I’m a self proclaimed feminist. I believe in equal everything for men and women. So I was taken aback when my husband picked up our laundry today and I felt…guilty.
The women at the laundromat we take our clothes to are fantastic and they take great care and pride in what they do. It still amazes me I can send our clothes out to be washed one day, and have them all returned the next day- washed, perfectly folded and sectioned off with shirts, pants, towels, sheets, socks and underwear grouped together. Amazing.
But as I put my brassieres away this evening, I reflect back on my childhood. This may seem foreign to most but I devoted hours of my life completing the obligatory hand washing and hanging of my undergarments after each bath. The handling of our underwear was a personal responsibility and I hated the task. I guess I should be grateful I got to hang them to dry in the bathroom and not on a line out back for the neighbors to see.
I’ve had a defiant feminist streak running through me since birth. I boldly challenged boys to races and Spelling Bee’s alike. I went through a phase where I refused to wear skirts or dresses. If it wasn’t for my mom instilling the fear of God in me, I probably would have never worn a bra in the first place. Every now and again I’d look at those bras with contempt and throw them right in the washing machine rather than wash them myself (then pray Mom wouldn’t see them). Such a rebel, I know.
Having an athletic type figure, I was always an A/B cup. A little too big not to wear a bra but still too small to fill any of them up. Most days I wished I could burn them like the warriors of the ’60’s. I owe my current sized double-B girls to a 10lb weight gain this past year. A few more cupcakes and I may have a shot at the C-cup. Yippee! Always a silver lining.
So had I broken a cardinal childhood rule surrounding underwear handling? This was an activity engaged in the privacy of your own bathroom. Yet here I was having my unmentionables washed every week in plain view of 100’s of people, by people I’d never met.
Maybe this isn’t about undergarments at all? What really bothered me was what bras represented to this tomboy- a form of oppression. Bras highlighted the different expectations for boys and girls based on gender alone.
That resentment hasn’t totally gone away. My son has endured long lectures on “girl power”. My husband has to hear me bitch every time I shave my legs. And I often complain about the extra time it takes to put on make-up and the discomfort of high heels. He knows me well enough to keep comments gender neutral and instead throws out a “So don’t wear any” in rebellious solidarity. But in spite of all of this complaining, I still give in to the social norms. Hmm.
That nagging voice fighting for equality still rises up every time I grab a Swiffer, wash a dish, pick up a sock, order groceries or do a Target run. I can’t help but internally ask “Why should I be the one to..?”. Don’t get me wrong my husband is amazing in many ways but the majority of the housekeeping responsibilities lie with me. He hired a cleaning person to help keep the house tidy and lighten my load. And though I was incredibly grateful, it took me two years to get used to it.
So while on one hand I’m advocating for equal everything, on the other I’m still affected by norms of my childhood. Even when Mom began working outside of the home, she was always homemaker first. I can’t help but hear “Do your own laundry!” in my head. Mom took great pride in her spotless home and delicious meals. Shouldn’t I be like her? And if I’m not, does it mean I’m somehow “less than”?
Some days I wonder whether our society is really ready for equal anything. The Latino culture for example is quick to celebrate the “hour-glassed, big hips, J-Lo everything” qualities but still much slower to celebrate intelligence, business savvy or speaking up. What message does this send to my 7 year old niece?
I know what some will say. “You have a choice to shun the gender stereotypes”. And yes, I can choose to stop shaving, wearing make-up, dresses and high heels (I think my hubby is starting to hyperventilate). But the truth is I’m still influenced by societal norms and expectations. I’ve yet to find the balance, the “BLEND” that works for me.
I know we’ve come a long way but why does “old school” thinking continue to permeate so many areas of society and influence how gender roles are defined? The next logical question is then- What can we do about it?
Well, all of us, men and women, play a role. Though some will take on a more active role than others, ideally we should all embrace the platform for equality. Whether it’s a family dinner discussion or attending a public rally, we must keep this conversation alive. Personally calling out injustices or empowering someone to speak up for themselves, may be the best way to show support.
I recognize there are many women, many people, who are unable to outwardly express their discontent and frustrations with gender inequality. To them I say, we are with you. We will be your voice.
I’m proud to be a Feminist. I’m proud to be an advocate of equality for all.
