Despite promises I made to my über liberal, feminist college self, it happened. In fact it happened pretty early, like in my late 20s after Rob and I had been in our first house for a year or so. Yes, despite vows to never allow it to happen, Rob and I have happily settled into stereotypical gender roles in our marriage. I cook and do dishes while he cleans gutters and mows the lawn. Last week we had some work done in our kitchen. Without thinking about it, we obediently fell right into our gender-assigned roles. Cool thing is, it worked out really well.
Last Wednesday, we had some new countertops installed. They are truly lovely things, all smooth and shiny and groutless and chip-free. Ceramic white tile, RIP!!! The installers were here for a full day, leaving behind lots of plumbing and gas lines that needed to be hooked up. Rob spent good chunks of both Thursday and Friday making occasional clanking noises with wrenches and clamps and gaskets and valves and stuff. He made the three requisite trips to the hardware store for additional/replacement/exchanged parts. He listened to sports talk radio and pulled up his pants when he crawled out from under the sink. He was a Man doing Manly things.
Meanwhile, I toured most of the county acquiring vital items such as a new rug, coordinating hand towels, chrome sponge holders, cream and turquoise placemats, a dark brown flower pot for the plant I’ve managed to keep alive for 2 years (!!), and the perfect red fruit bowl. I carried coupons and regularly reapplied Chapstick. I was a Woman doing Womanly things.
With Rob assembling and me accessorizing, we had our “new” kitchen in snazzy working order by Saturday. Rob was understandably relieved and pleased that no water came spraying out between joints when he turned the water back on. I was understandably relieved and pleased that the placemats didn’t clash with the flowerpot. And we are both relieved and pleased that we each seem to like different parts of keeping a household going, even if it's not how Gloria Steinem would have it.
3 comments:
Feminism is about choices - sounds like you've chosen to pursue interests that's right for you. And feminism is also about being valued - as long as chosing the perfect red fruit bowl is understood to be as vaulable as making clanking noises with gaskets, even Gloria would be proud. At least that's what I got out of that Intro to Feminism class I took.
-Zeke
You were more highly evolved in college than I was! What I got out of that experience was that feminism was about making the RIGHT and PROPER choices -- you know, the ones that women like Gloria fought so hard for me to be able to make. To me, it felt like there was a whole big political correctness about what choices were acceptable. Honestly, I wonder if that's where some of the working mom/stay-at-home mom struggles and tensions come from -- a difference in defining what it means as a woman to be equal.
Yeah, I do remember a tyrannical wing of the Feminism Dept. at college; the more broad-minded (ha! "broad" minded!) History Dept. was a little more diplomatic about women's roles, etc., now that I think about it.
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