On Friday, I went to shovel out my car. While I was there, three Hatian women (from down the street) were watching a man get one of their cars out. I smiled, said hello, and went to my shoveling. They started chatting with me about the snow. As I was in just a sweatshirt and my watch cap (and gloves, Mom), and they were in heavy coats, invariably they asked where I was from and did I mind the snow. Then the inevitable happened.
“Where’s your husband? Why isn’t he shoveling?”
I don’t have a husband, I explained. My father lives in another country, my brother in another state. It’s just me and my roommate. Then they want to know who will drive my car out, because a man can back it out better. I say ‘It’s just me and my roommate’ again (who, by the way, drove the car out like a damned hero).
This goes on and on for a while, until the oldest of them laughs and says “Who needs a man anyway? Look at her go!” This is why I joked that I’ve started a Hatian revolution, by the way.
They left and I continued to shovel, pondering the inherent sexism of snow. On Wednesday, I saw no women (besides myself) shoveling out, unless you count the little girl and her brother ‘helping’ their father, and the mother who worked in tandem with her husband. That was clearly a family affair. There were no other lone women doing the work, however, and that bothered me a little. As I kept shoveling, the delivery guy for the grocery store I share an alley with came up. I took a break and helped him dig out a spot to get out of his cab. We chatted as I dug, and he asked me about my technique.
See, I waited an extra couple days before digging out the car. On Wednesday, I spent an hour making a trench around my car, so we could get in and start it, and I shoveled off the car (yes, I had to shovel OFF the car, not brush it) so that it wouldn’t freeze solid. But I didn’t bother to dig the last 3″x5″x3″ 3ftx5ftx3ft couch-sized chunk out until we’d had the alley plowed. After all, the plow was going to shove at least a foot of snow back in, and I didn’t want to double my work. The bonus of waiting was that the snow had solidified into ‘chunks’, enabling me to hoist large ‘blocks’ of snow, about the size of a briefcase or backpack, and fling them into the pile. We were using Jose’s space, next to mine, as our snow mountain. I explained it was easier this way, to get large swaths of snow out. I also explained that I used my core muscles (abs, not back) to do my pivoting, since my knee was not my friend. Then I explained how I used my legs to brace, but I never bent over fully. Keep your back straight, don’t over extend your arms, etc etc. It’s actually pretty easy and a great workout. He was impressed.
That bothered me a little, but as he didn’t make a big deal about me being a girl (except to ask if I was single), I thought little of it.
Today when I got home, an ambulance was having trouble getting their gurney to the building. The jackass who has a snowblower did take care of his sidewalk, but he didn’t blow a path to the street for his wheelchair’d tenant. Which meant when the EMTs showed up, they had no way to get the fellow out. I was clearing off the latest two inches, so I came over with my shovel and offered to help. The young EMT was ordered by his boss to do it instead. We talked a bit while they shoveled, and I said I’d be finishing my walk, but if they needed me, I was just over there. Then I went back to shoveling.
At this point, three Jews (two I knew), a Greek fellow and a Mexican all came by while I shoveled the walk (not in that order). My plan was to widen the narrow path I’d carved the week before into something the mail lady would be able to use more easily. The first Jew (a hippie I knew by site, but not by name) said I was a good person. The second (who owns a unit in my building) said ‘Bless you!’ and squeezed my arm. The third asked where my husband was. I had never seen this man before and just gave him a dirty look. He blushed and said “You know, we send our daughters to Yeshiva, to Israel, and we tell them they don’t need a man, they can do anything. Then we’re shocked when they do! Don’t tell my wife!” I laughed with him now, and he made sure I didn’t have a slacker husband who was making me do the work unfairly before leaving, and telling me I had a good soul. The Greek guy asked about my husband too, and upon finding out that (a) I was unmarried and (b) I lived in the area, wanted to set me up with his son or nephew. The Mexican spoke only Mexican Spanish (which I kind of know…) and wanted to know if I was married (again!?) or for hire (no, I was tired).
So lets review. The only people who didn’t think I needed a husband to help me shovel (or drive) were the professionals and two people who’d seen me around town. People who didn’t know me, or hadn’t seen me around town, immediately wanted to know why I, a woman, was shoveling snow.
What the hell?
