Before all you feminists grab your prized possessions: the broom, knife and the frying pan, do read this and see if you don’t agree. Also, no jawk about the three objects. They are my key kitchen defence tools as well. Thumbs up.
So I was a feminist once upon a time. Read my first blog post. I don’t even remember what I blog on most of the time, but this I do coz it got me to start this particular blog. There was some blogging back in 2003, but I was a child then, still very much am and don’t remember log in deets etc.
As I said, I was a feminist. Not that I’m not now, I still am, in my own little miserable ways. I do open the door for a man, because I’m a lady. Ladies have no shame doing stuff like that and we don’t wait for a man to come along to show us how to ‘push’ a door when it should actually be ‘pulled’. There was meant to be no innuendos there and in case you did wander off to some distant cloud, welcome aboard fellow perverse mind. Chuckle.
In an attempt to recollect what I wanted to say, patriarchy is not the man’s fault. It is us women who encourage this. I have seen this happen in my family, where all the women folk seem to go out of their way for the men folk. Not that there is anything wrong with that or anything. Don’t get me wrong. Okay let’s talk in examples. I have two children – I don’t, but hypothetically speaking, let’s say I do. A boy and a girl. If I am willing to make those disgusting rainbow sandwiches for my son after he comes back home from whatever practice, I should also be willing to bake a cake for my girl after she comes back from I don’t know, Drama Club. If in the event I do fail to bake a cake for the little girl using any of the following reasons:
- “I am tired.”
- “There’s cake that Akki (my Akki who bakes real well!) brought last evening, eat that.”
- “You had cake yesterday also noh. What is wrong with you?”
- “Bake your own cake.”
- “I just made Ayya/Malli some sandwiches. Eat that. I can’t be catering to everyone’s whims and fancies.”
- and so on.
BAM! You get the picture. Those very lines are the beginnings of favouritism and in a larger sense, patriarchy. If the boy is given preference from the very beginning of his life, then say no more milady, for you have nurtured a specimen us self-proclaimed practical feminists are trying to eradicate. Charity begins at home, it seems.
I personally don’t see why he should have more food, his clothes should be ironed to perfection, his shoes should shine as much his bald head, he should get the bigger piece of chicken and five pieces of beef. What if, I had a bigger appetite than him, I was more particular about ironing my clothes to perfection, I liked having my shoes clean too and I need effing six pieces of beef and an even bigger piece of chicken? Did anyone even compare appetites here?
And all this while I was complaining saying how boys were immature. Not that they are not. They very much are. However the rest of my feminine tea party, now I’m not too sure.