My Auntie once told me that modern women have no idea how lucky they are. I have to concede she is probably right. She was a young woman in the 1950’s and it was much of a different time. Little girls studied cookery and sewing at school whilst the boys did woodwork and electronics. I did all four subjects at school because thankfully we’ve come a long way since then. Women are no longer expected to only be good at cooking and sewing, devoted to their husbands- now women can be whatever they want- anything from a loving mother of three to the CEO of a massive corporation, and sometimes both simultaneously. Did you know the CEO of McDonald’s in the UK is female? Women don’t have to get married, don’t have to have babies and don’t have to care even slightly if their net curtains are shiny white or not.
I find it weird that emphasis is still placed so heavily on gender. When I was younger, I would have described myself as “one of the lads”, secure in the knowledge that I could drink you under the table and beat you in an arm wrestle. But it isn’t the 1990’s anymore and that hideous “ladette” term isn’t bandied around. Since meeting a lot more women and men, my world has increased and I realise that most women and men span both sides of gender comfortably.
Using myself as a primary example, I grew up with my two brothers and was very close to my Dad. My Mum is not a “feminine” woman. She doesn’t wear make up, she doesn’t read chick lit and she couldn’t give a flying hoot about clothes. I spent my younger years making mud pies, wrestling my brothers, riding my bike and digging up worms in the compost heap. But I also studied ballet, plaited my hair and occasionally wore lipstick, courtesy of a Polly Pocket make up kit I got one Christmas. I am not nor will I ever be a “girly girl”- as an example when I worked in a Solicitors office a misguided pigeon flew into the sash window and decapitated itself. Our male receptionist was almost crying with horror whilst I picked up the poor little thing with my bare hands and dumped it in the bin. I’m not overly scared of spiders, I rather like snakes and I do know a tiny bit about mechanics. On the other hand, I am a sucker for kittens, puppies and flowers and I can’t watch anyone cry- it will immediately set me off. I used to think I was somehow special but upon meeting most women, they are exactly the same. One girl I used to work with spoke with a gentle lisping voice and wore clothes the colour of old Wedgwood china, but during a night out she drank her own bodyweight in beer and belched so loudly I think they heard her in China. One of my friends is a beautician, is in love with the colour pink and has nails so long I often wonder with watery eyes what on earth she does if she has an itch in a sensitive place, but she uses the “C” word more freely than I do and would attempt to fight and kill anything up to a 26 stone truck driver. I have male friends who present themselves to the world as they wish to be seen, “I’m a beer drinking, truck driving, fighting and loving machine” but behind closed doors they tell me how much they want to get married and don’t I think babies are beautiful? Even my other half, who is about as manly as they come uses moisturiser and talks to our pets in a baby voice. The lines between us are blurred significantly.
I have never, ever met two women who are exactly the same. I have never, ever met two men who are exactly the same. I don’t like to stereotype if I can possibly help it and I have walked away from conversations where an upset friend will look up from her fifteenth wine, waving her cigarette around like a weapon shouting “Men! They’re all the same, aren’t they?” Well no. No they’re not. At the job I have just left, an older male manager may well have had the word “misogynist” tattooed on his forehead. He referred to women as “birds” and I told him if he ever called me “babe” again I’d give him a do-it-yourself vasectomy with a butter knife. From then on he referred to me by a very cruel name but at least he learnt his lesson. He drunkenly apologised at a Christmas party, which I would have gladly accepted had he addressed the apology to my face and not my chest.
Having made a few unflattering remarks about men as above, let’s be honest and say that women can be awful at times. If I walk into a new job and see nothing but desks full of women, I want to curl up and cry. No- not all women are like this but in general terms, stick a bunch of women together and it’s like a snake pit. Women can be so vile about other women- particularly behind their backs. For some reason we feel we have the right to make horrible remarks about weight, breast size, hair colour and goodness knows what else. Some women will say to your face with honesty “Oh, you look beautiful today”, and then the second you leave the room remark to Claire from Accounts that you look like a sack of potatoes in a bin liner. Nasty, evil creatures- at times.
I’ve never been one for “celebrating” my gender. Yes, I am a woman. I know this for a biological fact- but that’s all it is, biology. I didn’t do anything to become one, I was born female and I’ll die female. I don’t know why some women feel the need to make a huge deal out of the fact that they are female- I actually feel that when you say things like “I’m Head of Finance for a global corporation- and I’m a woman”, all you actually do is remark upon the fact that you think it’s amazing you got to where you are despite being female. It shouldn’t make one iota of difference. I know that equal pay hasn’t yet happened and equality doesn’t yet exist, but still, if you make a huge deal out of what you do and then remark “and I have breasts” all you’re really doing is showing that you yourself think it’s unusual. It shouldn’t be.
One of my biggest difficulties with women and how I interact with them is my sense of humour. I have a disgusting sense of humour and as far as I am concerned no subject is off-limits. This has caused friction between me and other women many a time. I should explain that for me, humour is a coping mechanism. I’ve worked with or spoken to a lot of Social Workers, Fire-fighters, Police Officers and Paramedics- and humour is the only way they can cope with the horror they see on a daily basis. If you don’t make a joke out of what you deal with, you’d sit in a corner and just bawl your eyes out. It might seem awful to an outsider, but it doesn’t mean you care any less or give any less of yourself to your job; it’s just the way of dealing with it. My sense of humour runs along these lines and can make me difficult for women to deal with. I can’t change this and most women do accept it, but my best male friend did tell me he sometimes has to remind himself he’s speaking to a girl, it’s that easy to forget. I was actually rather flattered by this remark, which is good as if I wasn’t I’d have pinned him down and farted on his head. Growing up with two brothers wasn’t always easy and I learnt a few tricks. That’s another thing- flatulence is funny, something most women don’t seem to really get.
I do have to say I think I mortally offended someone I know by referring to myself as “the only female misogynist”. I say this as a joke of course, and I mean it in the terms that I cannot stand it when people assume I cry at girly films (I don’t watch them) love to shop (I loathe shopping, it makes me mad beyond belief) own a wardrobe full of shoes (incorrect. I merely alternate between brothel creepers, trainers and massive steel toe capped boots) are obsessed with make up (yes, I like it, but I’m not obsessed) and wouldn’t go near a spider (ever seen a spider come up against a steel toe capped boot? Precisely.) In the same vein, it simply isn’t fair to assume that all male thought patterns are just “breasts-football-beer” over and over again. It just isn’t true.
I won’t be forced to wear my femininity as some kind of badge. I won’t be shamed for being female either. I would never ask a man to do the same thing for being male. I will laugh if a male friend replies to a text message “Shouldn’t you be ironing?” That is funny and I won’t reply with a feminist rant. I will laugh if a female friend tells her husband “Would you pay more attention to me if I sat watching television topless?” That is also funny and I wouldn’t expect any man to be upset by that comment. If only some women could stop taking themselves so seriously and learn to relax a little, we’d probably have fewer problems. “Feminism” isn’t a dirty word but some women I know are in danger of making it so. Relax and enjoy it a little, and it doesn’t really matter, they’re only men and they wouldn’t understand. Ha-ha.
