So I trekked up to Buffalo to visit my parents recently and ended up in two rather interesting conversations, one with my mother and one with my father. Now, before I delve into the details of both dialogues, I feel I ought to give a little background regarding how I grew up.

          My parents had a reasonably traditional marriage; they met in Rochester, got engaged, married, and had three children. My dad worked and my mom stayed home with us kids (though she did work beforehand and eventually went back to working when I grew up).

          While my mother was at home, she did most of the cleaning around the house, though my father would help by taking out the garbage, doing repairs, and completing yardwork. Shopping, cooking, and housework responsibilities shifted as schedules changed. Both my mother and father helped the three of us with homework and read to us before bed. My mom could just as easily shovel the driveway as my father could sew.

          Furthermore, we, the children, were pretty free to dress how we wanted, select extracurricular activities as we pleased, and play with whichever toys caught our attention, regardless of gender. I played with Power Ranger action figures, Legos, and Transformers with my brother and he played dress up and with Barbies alongside me and my sister.

          All this is to say that in my household, we experienced gender in a reasonably healthy way for the time. Although we as a family were not immune to society’s stereotypes and expectations, they did not frequently seem to impede our personal ambitions or the expression of our individual personalities. Presently, as a teacher witnessing the pressures her students face at home and in society on a daily basis, I very much value and appreciate the freedom of gender expression I had at home.

          Let me say this: my father never treated me like a daughter.And I don’t mean he never treated me differently as a girl – little girls have different needs than boys do growing up, but he never treated me as fragile or less than a boy. I was never told I couldn’t do something just because I was a girl – with the exception of Boy Scouts, which I concede was a rule he just couldn’t bypass.

          My father also didn’t raise me to be helpless. “Come here,” he’d say, whenever I asked for help. “I’ll show you how to do it.” So I learned to rely on myself. I was never told I needed to come home earlier than my brother because I was a girl and girls couldn’t be out past dark or that I had to go grocery shopping with my mother instead of learning to change a spare with my father, the way some of my students had. I was encouraged to be all I could be. My gender was never even a part of the discussion. Thus, I am thankful to both my parents for striving to be better than past generations were, and for treating their children pretty equally. 

          All that being said, let’s shift back to my original point: two very similar conversations, one with my mom and one with my dad, which were both wrought with very unwelcome sexism. The first conversation occurred between me and my mother. It was late evening when she started telling me about a book she thought I should read. The book was about how to interact with men.

          Now firstly, let me be honest in admitting I have already read a couple of these types of books before, books which focus on the behaviors of men in dating, how to navigate as a lady in romantic relationships, the way men and women communicate differently, and the psychology and biology behind our inherent dissimilarities. The one thing all the books had in common (aside from correctly surmising that men and women are different and behave differently) was that they failed to provide any real strategies for remediating relationship woes.  

          I believe this is because most of men and women's differences can be attributed to socialization, which would be difficult to undo without therapy and unpacking the patriarchy. The world today is still centered, like it was nearly seventy years ago (according to these sexist ads from the 50's), around pleasing men. Yes, yes, I know. Women have the right to vote now and can have jobs and bank accounts, but that doesn’t really mean we are equal. At least not yet. Women are still expected to cater to the opposite sex, making sacrifices and often diminishing themselves in order to pacify the male ego. They are expected to prioritize their male partners' careers and hobbies and to behave in ways that reinforce the patriarchy. Which brings me to the second thing these books have in common.

         The majority of these books give advice that relies on the idea that women should behave differently to assuage any unpleasant feelings belonging to men. For example, it’s common for such books to give advice like this: Let him call you. If you call him before he is ready, he will feel pressured and unmanly. Let him take control. Well, I call bullshit.

          I, myself, happen to be a go-getter. I go and I get things. It’s what I do. So why would I suddenly suppress my ambition and my drive when it comes to a relationship? Why must I sit back and wait for a man’s cues like some sort of performer? Why is it that men are told to pursue the partners they want, but women are told to wait? Don’t be too nice or too available because he will take you for granted. Don’t be too easy, but give him a little something or he will get bored. Wait for him to make the first move. It honestly makes the process of selecting a partner very passive and rather anxiety-inducing. It’s like women are just teenage girls in gym class, waiting to be chosen to play the game. It’s all very stifling and feels a lot like being asked to set aside our own needs.  

          Naturally, the point my mom is missing in recommending this book is that I don’t want to play the game. If I need to analyze my behaviors and idiosyncrasies so thoroughly that I modify and adjust them almost on command, is that even real connection? I think not. In fact, if I need to lessen myself as a human being and dullen my personality and achievements to please the fragile ego of an insecure man, I’ll stay single. I will not compromise myself for fear of emasculating and pushing away an inferior man.     

