Dear Fellow Liberal White Women

Dear Fellow Liberal White Women:

By now you've probably heard the statistic. 53% of white women voted for Donald Trump on Tuesday, while only 43% of white women voted for Hillary Clinton.

This statistic has been the catalyst for articles like this one from the Huffington Post, which accuses white women of not caring enough about sexism, about their friends of color, about the LGBTQ community, and other marginalized groups that Trump has bullied, belittled, unsettled, and threatened during his contentious campaign run. These articles attempt to shame white women. The message is clear: this tragedy is your fault. You should know better. You should do more.

What is less clear is the intended audience. Is the article talking about the white women who voted Trump? They would seem to be the most directly culpable - and yet, they're hardly the ones who are going on Huffington Post the day after the election, heartbroken and searching in desperation for answers as to how Hillary lost. So is the article actually talking to liberal white women? Liberal white women who perhaps knew conservative white women, but didn't "do enough" to convince them not to vote for Trump, or not to vote third party?

Why is the article talking to women at all?

As if women - the victims of the patriarchy - are the worst offenders. As if because they witness sexism, they should "know better." (Isn't that called victim blaming? If you were talking to a rape survivor, would you ask why she let herself be raped? No. You wouldn't.)

This article is hardly alone in casting blame unilaterally, in failing to understand what is actually happening. Even before election day, it was rampant. In an email chain going around my husband's liberal, Jewish family, a relative wrote, "Remember: a woman voting Republican is like a chicken voting for Colonel Sanders."

To us liberals, it is obvious 1) that sexism exists, 2) that sexism is a bad thing that needs to be eradicated, and 3) that the Republican party only perpetuates sexism. But those are not givens. Conservative women do not see those statements as fundamental truths. They do not understand that voting Republican is contributing to their own oppression. And blaming them, or trying to shame them into understanding that is not a tactic that is going to work.

Those white women who voted Republican? I know them. They are my family members, my Facebook friends, my ancestors, my neighbors. Hell, I was once one of those women. It was the environment I grew up in. And if I hadn't had some liberal high school teachers, if I hadn't gone to college, if I hadn't taken Women's and Gender Studies classes - it's likely I would still be one of them.

I know those white women. And I'm telling you - they are not monsters. They are not stupid. They are not mean-spirited or vindictive, and they did not vote for Trump because they don't care about other women, or people of color, or disabled people, or members of the LGBTQ community. Even the ones who were most enthusiastic about Trump did not love everything about his rhetoric. They made excuses for his poor language choices, his misbehaviors, his bullying - rebranding them as antics, as "speaking his mind" - because they liked him for other reasons.

They are not monsters. They are victims. They are victims of the patriarchy, same as us. There is no "perfect" victim. Some recognize sexism and do everything in their power to try to fix it. Others recognize sexism but don't prioritize fighting it. Still others don't even recognize sexism at all. They don't know they're victims. That doesn't mean they aren't victims - just that they don't know they are.

These white women who voted for Trump live in suburbs, in rural areas, where everyone smiles at each other instead of leering. They've never seen an obvious example of sexism in their everyday lives, because they are privileged in other ways (by their skin color, their religion, their country of birth, the language they speak, their sexual orientation). They have always (or mostly) felt personally valued by the men and other women in their lives; they've always felt respected and loved. Their oppression is familiar, a comfort, and they do not recognize it for what it is.

They recognize that there are differences between the genders - both innate and learned - but they don't see this as oppression. They easily fit into the criteria our society has developed for womanhood, and so it is not of their concern for them to be kept in that box. They like the challenge of juggling double standards. They don't even realize they're juggling them.

They like pleasing people. They like taking care of the men in their lives. They are peacekeepers within their families. They do what is expected of them because it is easier that way, or because they like knowing that they are doing all they can to keep their families running smoothly. They like knowing what they are supposed to do. There are traditional gender roles, and as long as they follow them, their lives are pleasant, tolerable.

When they are catcalled at the grocery store, they take it as a compliment. Because they have been taught to take it as a compliment. Because they have been taught that men are allowed to "act like men."

They rationalize and make excuses when Trump (or anyone else) brags about sexual assault, describes women in vulgar terms, or indicates that women are put on Earth for the sole purpose of men's desires - whether that be for her to let him have sex with her, or for her to make him a sandwich - because that is what they do everyday of their lives. They have seen their husbands, their fathers, their brothers, their sons, their friends act the same way and say the same things. They believe (they hope) that their men don't mean anything by it - that it's just silly, that it's fine, that it's the way things always have been and the way they always will be.

They would never dream of working outside the home - because they don't need to, because they don't want to, because they firmly believe that they are not supposed to.

They feel the double-bind of working outside the home and childcare. They feel guilty if they spend too much time at home with their children - they wonder if they should be at work, modeling for the next generation that a woman can do both, that a mother can have a wider range of influence than just the tiny sphere of her home. They feel guilty if they spend too much time at work - they wonder if they should be home, taking care of their children and doing housework, as their mothers and mother's mothers and mother's mother's mothers did. They want to "have it all" and they want to prove that they can "have it all." They think, "All these other women do it. Why can't I? It must be something wrong with me. Me - not the system, or the unfair double standards, but me as an individual. I am the one who is failing."