It’s 2011. I’m a woman who is perfectly capable of taking care of myself, living my life, and dealing with twenty inches of snow. I do not need a man for anything. I certainly don’t want to date one (I have a girlfriend, thank you, but that’s not their business). I don’t need a ‘big strong man’ to shovel me out, I’m in good shape! I don’t need one to drive my car, I have a license! The only thing I MIGHT need a man for is to win a peeing contest. Seriously. I need a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
Why were all these people trying to compare my worth to a mans? Why is it impressive that I can shovel snow? It’s not like I can fly a space shuttle. And by the way, women can do that too. It irks me that the world is still stuck on comparing men and women like this. My gender, my sexuality, and my ‘marital status’ have no impact, whatsoever, on my ability to shovel snow. Stop measuring me like that. Look at my skills, my achievements, my abilities, and measure me based on that. But my gender? That’s just sad.
Great expose on the sexism of snow, of manual labor, of societal expectations. I *am* married and I’d be *pissed* if somebody assumed that my husband should do the shoveling and not the two of us together or just me by myself. (Big surprise: it’s a nice break from three kids stuck indoors to be able to go outside and shovel by myself! When it snows here we argue over who “gets” to go shovel. Sometimes, of course, we make it a family affair.) My husband would be horrified that people didn’t a) offer to help more and b) simply acknowledge good work.
So I’ll acknowedge it here. Good work Ipstenu!
They all thanked me, for what it’s worth. Just some of them thought I should be eating bon bons instead, I guess. It’s still just really WEIRD to me that they specifically asked about a husband.
Funny enough, I had a very similar situation. I’m dating a boy who is very traditional with these sorts of things (which is a first for me).
I work a shift that is typically 2-4 hours earlier than him, so I am almost always up before he is. I took a snow day the day of the blizzard, but the next day I had to the office. I got up, bundled up quietly, and headed for the door. The boy’s older sister was at the house that morning, and gave me the most incredulous look when I told her my plan to shovel my car out. That set the tone, alright.
I went out and cleaned out the snow and drifts around my car and the ~15 feet out to the alley, went back and showered and went about my day. While I was shoveling a couple of the older guys (both mexican) around where he lives expressed disdain because I was out there, and the boyfriend wasn’t. “He takes care of me, but I’m certainly more than capable. I don’t need him or any other man to take care of me.”
That night, the boy tried to yell at me for doing it myself. “You should have gotten me up! I would have taken care of it for you!”
I tempered my inner strong-willed woman, and came at him with logic. “Listen, we need to get this thing straight. I will never be the kind of woman that asks you to do something because I’m ‘not supposed to’ according to society’s gender stereotypes. You can do all the ‘taking care of me’ that you want, without being asked. You open doors for me, and take the trash out, and protect me from the crack heads without being asked. That’s awesome. But I insist that I always be able and willing to take care of myself, too.”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “Okay, fine. But you don’t have to do it alone. Next time wake me up, and we’ll do it together.”
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It’s definitely bred and cultivated into many cultures, still. The boy is second (maybe third) generation, but the predefined roles of women and men in his family are still very strong.
And that is fairness. He sounds like he’s trainable to understand the difference between gender roles and how a couple shares the workload.
I don’t mind people being a ‘gentleman’ (I hate the sound of gentleperson, so I don’t use it), provided the INTENT is not misogyny but simple politeness. Hold the door open for everyone, help everyone across the street, let anyone go in front of you in lines, give up your seat for anyone who looks like they need it. Just pay attention and treat everyone fairly. Works a lot better than ‘I’m a man, I’ll open your jar, little lady.’ (Which is epically funny when he can’t either, and Mrs. Ipstenu has to do it for them…)
this reminded me of a few things, because I get this too. and I *have* a husband! (Granted, he likes to do some of these things for me,and he drives the tractor way better than I do…)
but my point here is in agreement with yours, and that is a LOT of women are also trained to wait for the man to do it *for* them. This is just SAD! And over little things that women can do themselves!
I know someone who had a running toilet and had waited over a week for the husband to “do something” about it. I said, “Got a screwdriver?” She handed me one, so she knew where they were. I went in the bathroom, lifted the lid off the tank, made an adjustment to the ball cock and said “There ya go, toilet fixed.”
Literally, less than five minutes. Sheesh.
The amount of women just standing around waiting for some man to be available to help them is just… annoying as all get out.
Yes! Women that believe that they can’t/shouldn’t have to do certain things baffle me. Though many of them are raised that way, I still don’t get it.
God knows I hate people who can’t help themselves
Now go make me a sandwich. Don’t forget the mayo.