Theory Meets Real Life

I did my reading for Intro to Women’s Studies today.

The one that stuck in my mind the most was also most relevant to a conversation I had with ManPants last night.

Yesterday, I got off my lazy butt and did some of the chores I am so talented at procrastinating. My bedroom floor is more free of clothing than it has been in a very long time; the clothes hung to dry two weeks ago were finally placed in their respective closets. I dusted while chatting on the phone with one of my long-neglected aunts, and then vacuumed when I was done. But I couldn’t help being a little annoyed that ManPants – who likes to tell me that if I start cleaning, he will feel guilty and be forced to pitch in – recorded music instead.

One of my latest resolves is to end the passive-aggressive behavior that I learned in my immediate family and stop avoiding necessary conflict, so I mentioned this to him later.

He immediately began the verbal squirming that is so familiar and expected.

I stood my ground (another resolve – to not waffle so much).

Eventually, we came to the agreement that the dry clothes and dusting had previously been designated as my chores, and that picking up only my own clothes from the floor could not be considered a shared chore. Therefore, the only chore left to balance was the vacuuming.

But reading Allan G. Johnson’s “Shame, Guilt, and Responsibility” today, in which he talks about the fact that men should not feel ashamed or guilty because they are not personally responsible for the existence of the institution of patriarchy and that, in fact, such shame or guilt does more to block progress than propel it, made me revisit this conversation.

From ManPants’ defensive reaction, it was easy to see that he felt guilt. But I didn’t speak to him about it to make him feel guilty. (I’ve been hit by enough guilt trips in my life that I have become very careful about how things like this might be perceived.) I spoke to him about it so that we could discuss it and find a solution. The instant defensiveness almost derailed this purpose completely, since ManPants was (understandably) more concerned with avoiding the shame he believed I was placing on him than solving the problem.

It certainly doesn’t help that if we never had to clean again, neither of us would, and we are both very aware of this tendency in each other.

But the only thing I expect from him – the only thing I think I should expect from him, at least – is a partner in the fight.