They don't like to be called a Feminist, because men don't like women who are Feminists. They don't like the idea of rocking the boat. They would rather be the one who smooths hurt feelings, rather than the cause of it.

When they see oppression, they deflect it. They think: "That wasn't what I thought it was." They think: "I was wrong." They think: "This isn't systematic oppression. It's just a one-time thing." They think: "Maybe that woman deserved it." They think: "Maybe I deserve it."

They are Christian, and they believe it when men tell them that the Christian God once decreed that women are inferior to men. They believe that the best thing they can be is someone's daughter, someone's wife, someone's mother. They define themselves - gladly, willingly - as belonging to someone else. They don't feel qualified to stand alone, to be independent. They don't have high enough self-esteem to believe that they have value outside of their interpersonal relationships.

The world has favored men for so long that they assume this is simply the way things are. Men wouldn't be the heads of religion, the heads of government, the heads of households if it weren't supposed to be that way. Life is just harder for women. It's okay. It's what God intended. They think, "God gave me this cross to bear, this cross of being female. And it is up to me to be strong enough to bear it." They tuck their feelings inside, until their feelings disappear.

They have been objectified and condemned and violated. They have been beaten and emotionally abused and sexually assaulted and raped. But they don't want to think about it. It happened a long time ago. It doesn't matter anymore. Best to forget about it.

They blame themselves for tragedies that have happened to them. When their husbands beat them or yell at them or control their money or threaten to leave them or threaten to separate them from their children, or use any number of psychological and emotional and physical abuse tactics, these women wonder, "What did I do wrong? What did I do to provoke him?"

They don't want to act like a victim. They don't want to be upset with their lot; they don't want to cry, they don't want to be angry. They've witnessed sexism everyday of their life, but choose not to acknowledge it, because it is easier to bury their heads in the sand. They have a series of defense mechanisms - defense mechanisms they aren't even aware that they use - to keep them from understanding that women are still second-class citizens, to keep them from understanding why Feminism is important.

Their husbands, their pastors, their Fox News anchors tell them to vote Republican. These women hear that "women's issues" are special interests. They are told that there are more serious issues at stake - issues like immigration, or the economy. Issues that effect everyone. Issues that effect men. Issues that effect Christians. Issues that "matter."

They are tired. They've never fought for their own freedoms before, but it looks exhausting. They've tried fighting before, and it got them nowhere. They see the writing on the wall. They think change is impossible, improbable. They see other things that are easier to change, easier to fight for - and so they focus on those other issues that they care about, the ones they have come to believe are more important to focus on.

They have other things in their lives, other priorities. Being a woman is only a small part of who they are. They have jobs that consume their time, or children that consume their energy. They consider other things when deciding who to vote for. They know they can handle sexism. They've been surviving sexism since they were born; they can do it for another 100 years. It's all they've ever known.

They still live with their parents. They live with their husbands. They live with their children. They live in a nursing home. They are intimidated. They are scared. They have different opinions than their families. They keep quiet.

They worried what a Hillary presidency would do to men. They worried that it would make their fathers, their husbands, their coworkers more intolerable. They worried at the personal backlash that they might witness, or be victims of, in their work spaces or in their homes. They didn't want to have to see the men in their lives suffer under a female president. They've been living under male presidents their entire lives, but they know that men's egos are more fragile. They are frightened of the die-hard Trump supporters, of what they might do if Hillary is elected. They think Trump might actually be the safer choice, because Trump would keep America closer to the status-quo.

They are new mothers, exhausted from late night feedings. They watch Nick Jr. all day, not the news. The information that reaches them is filtered, distilled, distorted - if it reaches them at all. They trust their husbands, their parents, their pastors, who seem to make good points, who seem to know what they are talking about. They adopt the convictions of others because it takes less energy than to figure out what the issues are and how they feel about them.

They are elderly women, more afraid of what will happen now than what will happen in the future, a future they won't live to see. They've seen Republicans and Democrats come and go. They think, "Is one decade really so different than the next?" They have the wisdom of their years. They know that their day-to-day won't change much from one president to the next. They've seen the country survive wars; they know that we can survive anything.

They were sick of an election cycle that lasted two years. They were sick of the arguments on their Facebook feed. They cannot stand conflict. They try their best to smooth it over. They shut politics out of their world because it makes them ill, because they have already enough stress in their lives, because it only brings them heartache, because they don't have time for it, because they are told that their vote doesn't matter anyway.

They have never had enough confidence in themselves to trust their own opinions. They have never been nurtured and given the chance to form their own opinions. When they raise their hands in class or try to speak up at work, they are ignored in favor of their male counterparts. They think, "I must be stupid." They think, "Women must be stupid." They think, "What do I know about politics anyway?" They think, "What do women know about politics anyway?"

They are enthusiastic about Trump.

They are reluctant about Trump, but voted for him anyway.

I understand that some of these are contradictory assertions. But "white women who voted for Trump" is not a homogenous group any more than "white women who voted for Hillary" is. In fact, I have felt many of the above things myself, cycling through them throughout the day - using whatever thought patterns or behaviors are necessary to deal with the Sexism of the Moment, to calm my cognitive dissonance enough so that I can survive my day.

White women who voted for Trump, white women who voted for Hillary, white women who voted for third party candidates, white women who didn't vote at all - we are all the same in that we are all victims. We just cope with it differently.

