RIDDLE ME THIS

Riddle me this. Riddle me that.

Let me share a riddle my sister told me today. Here it goes.

A man and his son went on a road trip. Along the way, they had an accident. It was so bad that the man died on the spot. The son was seriously injured and rushed to a hospital. When they got there, the moment the doctor saw him, the doctor said, "He is my son. I cannot operate on him."

Who is the doctor?


***

At first I was confused. Like, the father died on the spot, so what do you mean the boy is the doctor’s son?

Is the doctor a ghost? The boy’s father is obviously gone, so how is he related to the doctor?

That was when it hit me.

The doctor was a woman. The boy’s mother.

Why did I not see this truth sitting plainly in front of me?

Because of a stereotype that has unknowingly been sown into us. Be honest, when you hear the word Doctor, what picture comes to your mind?

Let me guess. A man in white scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, right?

You see how certain things are sold to us so gently that without knowing it, we start living out a script we did not write and did not consciously accept.

Dearest reader, this riddle made me think. Are our thoughts really ours? The way we feel about things, are they truly our feelings or stereotypes we have carried for years without question?

Sometimes I feel society has us in a box, and it takes questioning the very answers that roll easily from our tongue to know what is really our thought and what has been projected into us over time.

@favvy_Okwansđź–¤.

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