It has always been a pet peeve of mine when people try to gender-classify everything. Although I participate for the sake of my friends, it goes against my nature to organize gatherings where the husbands go do a "guy thing" (read: fun outdoorsy thing) while the women gather for a "girly" detail-oriented activity. (sewing, cooking, etc.) Ok June Cleaver!
Maybe I just don�t get it because my dad took me to work with him every summer at his "masculine" career and I did the same work as his all male employees. Jackhammers? No problem. Bricklaying? You got it. Sprinkler system installation? I�m your man! Er, girl.
Maybe that's why I was just one of the guys in high school. I even borrowed their clothes. Granted, half of my male friends were gay, but that's beside the point.
So forgive me if I don�t get it when everyone heaves a sigh of relief when the guys leave the room because they�ve been hoarding up all their feelings and can only let loose with other females. Ridiculous! What are husbands for?
My closest friend is in her mid thirties and is still too embarrassed to openly discuss or acknowledge menstruation around her husband. How the fuck do you keep a secret like that??
Meanwhile, I'm sitting here using the sewing skills she taught me to make a 12 inch stuffed penis with ruched balls, next to my painting of a woman inserting a tampon, and posting a breast inspection diagram on the bulletin board in our shared art studio, all of which her husband has seen. Oops??
Somehow she thinks that my openness would make HB blush. So I asked HB if it made him uncomfortable or blushy, and he laughed and told me to tell her to calm down.
You see? I am only be permitted to be myself around a ...(drum roll)... MAN! Not because of who I am, but because of who my feminine-role-playing friends are. What a paradox.
Isn't segregation a little, oh... antiquated? And yet I still find myself feeling the same frustration I did when I was in the first grade and my school forced all the girls to wear skirts, yet punished us for twirling upside-down on the monkey bars. Even my six year old brain could deduce that teachers wouldn't have to punish girls with paddles if they would just let us wear pants. But, I guess that would take away the fun of sadomasochistic spanking of minors by perverted old men because that's what Jesus is into, apparently. Sick bastards.
4:35 p.m. - 2008-01-22