I wanted Hillary Clinton to be the next president. I was excited at the idea of my future children looking at photos of presidents in their history textbooks (or, let's be honest, a Wikipedia article), and seeing, after a long line of old white men, a black president and then a female president. I was looking forward to telling them, "I voted for both of those presidents. My generation was the one who gave America Barack and Hillary back-to-back." I did not vote for Hillary solely because of her gender - but make no mistake that representation matters. I was looking forward to being represented by a fellow woman.

Tuesday night and Wednesday morning were heartbreaking. Maybe it's always this heartbreaking when the candidate you really wanted to win does not win - I don't know. This is my third presidential election, and the first one where the person I voted for lost. I have a feeling, however, that this is a particularly heartbreaking election to lose. Because it wasn't just one candidate against another candidate - but two very different sets of ideas. And the man who I saw as representing sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and ableism was the man my country chose to elect as our next president.

It hurt. Of course it hurt. I cried Tuesday night, and I cried again Wednesday morning. I check my blood sugar every morning because I have high fasting glucose, and Wednesday it was higher than I'd ever seen before - 151. I immediately looked up on my phone if stress can effect blood sugar. It can.

But I wasn't just crying or stressed because the president I wanted to win did not win, or because I was afraid of what President Trump might do - to women, to minorities, to immigrants, to LGBTQ individuals, to natives, to everyone - though of course both of those worries did factor in. One of my greatest reasons for crying, however, was mourning. Mourning what could have been and mourning what is.

Hillary Clinton would have worked tirelessly for everyone. She knows that all women are victims of the patriarchy, even those who do not recognize their status, or those who try to ignore it, or those who (willingly or unwillingly) participate in perpetuating their own oppression. She would have bolstered the status of all women - even those who fought her tooth and nail, even those who did not want her help, even those who did not see what she was fighting for as "help" at all.

But that is not what we got. I knew several of those white women who were voting for Trump, and yet I still allowed myself to believe that we would not end up with Trump as our president-elect. I believed (naively) that enough women had come to recognize their oppression, vowed to fight it, and prioritized that fight above the other concerns in their life. I was wrong.

It deeply saddens me how many women willingly participate in their own demise. I don't like the joke my husband's relative said ("Remember: a woman voting Republican is like a chicken voting for Colonel Sanders") - not because it isn't true, but because of its flippant tone. It's not funny that Republican women believe in their second-class status. It's heartbreaking.

I know a lot of liberal women (especially women of color, for whom the symptoms of oppression are so much more obvious that it is hard to fathom how anyone could be blissfully unaware of them) are angry at the white women who voted for Trump. It is easier to be angry at people than it is to be angry at the system. But it is not their fault.

Not all victims are capable of recognizing and fighting their own oppression. The women who are blind to the reality of the world? The system made them that way. The women who follow all the patriarchal rules? The system made them that way, too.

Sexism works very hard at keeping women from recognizing their oppression, and at denying them access to the resources that would help them fight it. It has to. Women exist in equal (or slightly higher) numbers than men; sexism would not have endured for so long if it was not successful in those goals. Of course women perpetuate their own oppression. They were raised to.

I am not trying to make excuses, or say that people who voted for Trump (or who voted third party) should not be held accountable in some way. I don't know what that way is, but I can't think going around blaming demographics is going to do any good. You're not going to convince the white women who voted for Trump that they did something bad. You're probably not even going to convince them to label themselves Feminists. For many, to become Feminist would be to give up the one thing that has made their oppression, their lives bearable. Christianity, God, gives them hope and strength when times are shitty. How are they supposed to understand that it is also part of what contributes to their lives' shittiness?

Shaming women, telling them that they are supposed to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, regardless of the cost done to the personal lives, is not only unhelpful - but also anti-liberal. Lumping everyone together into demographics without considering their personal stories is counterproductive and insensitive both. It is not a very good way of getting more people enthused about politics - on the contrary, it will make these people angrier and less interested. They will disengage even more, they will deflect further into the oppressive Republican camp.

We need to come together, not pull each other apart.

Why Are You So Quiet?: A Modern Double Standard

It used to be that men had no qualms about verbally disparaging (or physically abusing) womenfolk if they spoke "out of turn," voiced opinions, or socialized - with other men, or even with each other. A well-behaved woman was meek and silent; like a child, she was allowed to speak only when spoken to, or only in certain places. The specific customs varied depending on location and historic era, but a popular one was that women could only speak at home, and that their voices were unwanted in public.

In the Bible (1 Corinthians 14:34-35), for instance, Paul said: "Women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says. If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church." (NIV)

In some religions or cultures even today, women are discouraged from speaking. An overly loud, gregarious, or social female is seen as dangerous, unruly, and impolite. Often, it is a seen as a reflection of other "moral failings," such as sexual promiscuity. A woman who speaks freely also probably has sex freely; a sociable woman is therefore a bitch and a whore.

This is an extreme opinion. It is not usually said so harshly - at least in modern America - and yet some of this idea remains and permeates our culture more subtly. Women do not generally fear physical abuse or being called a whore if they were to voice an opinion in public or interrupt a man - and yet it's statistically observable that in many gender-integrated public spheres (classrooms, business meetings), women are less likely to raise their hands or speak up. They're less likely to be called upon to speak up. And they're less likely to interrupt their male counterparts, compared to how often women are interrupted by men. Women don't participate in public in the same way that men do - because we've been conditioned not to. We've been raised that interrupting others is impolite.

