Guest post: It’s more than the messages you hear
Originally a comment by iknlast on Without having to go back.
It’s more than the media. It’s more than the messages you hear. The messages we get are all around us, often unnoticed in any real way, subtle.
My father refusing to teach me how to start the lawnmower. His paying for my brother’s college on terms that were much more generous than mine.
Being kept in the dining room on Christmas with the women while the men went into the living room and talked about interesting things. Being the last one served. Being asked to make the coffee at the meeting.
Many of the messages aren’t “girls wear nail polish” “girls wear high heels”. They are subtle; the people delivering them may not realize they are delivering them. The people receiving them may not realize they are receiving them.
It is in the way my major professor in my doctorate talked to me in a fatherly manner, like a pat on the head, while being good buddies with his male students.
It’s in the way my boss peed off the end of the boat the first time they took me out for training (marking his territory?). It’s in the way that another boss asked me, the person with the highest level of education in the entire business, to water the plants.
It’s the way that my current boss has looked at a building in which all but two of the employees are women – and appointed the two males as building captains. It’s in the way that my seniority is ignored at work, and everyone turns to the male who has been there half as long as I have when they want someone with authority (we have equal authority; I just rarely have the opportunity to use mine). These are messages that are often unseen, but have a huge impact.
Knowing that growing up and living in a sexist culture leaves its mark, I do try to audit my behavior. And most of the issues mentioned in this post are things I’ve avoided, as far as I am consciously able, with family and coworkers.
But the peeing off the boat thing… what’s the message there? Peeing off the back has always seemed acceptable, for men and women (standing or squatting as preferred). No need to pump the holding tank (or fill it up unnecessarily), no additional odors in the head. Just seems like there should be basic courtesy: a heads-up and no flashing from the pee-er, and from everyone else a resolute looking the opposite way.
StlSln – the peeing off the boat was a definate statement, Not only my boss, but his best buddy – ti was a literal pissing contest. And no, I was not going to drop my pants and pee off the boat, especially since it was 30 degrees out, They knew it. It was a very pointed act, done to demonstrate my inferiority. It was especially pointed since it followed immediately on the heels of a meeting where the females were in no uncertain terms made aware that we were to sit down and shut up, and make the coffee when the pot was empty. Oh, yes, I was an intern, so that’s why I had to “shut up and llisten” – but the male interns spoke, and their input was listened to and valued. Pissing off the boat was a literal marking of their territory.
Well shit, that puts a different perspective on it completely.
What sort of training involves pissing off the end of boats?
Bernard – I was being trained in wetland restoration. I presume the lake needed more urea? (Joke)
Staying in the dining room with the ladies while the men depart to talk about interesting things? Is this from 1815 or something? And how come they do it backwards?
I like the assumption that the women left to themselves won’t talk about interesting things, by the way, that it is unquestionably a disbenefit to have to sit with women.
Pinkee, perhaps this will amuse you (read to the end) — published in 1868, A manual of etiquette with hints on politeness and good breeding
[CHAPTER V.]
Forgot to add the alt-text, sorry. It was by “DAISY EYEBRIGHT” [Johnson, S. O. (Sophia Orne), d. 1887]
But sometimes also to drink deeply, I dare to hope, exactly as in the “barbarous age”? Hooray… and where is the library?
John, I don’t find that amusing, I am shocked that standards slipped so early. All rise together! I can only think this is an example of American informality and notorious disrespect for social values.
It must have discomfitting for the other library users when the cigar smokers all showed up, don’t you think Ariel? Surprising it was tolerated really.
This was not an assumption; it was based on my experience. The women had a set agenda that was expected, and we talked about (1) cooking; (2) babies; (3) clothes.
I do remember one occasion where the older women decided to talk about sex, and the messages their mothers had given them about sex and how horrible it was, and how that had not been their experience. It was a rare moment of honesty, and actually a fun conversation, but unfortunately, it lasted only 13 minutes, while the women were expected to stay away from the men for at least two hours. (Yes, that’s how bad it was; I actually know exactly how long this interesting and fun conversation lasted).
The most disgusting thing about it is that some of the women, for instance my grandmother, were very highly educated and could be very interesting when you sat down and just talked to them. But on these occasions, certain unstated rules of etiquette were to be observed, and we were only to talk about “women” things. (Thank goodness sex can be a woman thing; it gave me 13 minutes of bonding with the women in my life because they for once talked about something I was actually interested in).
And since throughout my life, my mother shut down any conversation that started to get mildly interesting to me with “talk about something everyone is interested in, or don’t talk”, meaning talk about something SHE is interested in (see 1-3 above), it was a difficult time for me at the best of times. Notice that it is assumed that everyone will be interested in the “women” things, while no one (but me) will be interested in the science/philosophy/politics/literature things. Either that, or I did not count as part of “everyone” (which I think is a lot of the case, since my mother thought I was some sort of grotesque mutant for being interested in “men” things).
Oh, and Pinkeen, this was the 1970s, not 1815. There was not as much difference as people thought there was between those two years from the standpoint of a woman, except that “woman’s work” had become easier when we no longer had to grow our own food, haul our own water, or cook over a wood stove. And we could wear pants while we worked in the kitchen.