I had to break up men fighting on International Women’s Day and then a male onlooker started hitting on me, so I asked my male partner to walk me home.
Yep. Happy International Women's Day to me.
I have to backtrack a bit and say that the day didn’t start so badly. In fact, this story started with me attending an exquisite and provocative International Women's Day event at the SHE of mind and body exhibition. Struck by beautiful representations of female reproductive organs by Ema Shin, and deep in thought about the loss of political power as well as life that is caused by violence against women thanks to Danielle Bain’s sobering piece, I said goodbye to my courageous and thoughtful friend Fi and boarded the bus to head home.
My quiet reading of the pieces women had submitted to the gallery zine ended abruptly when the man in front of me turned around to confront a man sitting behind me who had just got out a vape on the bus. (Top tip: if you want someone to help you out, don’t open your request with a threat to call the police.)
The interaction quickly devolved into a punch-on and unfortunately, I found myself quite literally sitting in the middle of it (well, they eventually moved it into the aisle instead of going over the seat I was in, which I guess was nice?).
The altercation eventually settled, amidst calls to stand down from myself and two others sitting up the back. The instigator of the whole thing moved down to the front of the bus and started following through on his earlier threat to call the police.
Those of us left down the back started debriefing the incident, and not keen to find the still heightened man down the front getting off at the same stop as me, I shot off a text to my male partner asking him to meet me at the bus stop and walk the 400m to our house with me.
I then jotted down my first name and phone number and handed it to the guy behind me. He told us he had been released from prison two days ago and, understandably, was not keen to find himself back in any situation involving the police. “If that call to the cops comes to anything and you need a witness I’m happy to help. Here’s my number.” I ripped the corner of a page out of my notebook and leaned over to pass it to him.
“Awh, can I have your number too!”, came the call of another man. As I looked up I caught a glimpse of the wink that accompanied the comment.
And do you know what I did?
I laughed.
Having just had to try break up a fight between two men and totally depleted of the will to have any more confrontation that the night had already had - I laughed. I fucking laughed it off like it was a funny, cute joke.
I was mad with myself for it even as I did it. Only a failure of a feminist would absorb the harm of that comment while making sure everyone else is left feeling good about themselves.
Fortunately, a wave of self-compassion came next. How can any of us have energy left to stand up for ourselves when we have to mediate the fights of men and then immediately stave off their sexual advances?
As I’m searching for the ‘practical politics’ thread to this post - a small scale action us ordinary folks could take from this - I’m asking myself the same question. I don’t have the energy to work out what to do about this kind of sexism. I’m tired. Women are tired. We need allies - men - to see this as their fight too.
So for today, my small scale action is to not write the end of this blog post. Instead, I’ll hand it off to one of those allies, my partner Tim, who was running down the street to meet me as I got off the bus, there for a debrief as we walked home together, and wants to see more men join him in the fight for gender equality.
As Tas suggests, the practical steps here are not really for women to take. Women have been taking practical steps in this space for hundreds of years, but in certain respects women are shackled to a deadweight. Until men (particularly straight men) change progress will remain difficult. So forgive me, on this post about IWD, for talking mostly about men.
I was not raised to take responsibility for myself. My mum was eager, perhaps over eager to ensure my needs were met. My dad’s domestic contributions were mostly limited to the barbecue and the shed. The message I gleaned from my parents was that a woman would always be there to make things right.
When I arrived at dating age I found myself very attracted to girls who were caring. There’s nothing wrong with this in isolation, but in retrospect, I was looking for someone to look after me so that I could go on not taking responsibility for myself. Normative gender roles in a heterosexual relationship seemed like a good deal to teenaged me.
I did my first load of washing when I was 18. I left the wet clothes in the machine for so long that my favourite jumper developed a smell I couldn’t get rid of and it had to be disposed of.
Things began to shift for me in my early 20s. I remember on several occasions my mum looking at my messy room and saying “you’re just like your father”. The finality and inflexibility of that statement frustrated me to my core. I love my dad, but I suppose that deep down I knew I did not want to inherit his domestic habits and I hated that my mum seemed to assume I was a lost cause. I was left with a deep determination to prove her wrong.
Isn’t it bizarre that the stereotypical macho-man is independent and capable, but only as long as there is someone to cook for him? If it weren’t for ramen and Uber eats these poor guys may simply starve.
Soon I moved out. I learned to cook, clean, and do the washing. It was embarrassingly difficult at first, and I wished my parents had taught me these skills as a child. But by the time I got with Tas I didn’t need a woman who would always be there to pick up the pieces and look after me. I was able to enter into a partnership where domestic duties were shared.
For too long men have expected women to fill in the gaps of their dysfunction, and in so doing we have shackled them and stunted ourselves. We’ve expected them to be active enough to break up our fights, but passive enough to allow being inappropriately hit on. As long as men hold these expectations, feminist progress will be difficult.
I really do think that positive change in social gender dynamics begins domestically. When responsibility, through things like cooking and cleaning, is taken at home it will be taken in the public sphere as well. When respect, through ensuring duties are shared, is given at home it will be given in the public sphere as well. It is the first domino to fall in a row which leads to better outcomes for all. Or as Helen Lewis more succinctly puts it, ‘Yes, there is one great contribution men can make to feminism: pick up a mop.’
Ugh!! Im glad you came to some compassion for yourself in an icky situation - And did what felt safe after a tense and violent conflict! Appreciate the honesty and reflection from Tim too
Amazing Tas ♥️