The standards of "good behavior" are different for girls and boys - "boys will be boys," we're told, and so they are allowed physical and verbal freedoms like running through the house, making a mess, interrupting each other, and speaking loudly. I could see how someone might even try to argue that it is the boys who are discriminated against with such cultural allowances - because girls are seen as more capable of good, polite, restrained behavior, at a younger age, and so are given a higher standard. A boy is going to have a hard time believing he has a capacity for patience to wait his turn or to sit still in his seat if such behaviors are not modeled for him or encouraged, or if he is met with a laugh or a shrug or a "oh well, we tried" attitude when he missteps from this desired behavior. He comes to believe instead that he can't help fidgeting, that he can't help playing rowdy, that it's in his very nature to do so. When he gets away with interrupting others, he comes to believe that his words are important, that his opinions are important. He learns that a louder voice can be heard over a softer one, and if he speaks up, if he yells, if he interrupts, people will pay attention.

Similarly, girls often learn that their gender is predisposed to politeness, to empathy. They care about others, and so they care about listening to what others say, and they're willing to put others first. They will listen to someone else complete his or her thought before voicing a response. They have the capacity to wait their turn, to be patient - and indeed embody the positive qualities of their gender when they do so.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - gender roles hurt both genders. Boys who are not loud or rambunctious might feel ashamed for not acting like a boy is supposed to; he may then purposefully act like the other boys to fit in. And girls who are too harsh or too loud or too opinionated or too rambunctious are called tomboys or bitches.

Of course, at a certain age, these prejudices about how boys act more or less fall away. Men are expected to conduct themselves with politeness and good behavior in college lecture halls and business meetings. While they may get away with interrupting colleagues on occasion, it would be noticeable (and potentially worthy of an HR write-up, or a chat with the boss) if he interrupted constantly, or acted particularly rudely when doing so.

Furthermore, while there is an expectation that women are quieter than men in professional settings, there are other public settings where women are expected to be more talkative than their male counterparts. When surrounded by other women, women are in fact "known" for their socializing. There are myriad jokes and (derogatory or derisive) phrases about their tendency to talk: gossiping, chatting, prattling, "clucking hens." In private, it's a well-known trope that wives "nag" their husbands, or just in general try to talk to their husbands about their day. (It's no wonder men are so reluctant - they spent all day at work getting a chance to talk, and now that they're home, they only want quiet, relaxing time.) At parties, women often engage both sexes in conversation, often doing the brunt work of moving a conversation forward, trying to engage those at the fringes of conversation, prompting others with questions about how they're doing, etc. If there is a person in your family who takes on the role of keeping track of everyone and updating the rest of the family on the goings-on of the others, chances are it's a woman - a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a female cousin.

Even as girls, females are expected to be social - but only during "social times." I went to three different elementary schools growing up, and anytime I started at a new building and had to make new friends, I would go through a period of transition where I would be particularly quiet and shy. Recess monitors came up to me that first week to ask if something was wrong. Why wasn't I talking with or playing with the other girls? I was shamed for not talking, for not being social. Yet later, after I made friends, I was told off for being too social. For those who know me now, it may be hard to believe - but my third grade teacher in particular had so much trouble keeping me quiet during class that she regularly kept my assigned seat away from those of my other friends. I have the report card to prove it - she wrote in the comments section that I talked too much in class, when I wasn't supposed to.

To be fair, I don't think this is necessarily gendered - we all have to learn growing up when we are and aren't allowed to do things. There is a time and place for socializing; this is true for everyone, regardless of gender. Additionally, I think the lines become more blurred, more subtle as we age. Men and women don't talk or act so differently as adults as they do as children. We all interrupt each other sometimes, we all speak loudly sometimes, and we all stay silent sometimes. We find our own rhythm, and it's often more individual and based on where and how we feel comfortable, than about gender specifically. I'm very reserved with strangers, or in large groups, but I'm comfortable talking a lot with my husband and other close friends and family members.

Yet what I do think is gendered is the policing of one's decision of where and when and how to socialize or speak up. A man can speak as loud and ardently as he wants with few repercussions; a woman does not have the luxury of always speaking her mind unless she's comfortable with being called a bitch. A man can also be as quiet and reserved as he wishes with few repercussions - if a man isn't social, he's painted as the "strong, silent type" (stoic, unemotional, manly), or it's assumed that he has "better things to do"; he's not talkative because he's busy, he's tired, he's been working hard all day. A woman who isn't being social is seen as out of the ordinary. "Why aren't you talking?" "Is something wrong?" "Are you unhappy?"

I would be remiss here if I didn't make this discussion more intersectional. A white man probably gets away more with voicing opinions and speaking loudly than a black man does. When a white man interrupts, he's eager and has strong convictions; when a black man interrupts, he's being a bully or a thug, or his parents never taught him proper manners.

