Since becoming first lady of Iceland in August 2016, I’ve had the chance to wrestle with the contradictions that come with this unofficial, undefined role. It provides me with an opportunity to share my voice and bring attention to issues I believe are important, to meet inspirational people and to enjoy unforgettable experiences around the world, and I enjoy it almost every day. Yet even in progressive Iceland, and certainly abroad, there are lingering and dated assumptions about what I should be doing and how I should be acting that are at best disconcerting and at worst, downright abhorrent to my feminist nature.

In short, being a first lady, even in 2019, remains very, very peculiar.

On the one hand, to serve my adopted country in this way is a privilege and an honor for which I am very grateful. Moreover, it is an opportunity: Day to day, when choosing those activities in which I wish to take part, I am guided by preconceptions of my role as spouse and how I wish to modernize them. I delivered a keynote address at this year’s StartUp Iceland conference, for instance — but declined to be involved in the process of redecorating the presidential residence’s main reception area.

On state visits, which are scheduled to the minute around the dictums of protocol and bilateral priorities, for example, one of my aims is to confound the often gendered expectations of what “the wife” should do: During what is usually called the “spouse program,” I deliver speeches that I write myself, or I participate in panels about issues in which Iceland can showcase its strengths — sustainable tourism, entrepreneurship and innovation, and yes, gender equality.

Yet I still resent the occasions when my presence is assumed rather than requested. I am not my husband’s handbag, to be snatched as he runs out the door and displayed silently by his side during public appearances. (Of course, he doesn’t even have a handbag; he has proper pockets in his clothes that discreetly store everything he will need. But that’s another discussion.)

And it’s uncomfortable to have strangers tell me I now look much nicer with my hair longer, that I should more often wear blazers that flatter my figure or that I should not wear green again because it’s not my color. On virtually every solo trip I make as first lady, I am asked who is looking after our four young children, as if their devoted father has no parental obligations. If I am ever asked about my professional background, it is always in the past tense, although I still continue much of my paid work. (Why should I get a new job because my husband was elected to one?)