echoes, phantoms and expectations

Lately, I've been reading and thinking about gender roles/expectations.  I came across some interesting stuff last week... 

Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) was famous for writing,  and later on for speaking up on behalf of women. (and maybe for being a bit unstable...)  She expressed and embodied some of the struggle that was being experienced by the women (and men!) of her day.  Rather than telling you my interpretation of the tension she lived with, here are some of her memoir words, from a lecture in 1931.

'I discovered that ... I should need to do battle with a certain phantom.  And the phantom was a woman... I called her after the heroine of a famous poem,, 'The Angel in the House'.... you who come of a younger and happier generation may have not heard of her... I will describe her... She was intensely sympathetic.  She was immensely charming.  She was utterly unselfish.  She excelled in the difficult arts of family life.  She sacrificed herself daily.  If there was chicken, she took the leg; if there was draught she sat in it - in short she was so constituted that she never had a mind or a wish of her own, but preferred to sympathize always with the minds and wishes of others.  Above all - I need not say it - she was pure. Her purity was supposed to be her chief beauty, her blushes, her great grace.  ... every house had its Angel ... the shadow of her wings (falls) on my page, I (hear) the rustle of her skirts in the room... (she whispers to me) 'my dear, you are a young woman ... be sympathetic; be tender; flatter; deceive; use all the arts and wiles of our sex.  Never let anybody guess that you have a mind of your own.  Above all, be pure'.  ... I now record the one act for which I take some credit to myself ... I turned upon her and caught her by the throat.  I did my best to kill her.  My excuse, if I were to be had up in a court of law, would be that I acted in self defense.  Had I not killed her she would have killed me ... for, as I found, you cannot put pen to paper .. without having a mind of your own, without expressing what you think to be the truth about human relations, morality, sex.  And all these questions, according to the Angel in the House, cannot be dealt with freely and openly by women; they must charm, they must conciliate, they must .. tell lies if they are to succeed.  Thus, whenever I felt the shadow of her wing or the radiance of her halo upon my page, I took up the inkpot and flung it at her.  She died hard.  Her fictitious nature was of great assistance to her.  It is far harder to kill a phantom than a reality.  She was always creeping back when I thought I had despatched her.   - from Woolf's In the Death of the Moth and other Essays.  As quoted by Daniel Levinson in Seasons of a Woman's Life.

Even though we are living in a world that is very different from Woolf's 1931,   I find myself wondering why is Woolf's phantom description still familiar?