I speak from my own experience when I write of quiet women being called out on their quietness; it happens to me all the time. It's not always a question. ("What's wrong?" "Are you okay?" "Why are you so quiet?" "Do I intimidate you?") Sometimes it's a statement. ("You're so quiet." "You're so reserved." "You don't have to be scared to speak up.") But the questions are still there, still implied. It's wrong, it's weird for someone like me to be quiet or reserved. It must mean something's wrong. I must be unhappy, or uncomfortable, or scared. Maybe I'm just shy and thoughtful. Maybe I'm more comfortable with silence than with talking just to talk, with saying nothing just to fill space; maybe you're the one making me uncomfortable now that you've pointed out my "unnatural silence." I hate when people say these things. What? You think this is news to me? I know I'm quiet; you don't have to tell me.

I suspect that many people point out that I'm being quiet because they wish to draw me into conversation. Instead, it often makes me retreat more, because pointing it out makes me self-conscious about how quiet I was being, and I turn even quieter to reflect on how I was acting or how I am being perceived.

On the other hand, other people may point out that I'm being quiet because they are uncomfortable with my silence - and, for some reason, think their discomfort is my problem. What they're really saying is: "I didn't expect someone who looks like you to be quiet, and you not being how I expect you to be is making me uncomfortable - which is your problem, not mine, so please get around to fixing it and acting more like how I expect you to act, so that I can be comfortable again."

Many women complain that they are told to smile - by complete strangers. They are policed on their apparent happiness and told to smile - not because the stranger is trying to make the woman feel better or feel happier, but because the stranger is uncomfortable and wants the woman to smile, to pretend that she is happy or at ease, so that the stranger can feel secure. I don't think this has happened to me; I can't think of a time (other than when I was child throwing a pity party or a temper tantrum) when I was told by someone to smile, or act happy. I certainly can't think of a time that a stranger has approached me to harass me about not smiling. But I do hear a lot of comments about how quiet I am (from people close to me and strangers or near-strangers alike), and I think these are related. Maybe it's a level worse than "not smiling." I'm not smiling and I'm not talking, not engaging socially with the world, and it's the worst offense that people pick up and try to call me out on.

I wonder, too, if it's not because I'm blonde. I'm a 20-something blonde woman, and young women and blonde women are particularly stereotyped as social, as extroverted, as talkative, as friendly, as perky, as happy. We're supposed to all be cheerleaders, sorority girls. I'm sure Black and Hispanic women who are quiet, introverted, shy, or bookish have similar stories. Because these groups (like blondes) are particularly seen as loud, extroverted, and social, with a love of raucous parties and/or dramatic displays of emotion, a Black or Hispanic woman who does not embody the expected stereotype might hear similar "concerns." What's wrong? Why aren't you friendly? Why aren't you talking? Asian women on the other hand, are not expected to be loud or talkative, so they probably don't see similar surprise from strangers when they act quiet and reserved. I can't imagine an American woman in a hijab being told: "You're so reserved. I hardly ever hear you talk." But someone like me does.

Being a woman - even an American woman - is not a universal experience. Double standards are going to be slightly different among different groups of women. But as a young blonde white woman, I am exposed to these double standards:

- If I talk a lot, I'm seen as gossiping and idly pilfering time on silly chats; yet if I'm quiet and choose not to take advantage of opportunities for small talk, I must be unhappy or uncomfortable, because a blonde anti-social female is unnatural.

- If I'm too friendly, I'm a social butterfly, a ditz not to be taken seriously - or, even worse, a flirt, a whore, a slut, sexually promiscuous, "asking for it," begging for attention; yet if I'm not friendly enough - if I prefer solitude to parties, if I'm reluctant to smile or share personal stories - then I'm uptight, uncool, rigid, old-fashioned, I have a "stick up my ass" or my "panties in a wad," I'm a prude, a tight ass, a virgin, a bitch.

- If I interrupt someone else (especially a man, especially in a professional setting), I'm rude, I'm selfish, I'm impolite, I'm a bitch; yet if I never speak up, I'm seen as weak, scared, intimidated, and unwilling or unable to stand up for myself: a doormat, a wimp, a pussy.

- If, in the process of continuing or sparking a conversation, I ask too many "personal" questions, I'm a nag, I'm nosy, I'm a bitch; yet if I don't play this role and inquire how others are doing - or if someone else were to ask for an update on my life and I were to give what they consider a short, unrevealing answer - I'm a brat, I'm snotty, I'm not feminine or empathetic enough, I'm rude, I'm uptight, I'm a bitch.

Double standards are, by definition, a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation. Because there is no way to win, I've gravitated over the years to one end of the spectrum. I decided it was safer or more comfortable for me to be thought of as uptight or unfriendly than it was to be seen as sexually promiscuous or flirty, or seen as a frivolous, vapid, unintelligent ditz. I decided I'd rather be too quiet than too loud. I was okay with being thought of as snobby or rude; I told myself I was being mysterious and unknowable, that it was a virtue, that men get away with it all the time. And so I played up my introversion more. I policed myself, I made myself quieter. I think I was predisposed to some shyness and reserve, but I definitely became more shy, more reserved, and more quiet, starting in high school and college.

I've taken the Myers-Briggs personality test a few times, and though I've nearly always come out at INFJ (and always I, in particular), for many years the amount of "I" I was on the Extroverted-Introversion spectrum only increased. I went from being like upper-60s% Introverted to high-90s% Introverted from the beginning of high school to the end of college. No wonder I seemingly lost my ability to make new friends and started giving off more austere and less friendly first impressions.

