s a r a h c a s m

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. 

A few days ago, I was playing a CD of Free to Be You and Me for Q.  I grew up on that album and remember loving it when I was a kid.   Although the album was made in the 70s, the content was still relevant (which is bittersweet).   Later that day, I read this post by Christine at Lite Mocha Mom, and it got me thinking about my convictions and what has influenced them.

I’ve been told that I’ve always been hyper-sensitive to injustice and inequity.  As, the story goes… when I was 3 years old I found out my Grandma had had her married name longer than her birth name.  My response?  “What? No man is gonna take my name away from me!”  That is a lot of conviction for a small kid.

My dad tells me that from a young age, I would point out things that were “not fair,” even if it didn’t benefit me to do so;  I am that way to this day.  Little miss convicted.  I have to say I am proud of it, though I have learned to pick my battles and have realised some battles are better avoided than fought.

I think this conviction is part of my temperament… wired into my brain somewhere, but I have to give credit to my parents for fostering it and exposing me to things that would support it and help it grow.  One of those things was music, and Free to Be You and Me influenced me a great deal when I was young.  The album dealt a lot with gender role stereotypes and expectations and those lessons have stuck with me; I find myself teaching them to my son.

One of my favourite songs from that album is this one:

(If the voice sounds familiar, it’s because it is Alan Alda)

My tastes changed with age.  As I entered adolescence, my musical preferences were influenced a lot by my friends and my older brother.   Spirit of the West was one of the bands that I gravitated towards and who ended up affecting my political views a lot more than I gave them credit for at the time.

Here is one of my favourite songs of theirs – from Labour Day called Take it From the Source:

I was sitting in Basil’s with a friend and coffee
Thinking the world a fine place to be
When the man on my right got up to leave
And left a little piece of his mind with me
He said, “faggots like you should be put in asylums”
Now tell me, who takes the blame
For his being scared, so unaware
That he would fire his fear without an ounce of shame?

Whatever happened to love thy neighbour?
Nothing more than a worn out cliché
Are all men created equal or has this too become passé?
You don’t need to open your mouth for me to read your lips
I can follow the language displayed on your finger tip

They don’t look before they leap
They don’t think before they speak
They just sharpen their tongues on you and me
Spit poison darts between perfect teeth
You’ve got to take it from the source
Look at where it’s coming from
You’ve got to take it from the source
They’re only wasted words on me

I guess I just don’t measure up
Strayed from the straight and narrow road
So you lock me up, throw away the key
’cause I don’t live by your dress code
That’s ok, I’ve heard it before
You can open the wound I feel no pain
I don’t need an armour suit ’cause
You’re the one with the ball and chain
c. Spirit of the West. 1988

I hope Q grows up to have a strong sense of justice and that he recognizes and calls out injustice when he see it, even if doing so is not in his favour.  I hope that I have a part in that, but that he also exposes himself to influences and experiences that cultivate it in him.

Did music you listen to influence your political views and sense of justice?  What has influenced you and what are you exposing your children to, to encourage them to think beyond their own lived experience?