Androgyny vs. Equality: Maintaining Machismo in the Kitchen
| September 26, 2011 | Filled under Androgyny vs. Equality, Brazen Politics |
Once upon a time, I made the mistake of asking my not-yet husband to help more in the kitchen.
These things can happen when you’re young and naive, an idealistic feminist, and under the impression that all tasks can be equally divided between men and women.
Back then, I thought I was scoring one for the home team. Why should I be responsible for all these household tasks? I work too! Why am I the only one that recognizes grocery shopping involves ingredients and not just yogurts and Pringles? I was certain that exposing my man to the bigger picture of meal preparation would not only foster greater appreciation for my efforts, but create a more balanced division of labor between our gender differences.
The experiment lasted all but two days. On the first day, he purchased approximately seventeen pounds of beef and pork which subsequently spread various strains of E. coli around our kitchen until, four hours later, he had finished deep frying enough sausage patties to cater Oktoberfest.
On the second day, I came home late from work to a man in the apron huffing and puffing in the kitchen because the pork chops had dried out in the oven while everyone was waiting on me. Then he forgot the potatoes and when I said it was no big deal he replied: “Fine.”
No really. He said that. And then I knew I was in trouble because the “fine” response is a) reserved solely for the very pissed off woman and b) in 98% of all uses, a precursor to violent sobbing. The kind that has you heaving and sucking snot back in your nose and looking like a mascara-attacked raccoon devouring a pint of Haagen Dazs in front of Sleepless in Seattle.
That was the beginning of my awakening to a reality that years of college lesbianism had blinded me from: Men and women are different. And it’s okay.
Since then, I have made an effort to recognize some simple truths about the man in my life. There are things he is really good at. Boy stuff. Throwing laundry on the floor. Picking up heavy things. Bringing home the bacon. Buying Haagen Dazs as a reflex to hearing me say “fine.” And protecting our family from modern day predators (the tax man, the health insurance scams, bounced checks, gardeners named Jose who insist on working with their shirts off). And he is really good at these things. He has millions of years of evolutionary development and hormone balancing to make him good at these things.
Asking him to do things that are out of gender character results in two things: 1. He might suck at it and I have to do it “right” again later and 2. I turn into a cranky ho because my man doesn’t notice that the pillow cases don’t match.
And he might, as an adaptation tool, become metrosexual. Or, lord have mercy, an interior decorator.
I believe that by requiring people to do things that are not in their nature, we essentially are reconfirming their failings on a regular basis. I am not talking about chronic laziness (I swear to cookies, Husband, if you quote me on laundry not being “in your nature” you’ll be doing yours for a year). I’m talking about emasculating men by requiring them to be more like women, or degrading them by complaining when they fail. I don’t often hear men asking us to be stronger or more callous or fall asleep after orgasms. So why do we expect them to use lotion and enjoy” Bridges of Madison County”?
I’ve stopped asking my husband to cook dinner. He’s responsible for it once a week and usually it means take out or a suggestion to find a corn dog stand in a nearby neighborhood. Sometimes the Neanderthal in him comes out and he again purchases what appears to be the entire livestock of a Texas ranch and systematically cooks it on the grill while grunting, breathing in smoke, and doing a modern day version of a fire dance. Usually to AC/DC. Sometimes he even identifies, chops, and combines vegetables in something resembling a salad. On these days, I love him for his efforts, and remind him that he has to take the apron off after cooking.
love it
Word. Your husband is adorable, btw.
Are you sure you are German? Because you sound very Latina to me!!
I am American! Is that a sort of mix between Latina and German? Like I can dance but I sometimes show up on time.