I'm not trying to be rude or impolite, and I'd rather not be called a bitch (who would?) - but what hurts me more is when my reserve is interpreted as me being a doormat, or weak, or scared, or intimidated, or sad. Maybe because there's a bit of truth in there, and that's why those words hurt more. I don't see myself as rude (on the contrary, I think I'm one of the nicest people I know); but I do worry that I don't stand up for myself enough, that I don't think enough of myself. I do worry that I'm too sad, or too anxious, or too easily intimidated. Isn't the whole reason that I became more introverted because I was afraid? I was afraid of being seen as a ditz, as unintelligent, as flirtatious, as "asking for it." Being quiet seemed like it could be my protective shell.

So to all of those who have ever asked me "Why are you so quiet?" - feel free to pick your favorite answer from the ones provided below:

- Because being quiet often feels safer to me than the alternative.

- Because being quiet often feels more comfortable to me than the alternative.

- Because by now being quiet is a habit.

- Because I'm tired of being asked why I'm quiet.

- Because I'm just tired in general.

- Because I'm mysterious and unknowable. Because still waters run deep.

- Because you wouldn't ask me that question if I were a man and I'm silently protesting your belief that you have the right to police whether or not I engage you in conversation.

- Because I'm actually not paying attention to the conversation and have zoned out and am thinking about my novel or some other much more fascinating thing.

- I actually don't owe you an explanation at all. And I suspect you weren't really looking for a thoughtful response anyway - you just wanted to get me to say something in response.

Donate to Stop Domestic Abuse & Assault

In the past, I've volunteered at Haven, a local women's shelter for families recovering from domestic abuse. Every year they do a holiday gift-giving event where they collect donations of new clothing, winter coats, toys, board games, beauty products, electronics, etc. and let anyone who has used their services in the past year come by and take free gifts for their families. They have everything from baby toys and onesies to sporting equipment and teen-appropriate gifts like bath soaps and selfie sticks. They also have small kitchen appliances like microwaves and coffee makers. And they have a ton of donated winter coats - enough that every child gets a free winter coat.

Besides the holidays, they accept donations all year round. They're always in need of diapers and feminine hygiene products. They have strollers and clothes and toys and laundry detergent. They run a shelter, so they have to supply the families who come - often with nothing but what they were able to carry out of their homes in their arms - with all of their daily necessities.

It can be hard to find time to donate - I only helped sporadically with watching the children's play room while the mothers were in a group session down the hall until my schedule just couldn't allow it anymore - but it's easy to donate necessary items or money. Haven is working on building a new facility right now that will combine all of their resources into a single building - instead of having the shelter at one location, medical help at another, therapy at another, etc. - but all of that, of course, takes money.

What I loved most about Haven was the emphasis it put on empowerment. They can't help anyone who doesn't want to be helped; they can't drag them away from their abusive relationships kicking and screaming. They teach women how to be empowered, and how to get themselves out of the situation (instead of relying on others for help). The shelter is only there as a temporary solution - a place where they can go for financial and emotional support while they figure out the next steps they're going to take.

To those who think - but I live in a nice neighborhood, these things don't happen around me - you're wrong. I live in Oakland County, Michigan, one of the ten highest income counties in the U.S. with populations over one million people. We're surrounded by wealthy private and public schools, and colleges and universities. I don't have the specific numbers on education, but there's certainly lots of access to education for most Oakland County families. All races are represented (77% White, 13% Black, 6% Asian, 4% Hispanic/Latinx, 0.3% Native American). Oakland County has the 36th largest Asian population of any county in the country, and the 21st largest Jewish community in the nation. (All data from Wikipedia.)

As Oakland County's only comprehensive program for victims of domestic violence and sexual assault, Haven provides shelter, counseling, advocacy, and educational programming to nearly 30,000 people every year.

My point is - domestic violence and abuse doesn't care if you're poor or rich, Christian or Jewish or Muslim or atheist, white or black or Asian or Hispanic, gay or straight - it effects all of us. Because it's a problem with our culture, and it permeates all demographics.

I'm sure you all have your own charities you donate to this time of year (or throughout the year), but if you don't, or if you're looking for somewhere else to help, look to Haven, or other women's shelters. Find out where your local shelter is and what they need.

And if you would like more information about domestic violence, sexual assault, or child abuse - and what forms these things can take or what exactly it looks like, Haven has a great resource page.

The Making of Home: How Pinterest is a Modern Patriarchal Conspiracy

I recently read "The Making of Home" by Judith Flanders, a survey of how the idea of home has changed in the West over the course of the last five centuries or so. Part of the book looked at the structures of houses and the items that went into them (furniture, utensils, etc.), but the part I personally found most interesting were the second and third chapters, which included some interesting commentary on gender roles.

We take it for granted today that women and men have always been relegated to certain jobs throughout history - our nomadic ancestors had the men hunt and the women gather, and once we settled into civilizations, the men provided sustenance for their families while the women stayed home to keep the domestic sphere in running order. This book argues that those long-held beliefs are simply not true, and that the way we divvy up household chores by gender is a much younger tradition than we've been led to believe.

