This is one of the questions I've been preparing to answer since I was about 12 years old. No date has ever asked me this, and I've offered this information openly to about everyone I know. Nobody has ever cared but... it affects me greatly. I feel this a real point of discussion! It's something that could come up!
The "American Frontier" or "Wild West" era ran from about 1607 until 1920. The men were men and the women were, too. I'd choose to land somewhere near the end of it, when technologies have advanced slightly and the rage Native Americans felt for us white devils had started to fade (at least the murderous rage; I really feel they're entitled to all the rage they want to feel towards my pale moon face). Maybe the mid-to late 1800's? The times of Annie Oakley? Eh, I'm sure that was still a super dangerous time. But, for whatever reason, the whole idea of embodying "true grit" really appeals to me. Not smiling in tin types, scrubbing my clothes angrily on a corrugated board, being so desperate for butter I develop arms like a Hungarian shot-putter It all get's my goat. In a good way. Ferociously delivering a baby in the middle of my one room cabin, wrapping her up and handing her to the eldest, and dragging my torn and bleeding butt back out to shoot peasants, sow seeds and stare off at the distant mountains. Conceivably, I could do all these things in my own backyard. Minus the shooting of small rodents with a 22 gauge rifle. But, with the promise of luxury and ease a mere phone call away, it'd be the call of the not-so-wild that pulled me away. I need complete isolation and inability to give up. I need to be faced with literal life or death daily, to pursue this lifestyle I allegedly want so intensely. I'm also aware these times were extremely difficult for women in particular. Sexism, abuse, denial of education, denial of employment, the list goes on. I also am not religious at all so I'm sure there would be a resurgence of witch burning just to do away with my atheist self. They'd call me the Witch of the West or the Prairie Heathen. I'd grow my hair long and whippy. I'd run around with my shirt wide open so my leathery breasts stood out in defiance. I'd breast feed my children into adult hood and no person would ever dare near me. Out of sheer confusion, fear and a dabble of respect.
But, let's be honest... I would last a couple years and HAVE to be helped by a man. Then I'd die in child birth and he'd feed my emaciated corpse to the hogs. Well... that's that.