Dear Friend and Reader,
Did you ever hear that phrase, “a woman’s work is never done?” It’s part of an English proverb, and it’s a pretty depressing thought, harking back to times when heterosexual gender roles were far more rigid (I’m talking about the Western world here) and wives and mothers were expected to manage all the household and child rearing duties. Most of our grandfathers had no idea how to change a diaper.
Some places find the shift towards equal gender roles to be harrowing: in Ireland, for example, the switch to modernity was more like ripping off a band-aid than the waves and swells we experienced in the US. This quick switch has left a lot of young men on unsure footing; they lost the macho, breadwinning, “get your father his slippers, he’s had a long day” role that so many grew up with. And they’re killing themselves over it.
On our side of the pond, though, men have had a little more time to stew on the low burner. I have two degrees in gender studies, so I’m trained to fight the inequality in favor of a 50-50 partnership. Part of the reason I love being gay so much is because the roles aren’t prescribed; things tend to parcel out based on who you are, what you’re good at, what you absolutely hate doing: not the sex you were born with.
At the same time, there seems to be a problem with the idea of halfsies. Part of the reason why the change happened is economics: most households are unable to sustain themselves on a single salary, so wifey is out working too. And, as far as we’ve come, studies still show that, in a heterosexual cohabiting situation, women still do the majority of the housework.
So what you’re left with is a woman, during the third wave of feminism, doing more work than she’s ever done before, and a man doing more work as well, because now he has to do the vacuuming. But who’s saying “thank you?” We’re all so exhausted, it becomes hard to dish out any acknowledgments, a lot of the time we’re just sitting around waiting to get some for ourselves. And this seems to be particularly true for men, because they’re entitled to that loss. If they were born 80 years earlier, it would be praise all the way.В Back then, we couldn’t survive without their contribution. Now they’ve got more work and an “equal” partner.
From this perspective emerges a woman you never have to say thank you to. She’s got the perfect body, silicone breasts and feminine features. She never eats, she’ll do light housework, she’ll do your taxes, she speaks two languages. And she never has to sleep. Her name is Aiko, she’s an android, andВ Inventor Le Trung, 33,В in Canada has spent his life savings building her. In the video available at the above link, it is demonstrated that she doesn’t like it when you grab her breasts.
What does it mean when a partner is reduced to their technical attributes? It’s like the Neil Young song, “A Man Needs A Maid.” Is it more important to have someone, or something, cook for you or clean your house? You can get a robot to hug you, to respond to a program and say “I love you too,” if that’s what you want. You can make a thing that would be perfect for you. But there’s an inherent emptiness in that, isn’t there?
I was talking to my friend last night, he’s in his mid-twenties and he’s never been in a relationship. He told me he just doesn’t want to compromise his lifestyle for a girl; he doesn’t want to be with someone who isn’t into what he’s into, who won’t understand what he’s all about — he’s really into computers, programming, online gaming, that kind of thing. But, while we may scoff and think an android would be perfect for him, I have to say I disagree. We need people in our lives; the real ones, with flesh, and inconvenient timing and irrational love. And dealing with this, and getting frustrated when things don’t work out, elated when it all fits perfectly — that’s the essence of being human.
The imbalance of work in the home, the struggle of having to share the role as breadwinner or getting home after a long day at work and having to clean up the garbage that the dog knocked over; that’s part of our modern day world. We could live in houses like it’s Ray Bradbury’s There Will Come Soft Rains, but it continues on whether you’re dead or alive. Just something to think about.
So I’d like to propose that we don’t need a maid, or an anatomically-perfect robot. We just need each other.
Yours & truly,
Rachel Asher
Tachi… re-seeing: “Antes de ti, no tengo celos…”
>In front of you, I am not jealous<
…is closer, eh? I saw the tense when I looked again at the rest of the poem, which is a long list of allllll of the men she comes wearing and bearing on her: a hundred men in her hair, a man on her back, a thousand men between her breasts and her feet, choked like a river with all of the men who have drowned in her.
*Then* he says it doesn’t matter, it is just the two of them, no matter what.
Awrighty Pete, ‘cept for that cute dancer over there stage left.
*8^D
Actually, it goes
“antes de ti”
not “me.” Different sense entirely.
“Before you, I was not jealous.”
But I *do* admire your taste.
Still, you know he didn’t really mean it. While Neruda was writing this to –presumably his third wife, Matilde– he was also chasing my old friend Waldeen, one of Graham’s dancers married to a Mexican theatre director.
I adore LatAm poetry, but the men were pure Vogue. Strike a pose, Pepe…
m
Dead, huh… well that’s a little different, and suicided is even more so. I have some personal experience with derailing such a scene, and too recently (October). Remember the fun I was having in Scorpio…?
And 99% of the time it is out of anyone’s hands. It’s written into the lifescript – and nothing will erase it.