In the 1400s/1500s (which is about as far back as this book travels in time), everybody worked from home - men and women alike. Men tended to crops while women milked cattle, men chopped wood and brought wood in for the fire, women prepared the meals, etc. There were very few "jobs" as we think of them today. The wealthiest families might have men who worked outside the home - generally merchants or traders who would be gone for months at a time journeying around the world - but peasants and the bourgeoning middle class (which is the focus of this book) often used currency very rarely at all, and were more or less self-sufficient within their families or communities. Families produced and raised and prepared their own food on their own farms - anything they were lacking, they bartered for with their neighbors. Many also ran small "businesses" out of their homes (dressmakers, bakers, laundresses, etc.) for extra income (often bartered goods, but also currency) - but this was true for both men and women, and there was no distinction between who was "allowed" or "encouraged" to earn such incomes. So while there was certainly a gendered division of labor, it wasn't quite what we think of today, since both men and women worked at their own homes.

Then, the Industrial Revolution happened. Suddenly, workers were needed in places outside the home - in factories - and it was men who took on these jobs. For the first time, men were generally working outside the home, and women stayed behind to continue the work inside the home. Furthermore, men began earning actual money for their work, instead of just bartered goods. Work done at home (the work done by women) thus became undervalued. For centuries, the domestic sphere was the domain of both genders. Once the home was considered only a woman's domain, it was suddenly inferior to other options. 

Here are some pictures of the text taken with my phone while I was reading:

Of course, this is all a bit of an oversimplification (obviously coins have been around for millennia, and if I've learned anything from art history classes, it's that sweeping generalizations about time periods and the art created therein make great narratives only at the expense of ignoring anyone who didn't fit "the style of the day"). Furthermore, all of this is only talking about the West anyway - with a particular emphasis on the U.K., the U.S.A., the Netherlands, and Germany (with a little bit of discussion on France, Italy, and Spain thrown in). So culturally, this book has a pretty limited scope.

But the takeaway I got from these chapters is, I think, interesting and applicable enough to forgive these possible issues -

Modern gender roles (and so many other "labeled" things) are so ingrained in our cultures that we forget how recently they developed. It has only been since the 1800s (less than 200 years) that men and women have been relegated to working outside the home and inside the home respectively.

And feminism has been around for guess how long? Yup. Since the 1800s. So to all those who think feminism is a "modern" movement, where women are all of a sudden getting up and complaining about their station in life - you're wrong. Women have been complaining about the unfairness of modern gender roles (the pay gap! the limited job opportunities!) since these injustices first sprang up. It's just taken a couple generations for us to start seeing some progress.

That was all chapter two (I believe). Chapter three also had some interesting commentary as it got into how the Industrial Revolution revolutionized domestic work.

Though it is true that a lot of domestic work was made easier by the machines and appliances that started to be manufactured and distributed in the 1800s/1900s, what is often overlooked as that these appliances covered what used to be the domestic chores of men. It makes sense when you think of it - once the men are no longer working at home, there needs to be another way for those chores to be done. One of the biggest physical chores the men typically did was cut the wood and maintain the fire. This fire was the only source of heat in the house, and also the method of cooking. Women did the actual meal preparation, but the men stoked the fire, so it was actually more or less an equal job labor-wise. With the advent of coal fireplaces, heating systems, and gas/electric stoves, however, men suddenly had a lot less they were required to do.

The inventions that made "housework" easier only made men's housework easier. It actually made women's housework harder, because it put more chores under the domain of "women's work."

Now it was the woman's job to prepare the food and cook it over the "fire" (the oven). And with the modern inventions of electric/gas stoves, meals were made more elaborate. When there was one hearth, everything was thrown into one pot. Every meal was stew. But with four or five or six burners, there can be different dishes all cooked at the same time. This means more meal preparation, and more cooking, which is - guess what? More work for women.

Colored pencil still life by Andrea Arbit

(Buy my stuff here - Etsy.com/shop/ArtworkbyAndreaArbit!)

Laundry was similar. It used to be that men helped with the laundry, because it was a very physical job. Water had to be carried back and forth, etc. With the invention of washing machines, this became "women's work" because the scrubbing and rinsing and wringing out could all be done at one place (even though the early prototypes were also very physical jobs, requiring hand-cranking to wring out clothing). This made more work for women, rather than less.

Cleaning, too. It used to be that nobody bothered to clean their house. (It had a dirt floor anyway - how would you even clean it?) But with the Industrial Revolution and Scientific Revolution, we learned about germs and disease and sanitation. Suddenly, cleanliness was stressed, and these chores, too, were relegated to women.

Even the sewing machine, which is one of the best known Industrial Revolution inventions for the domestic sphere, made more work for women rather than less. It used to be that there were fewer clothes - now that fabrics were cheaper and more readily available, everyone's wardrobes flourished. Instead of items made only out of wool, there was suddenly cotton. Housewives now had to know not just how to darn wool when something needed repairing, but to repair other fabrics as well. And once sewing machines were standard domestic fare, women were expected to make their family's clothing - instead of, as they might have done in the past, going to a dressmaker.

When everything is "easy" to do and readily available in every home, suddenly women were expected to do it all. The attitude wasn't even just "you have a sewing machine - you better use it"; it was more like "Sure, it's easier to go to the store and buy clothes (or bread, or groceries, etc.). But good housewives relish the hard work and do it all themselves."