          Or, at least, a man who feels inferior. Because this is something all of my previous boyfriends have told me over the past decade-plus. It’s almost verbatim every time. Things start off amicably in the beginning; he seems impressed by me, seems to have himself together, and seems confident. We seem compatible and have chemistry and we start dating. But before long the same things he respected about me when we first met (my high education, my lofty goals, and my take-charge attitude) all suddenly make him resentful. Even if he is educated, smart, attractive, and holds a cushy position at a high paying job in which he is well respected and valued. Then, over the course of many painful weeks, months, or even years, the relationship starts to deteriorate until finally he expresses the hideous thought eating away at his insides: I’m not good enough for you.

          Now, let me be clear. I don’t believe all men are inferior or that all men are tragically insecure. I have made some poor choices and probably also stumbled into some bad luck. I would imagine, there are plenty of souls like me, who defy the stereotypes of their gender, and go about their days nonconforming and breaking glass ceilings. I just haven’t found the one made for me yet. And I’m in no rush. Singledom certainly has its benefits. 

          Which brings me to conversation number two, the dialogue I had with my father. One afternoon, we sat down at the kitchen table and he suddenly asked me, “Have you met any men lately?” This was an uncommon question for my father. It is usually my mother that does the asking about men. 

          “No,” I snorted, laughing. “I really could care less.” Which has actually become true. It used to be, long ago, that I looked for a relationship to carry me when I couldn’t carry myself, but those days of insecurity have since passed.        

          My father nodded and I tried to explain what I meant better. “I enjoy being alone. I’m able to travel and see what I want to see. I do what I want to do. I use my spare time to work on the dreams I’ve always had: becoming a professional teacher, publishing, seeing the ancient ruins of the Incas, Mayas, and Aztecs. If I run into someone, cool, and if I don’t… I’m content.”

          “Well,” my father said. “I don’t mean to pry. I just know you’re like me – you’re a leader. You’re powerful, but men like to carry the burden. Don’t be hesitant to let someone share the reins.”

          My father’s eyes showed love, concern, and cognizance of how fast time has been moving. “Your mother and I, as parents, we’ve reached an age where we are very aware of our own mortality. We can see it. It’s no longer off in the distance, but we’re looking at it. We’re getting older.”

          I know he meant well, but his comments about power and leadership very much irked me. How did my leadership skills suddenly diminish from my strong suit to my detriment? I felt like I was being advised to throw the race. Why can’t I be the commanding one? Or better yet, why can’t we both be powerful and both carry the burden? Believe me, I don’t want all the power or all the burden. But should I have to feign being less capable than I am to please my partner? Especially after years of traveling alone, teaching abroad, paying my bills with my own money, maintaining my home, and publishing four of my own books?

          I could already feel the conversation upsetting me. What an incredible amount of pressure to have on you as a young woman: be independent, get an education, establish your career, find the right man, get engaged, plan a wedding, get married, and have children – before we die please. There's nothing quite as upsetting as contemplating the mortality of your weathering parents. 

          I couldn’t help but think this conversation would never be happening with my brother. I tried imagining a similar father-son conversation: “Be careful when you meet the right woman that you don’t lead too much. You’re powerful, but women like to carry the burden.” How ridiculous does that sound when addressing a man?

          But why does it sound so ridiculous? Clearly it's because men are still being taught that they must be the breadwinners, the fixer-uppers, the stoic and in-control ones, and guides of women (who obviously couldn’t pave their own ways anyway). And in that same vein, women are still generally expected to be the followers. Even when we are capable of being strong leaders, it seems men expect us to be somehow less, so much so that according to The Harvard Gazette, apparently single women often stifle their ambition and authority at work when in the company of single men to appear more desirable. 

          This is why feminism is so crucial, even in modern society. Men are suffering equally from sexism. They are expected to live in the same age-old, narrow and uncomfortable boxes, just like their counterparts. Why can’t we all just be who we are, regardless of our sex and gender? We should be working on finding common ground as men, women, and non-binary people alike, not cutting one another down.

          Thus, I’d like to end on a positive note, by acknowledging my parents once again for raising me to be such a strong and independent person and for giving me the courage and motivation to become who I am. Mom and dad, if you’re reading, I understand you want to see me find happiness and a partner with whom to share my life. I also understand you want to partake in the celebrations and in the joys that will surely follow, and I hope you will. Just keep in mind that you raised me to be ambitious, and that’s exactly what I am. If my future and what makes me content look different than you anticipated, I hope you can recognize them and raise a glass.

          I will not perpetuate the same expectations for women I’ve found so asphyxiating in my own twenty-seven years. I have to do right by my female peers, by the young men and women I teach, and by myself. Men should not have to repress their leadership skills nor their independence, and neither should women.