Yesterday, my brother, Mr. T, and I relieved my mother of all her worldly goods.  Okay, maybe not all…but the good stuff.  Mom is moving and will no longer have a yard, so she gave us all the things she won’t need.  It was a productive haul.

I got a porch swing (the fact that I don’t actually have a porch is of minor significance).

When we got home last night, it was too late to assemble the swing (and by assemble, I mean screw in 4 bolts and hang the canopy & swing).  I silently resolved to do it today by myself.

I don’t like tools.

I know nothing about them.  In fact, as my brother was disassembling the swing, I said “Hmm, I wonder if we have those tools…” to which he responded “they are just 2 wrenches.”  I kid you not.  Nor do I exaggerate.  I have no inclination to build, assemble, or have any other use for tools (except maybe a screwdriver – though, I do avoid changing batteries if I need one).

Wielding tools – not my strength.  Not my preference.  It’s a personal thing – I was in no way discouraged from using them as a child because I am a girl.  In fact, I was encouraged to use them; my mother used them all the time and fixed all sorts of things.  She painted the outside of our entire house once.  No, I did not learn this from my parents.  I just don’t like them.

So there I was this morning, set to assemble a porch swing (4 bolts).  I scavenged the basement and garage and found 2 lock wrenches (yes, I had to look that up), which I realize was overkill, but I couldn’t find any regular wrenches that fit.  I carried all the pieces to the chosen spot in the yard and got started.  Being that my only option for assistance was a 2 year old, I had to be creative.  I struggled with the pieces and cursed the tedium of my repeated actions while Q quietly played in the yard.

At one point, he came over and picked a wrench up.  “That’s Daddy’s” he said.  Uh-oh.  So, I responded “Is that only Daddy’s?  Can it be mommy’s too?”  “No.” “Why not?”  “Because it gives owies.”  Crap.  This is where personal preference becomes bigger than personal preference.  It happens that my personal preference supports gender stereotypes and, unintentionally, perpetuates certain assumptions that go along with that – even for a 2 year old.

For whatever reason, Q equated tools with Daddy with strength (which is a fair association, being that Mr. T is a million times stronger that I am and is the only one using tools around here).  However, the implications of this are not lost on me.  Implications are more powerful than intention, which means we need to be more aware of what we are modeling.  We each have our strengths and preferences – sometimes they coincide with gender stereotypes, and sometimes they don’t.

I believe that focussing on personal strengths over societal expectations is crucial.  But am I now faced with implicitly teaching my son that tools are for men because men are strong?  Or, maybe I am making too big a leap.

At what point does Daddy = men and  mommy = women? When does the individual start representing the collective?

I finished the swing.  It was actually no easy task even though it was only 4 bolts, but it was worth it.