Man, Knitting
Guys, patriarchy sucks. No, seriously.
I forget, sometimes, about patriarchy because I'm kind of part of it. The gay thing keeps me from being an MVP in the club -- but because of a decided lack of fabulousness in my life, I'm not often pegged for queer right off the bat. I'm an unwitting beneficiary of a pretty crappy system.
That is, until I pull out my knitting.
I'm never been more aware of my gender than when I've been somewhere public and started working on my stockinette stitch. All of a sudden, I feel like I'm breaking every rule, only not in a cool way with Europe blaring The Final Countdown (which, PS, has the longest intro ever and just when you think the over-permed lead singer is about to belt out the opening lyrics he totally fakes out, purses his lips, and makes you wait a little longer. He'll definitely be part of my thesis) in the background. I feel exposed and a little unsafe -- which is another side-effect of patriarchy because hi: I'm just a guy with some yard and I feel unsafe? Try being a woman walking to her car at night, Mike, and then come talk to us all about this "unsafe" of which you speak.
But there it is. I feel my masculinity challenged when I'm sitting in public, knitting one and purling two. And it's not like I'm all that aware of my masculinity to begin with, especially after sitting in the living room last night with Stephen Sondheim's Finishing the Hat on auto-repeat. I have to do that kind of music listening alone and in secret, lest Zach hear it and fly into a Sondheim-induced rage. And maybe that's the trick: public vs. private in regards to "masculinity" and "femininity." For the most part, I'm very careful, even without really thinking about it, with my perceived masculinity. Zach and I aren't terribly demonstrative in public; I wouldn't ever blast Sunday in the Park with George loudly from a boom box at a bus stop. I was breaking my own self-regulated rule, thus breaking the much larger patriarchy-induced rule. And it made me anxious.
This means I have to knit more in public.
Gloria Steinam said she believed that an army of quiet, gray-haired women would quietly take over the world. I expect those quiet, gray-haired women are going to need things like hats and scarves. We'd best get started.
I forget, sometimes, about patriarchy because I'm kind of part of it. The gay thing keeps me from being an MVP in the club -- but because of a decided lack of fabulousness in my life, I'm not often pegged for queer right off the bat. I'm an unwitting beneficiary of a pretty crappy system.
That is, until I pull out my knitting.
I'm never been more aware of my gender than when I've been somewhere public and started working on my stockinette stitch. All of a sudden, I feel like I'm breaking every rule, only not in a cool way with Europe blaring The Final Countdown (which, PS, has the longest intro ever and just when you think the over-permed lead singer is about to belt out the opening lyrics he totally fakes out, purses his lips, and makes you wait a little longer. He'll definitely be part of my thesis) in the background. I feel exposed and a little unsafe -- which is another side-effect of patriarchy because hi: I'm just a guy with some yard and I feel unsafe? Try being a woman walking to her car at night, Mike, and then come talk to us all about this "unsafe" of which you speak.
But there it is. I feel my masculinity challenged when I'm sitting in public, knitting one and purling two. And it's not like I'm all that aware of my masculinity to begin with, especially after sitting in the living room last night with Stephen Sondheim's Finishing the Hat on auto-repeat. I have to do that kind of music listening alone and in secret, lest Zach hear it and fly into a Sondheim-induced rage. And maybe that's the trick: public vs. private in regards to "masculinity" and "femininity." For the most part, I'm very careful, even without really thinking about it, with my perceived masculinity. Zach and I aren't terribly demonstrative in public; I wouldn't ever blast Sunday in the Park with George loudly from a boom box at a bus stop. I was breaking my own self-regulated rule, thus breaking the much larger patriarchy-induced rule. And it made me anxious.
This means I have to knit more in public.
Gloria Steinam said she believed that an army of quiet, gray-haired women would quietly take over the world. I expect those quiet, gray-haired women are going to need things like hats and scarves. We'd best get started.
posted by Mike at 11:26 AM
1 Comments:
Try to remember (if you're old enough; if not, then be advised) that Rosey Grier, widely regarded as being well-endowed with all the accoutrements associated with Y-chromosomes, caused a sensation when he not only took up needlepoint, but publicized the hell out of doing so. You mightn't be so self-conscious.
Do not, however, listen to Sondheim. Not for any sexual-orientation-type reason. Just don't. In short, tell Zach to un-boil his head; All Is Forgiven.
Now, on to the next post.
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