep talks and the shaft. We were told hard work pays off—turns out, it mostly pays off for our bosses’ bosses’ bosses (and their sons). We were promised loyalty mattered, only to be laid off by email. We learned the hard way that “work-life balance” is just a cute little term corporate uses while they suck your soul through a Teams meeting. 

And the stats don’t lie: 

● We still earn just 83 cents for every dollar our male counterparts do. Some of us have been working since the 90s and still haven’t seen that mythical “equal pay” unicorn. (BLS, 2025) 

● Only 29% of C-suite executives are women, which tracks—because every time we ask for a seat at the table, we’re handed the office party planning spreadsheet. (McKinsey, 2024) 

● And in case you thought we’d find our power through entrepreneurship? Think again. Women-owned firms making over $20 million a year? Just 2.4%. That’s not a crack in the ceiling—that’s a damn moat. (Business Insider, 2025)

But we have gratitude journals! So that fixes it, right? 

Let’s all be thankful for… what? PTO we can’t take? Jobs that ghost us after 25 years of loyalty? “Flexible work” that just means you get to cry in your living room instead of the office? 

No. I’m calling bullshit. 

We are not lazy. We are not ungrateful. We are not burned out because we lack resilience. We are exhausted because we’ve been exploited. For decades. 

We show up—hell, 78.1% of prime-age women were out there working in December 2024. (Eye on Housing, 2025) We’re doing all the things. And somehow, it’s still not enough. 

We’re saving less, retiring later, and getting crushed by AI, too. Experts are already predicting more women than men will lose their jobs to automation by 2030. Fabulous. Now even the robots are sexist. (AP News, 2025) 

The system isn’t broken. It’s functioning exactly as designed—to keep women like us just tired enough not to revolt. 

But guess what? We see it now. 

And seeing it? Naming it? Writing about it in rage-fueled late-night bursts while eating Hershey’s kisses from the bag? That’s the first step. 

The second step? 

Burn the handbook. Rewrite the rules. Stop apologizing. Demand better. 

We’re not asking for a seat at the table anymore—we’re dragging in our own damn chair, and it’s got wheels, lumbar support, and a flamethrower attachment. 

We are not here to be palatable. We are not here to make anyone comfortable. 

We are here to take up space, burn down outdated expectations, and build something better—for us, our daughters, and any poor bastard who thought we’d just smile and stay quiet. 

This isn’t burnout. 

It’s a rebellion. 

And we’re just getting started.