Oh Yeah, THIS is Why . . .

Back in the day, when I worked at the glorious WSU Writing Center, I found myself more or less constantly befuddled at how I managed to gain the status of the resident Femi-Nazi. I'm no Gloria Steinem or Betty Friedan.

My boss at the time rejoiced in having a kindred spirit--and though you could hardly call her radical, she seemed like--well, Gloria Steinem--in comparison to me.

I will readily admit that I believe there are certain contexts where women can perform as well as men, given the chance. The business world. (The glass ceiling, unfortunately, does exist. And far too few women shatter it.) The academic world. In certain arenas of the sports world.

Women are even on the rise in politics. (Not that I am particularly fond of most of the women on the rise in politics, but that's a different blog for a different day)

Anyway, last night I think I figured out why--aside from the aforementioned ideas I may have been a little vocal about--I became labeled as such a feminist. And it kind of made me laugh a little.

I refuse to ask a man to help me do anything I'm sure I can do myself.

But this doesn't make me any sort of feminist, because this behavior isn't restricted to just men. I refuse to ask anybody to help me do anything I'm sure I can do myself.

So here's the situation: my roommate and I have a new roommate moving in next Wednesday, and she is moving into my room. I am moving into the same room as my current roommate. We like having three roomies, because rent is cheaper. But that involves sharing, and our new roommate (who we dearly, dearly wanted to be the one to move in with us) had one requirement: her own room.

Anyway, I was more than happy to accommodate, but I didn't think about how I'd have to move my furniture. My bed, desk, and dresser will relocate to their new home in the other bedroom. And the bookshelves would have to be removed to the living room. (Which makes them a conversation topic for everyone who visits, because everyone is guaranteed to ask "Who reads this much?")

A week ago, I had removed all of the books from my bookshelves because my home teachers were supposed to visit. And since I was recently informed that men like to feel "manly useful" (which involves moving things and not, say, showing someone how to use a fickle digital piano as an organ for sacrament meeting), I thought I would help boost their egos by asking them to help me move the shelves.

Except they rescheduled. And so the books have rested, lined up in tidy rows on my floor, for a week. I didn't want to re-shelve them until the shelves were in their new places. Besides, the home teachers had rescheduled to four days in the future. I could wait till then. And by boosting his ego, I would feel I'd restored some of the confidence I'd unintentionally shattered when I talked to the new home teacher. (I may have--unintentionally--implied that he was wimpy, out-of-shape, and ignorant. Let me again emphasize--unintentional!! Don't worry--it has been duly noted that I need to exercise my filter a little more than I did.) But then they canceled.

Anyway, last night I decided that the bookshelves needed to move. They needed to move right then. And I could hardly expect my home teachers to show up spontaneously. Besides, I had a distinct impression I could move them on my own.

It would be a lie to say that moving them was one of the easiest things I've ever done, but it would also be lying to say it was one of the hardest. And they are tall shelves, so calling it a little awkward might be employing a little litote.

But I moved them. What can I say? As I told my roommate, I was having an I-am-woman, hear-me-roar kind of moment. And I didn't want to have to wait for a man in order to do something I could do perfectly well all by myself.

I blame my parents. They raised us to be as independent as we could possibly be. But let it be known: independence and feminism are not the same things.

(And unfortunately, I do need help to move the desk. So I'll try to be a good child and help my home teachers feel manly useful.)