You know what this made me instantly think of? Pinterest.

Pinterest is a patriarchal conspiracy. I mean, it probably isn't, but it really should be, because it does a damn good job acting as one. It's a series of "inspiration boards" that people (mostly homemakers, mostly women) are supposed to look to for inspiration. There's not much difference between inspiration and aspiration. We're not just supposed to be inspired by these boards and want to do all these things ourselves; we're also supposed to aspire to this ideal version of womanhood where mothers make all of their children's food from scratch every day, and make their own candles and soap and home decor, etc.

Sure, some of that is actually fun. I like to experiment with new recipes. And as an artist, of course I love me some good ol' arts and crafts time. But not only is it ridiculous to suggest that everyone has the time to do everything themselves, it also sort of devalues the people who try to do these things for a living. People start to think - why should I pay $50 for a painting, or $20 for a candle, etc., if I can make it myself?

I know I often fall into that trap. I think - if I can do something myself, I should. Homemade everything is better, after all.

Wait. Is it?

Actually, that's just what the patriarchy wants you to think. 

Flanders talks about this in her book (though she doesn't quite say it in so many words). There was literal propaganda in the early 1900s (hell, there still is today) - often fueled by Protestantism, which valued that "hard work ethic" - that basically told women, "Sure, you could go to the store and buy a loaf of bread. But isn't the bread that you spend hours baking and perfecting yourself so much better for your family?"

It was said that to work hard and toil (unnecessarily) was to harken back to a "simpler" time, a "better" time. That is was "traditional." Quilting bees saw a resurgence. But the fact of the matter is, pioneer women never had time to do quilting bees - and they certainly didn't have the space to do them in their dinky one-room houses! Women were encouraged to "busy themselves" making "fritteries" that no one actually wanted because it was the work itself that was to be cherished.

But really, it was just that the men wanted women out of the way of "important matters." And so they pointed them towards fabric and shiny things to distract them, and guilted them into putting in hours on silly projects because that was what women had always done (except that it wasn't), and what God intended women to do (which, like, don't even get me started on what a load that is).

(White men did the same thing to black people. "Blacks have always been slaves. It's your destiny. It's how God made you. Now go break your back working my plantation while I sit here on my high horse.")

Ugh.

How adorable is this throw pillow from lookhuman.com??

It's learning shit like this that makes me question everything I do. When I paint little watercolors and try to sell them on Etsy, am I just making "fritteries" that nobody actually wants, because I have been brainwashed by the patriarchy/the Protestantism I grew up with to believe that's all I am able to do? Should I give up watercolors and crafting and baking and other "feminine" interests I pursue as protest?

Or is belittling it ("all" I am able to do - as if there's a higher calling I should be/could be doing instead) only feeding into all this nonsense? Maybe switching to so-called "man's work" isn't the answer so much as elevating "woman's work" so they're at the same level.

Buy my watercolors so that they're not "fritteries" no one wants! Prove to the patriarchy that the products of woman's work are worth something! Maybe I should market my art like: "Donate money to fight the patriarchy!!! And also get a watercolor for your donation."

(Buy my stuff here - Etsy.com/shop/ArtworkbyAndreaArbit!)

Anyway, I'm getting off track.

What I wanted to say about Pinterest is that while it certainly has a lot of great ideas, it also perpetuates an ideal that literally no one can achieve, and thus creates another way for women to shame themselves and other women. Nobody needs to make their own soap. Soap is super available at every grocery store and pharmacy in every neighborhood, available at a variety of price points with a variety of ingredients, and even available now (like everything) for purchase online. If you're into the idea of making soap and you have the time and money to make it as a hobby, sure, go for it. I'm not knocking you. I paint watercolors. I bake cookies. But don't you dare try to shame me for buying my soap at the store, for choosing to take the "easy" way out. There are only so many hours in the day, and we can't all make all the things. Not only is it a waste, but it's a distraction.

And the patriarchy loves to see its women distracted.

I only recently got on Pinterest. I put it off for so long because I was afraid it would suck me into a black hole of guilt for stupid things like not making my own soap. But so far, I think I've managed to only use it for good. I'm on there to market my artwork (my paintings and colored pencil drawings link back to my Etsy page), and also to look for the occasional recipe idea. (I am trying to eat a lower-carb diet per my doctor's suggestion, because I have slightly elevated blood sugar and a family history of diabetes. Not that I have to defend my internet usage to you, Invisible Blog Reader.)

I don't think it's going to suck me in. For one thing, I read this book and had my Pinterest epiphany (Pinteriphany?), and now that I'm all worried making soap is just what that patriarchy wants me to do there's very little chance of me making my own soap. Ever. But for another, I think I'm more self-confident than I was even a year or so ago. I'm not as worried about what other people think of me, and I'm trying to be more relaxed with what I think of myself. There's not enough time in the day to do everything, and I'm at a point where I recognize that and can feel good about what I do accomplish without having to worry about what I didn't accomplish but should have.

And as for Judith Flander's book -

I probably did a mediocre job explaining what she said. I read this as a library book and returned it weeks ago, so I don't exactly have the pages here to double check (except for those two pictures I took on my phone) and I'm going solely off memory. So if you're interested, definitely pick up a copy and read Judith Flander's actual take instead of taking my word on it.