As for the ‘tug’ with the deceased, there’s a 49 day period of transition for the fieles difuntes (happy dead); I am under the impression it is longer for suicides. I don’t know what else to say but ::
llegense a mirar
como he perdido entera
en este lagrimon
mi fiesta verdadera
(g.mistral)
V. Did I say anything about “the one”? I am a confirmed (though quite lazy) polyerotic. And, whether “in” love or just near it, I *always* feel loved. It’s weird how people think that intensity in passion is to be restricted to one person. That may be true if your objective is control. But if your objective is delight and gnosis, then I recommend more and merrier.
But you sounded in earlier posts as though you are (were) still in a more poignant space. Did I misread you? Or are you simply shifting at lightspeed?
Oh Tachikata, Grammy was my favorite. She’s like where it all really started for me. I am living in her house, 125 years old.
And I’m more pissed off about my loss than anything else. His brains ended up on his bathroom wall. Don’t ask, played the guessing game with friends for a long time. You never really know. And be glad that you don’t or you would be in the same shoes he wore, whatever those were.
Ya well, that’s scary. “I’m someone’s heart’s desire.” It’s the “one” that would be scary. Being desired, I’m not sure about that right now in the one category. I’m not so focussed. A bit of a juggler. Many lines make an interesting web.
V… I am saying that what you SEE in the other is always looking at you. It is the ‘third space charm’ (smile) that is both of you, and at the same time belongs (beloves? is what I first wrote) to Aphrodite and her cohort. Which I why Alegra and I put Lady A in the invocation of her Nuptials. She rules the whole deal, and don’t think She won’t smack you down if you try to leave Her prerogative out.
The always-delicate-point is the instant you recognize what you love, without yanking on it. The touch can go from just breathing on it to tapping it gently. Ask Lady A to show you how.
Once the yanking begins, it is very hard to put that genie back in the bottle (oh, the wilds of the mixed metaphor…). You cannot *make* anyone “love” you, and once you have started down that path, you know it has turned into a different relationship. Like suddenly dumping too much salt in the cake recipe, it has all of the previous ingredients: eggs, flour, sugar . . . but it won’t rise and it will be bitter with every bite.
You can smell the vanilla in the air, you can remember the sweetness, you can sit and count the cracked eggs on the counter, but the flavor, once the question of love becomes a form of control, will always taste like the deep blue sea. . . Tears.
***
Take heart, Victoria. Everywhere you look – someone wants to be loved. As soon as you notice you have stopped counting eggshells, when the shape of that particular cake only reminds you of seasalt, it’ll be time to start noticing who has rolled that delicate line over to your fingertips. We’re alive in a web of others’ dreaming. It never stops. You *are* someone’s heart’s desire.
Sure alot of stuff going on here. Steve’s okay, that’s good. Any tips to bring my dead Father back to my Mother in her dimentiated state? She would be happy for about 15 minutes.
So mystes, you are saying if the other is not at the other end of the line, there is no love ? If the tug is not returned, there is no love?
The only reason, I ask is that alot of people carry torches for a very very very long time. Or would that be obsessing?
And Tachikata, I’m still having ptsd over the sudden exit of my last love, so I am in no man land. But I do understand what you are saying. So maybe what we are (or I was, cuz I really don’t know much of anything now) looking at is a life partner, not a love partner. Does that make sense? But what I really want to know from you frollicking in the field you play in, is it better to be the lover or the lovee? Loving is a wonderful exhilerating feeling, but being loved comes with a responsibility of sorts?
He’s taking flaxseed but I’ll look up the German Woebenzymes!!
My mother is going to talk to the head nurse about what he said – i think they need to monitor progress and perhaps the other girl will benefit too!
Happy travelling – and stop by to see me sometime!
“Remyelination” is coming through loud and clear on your brother. He, along with other Caps in institutional situations, are going to go through a rebirth within the next six months.
I saw this BIG in one of my travels last night (they’re not dreams anymore, I am fully conscious in most of them as I approach my own 90Вє angle this life).
If you want to help that along, plug him into some nice German Woebenzymes with a hit of flaxseed oil 2-3x a day. Make sure they go down together at least once. Breastmilk would be *the* thing, but we’re too weird to let that happen, howsoever sensible it would be.
Goes double for the honey with the MS who just checked in.
Neptune is *on* in my world right now. Lights are soft up but clear.
m
Hi Mystes, I’m so happy you are contributing again! I was going to respond to Genevieve’s post yesterday too, but then didn’t. I was thinking about the humans who pass through our lives that we let go. Genevieve’s only alternative with the critters would have been to send them to market, yet look what she has done with them – teaching so many people how to live frugally and in peaceful co-existence with the earth. They may be somewhat a burden, but isn’t everything that is worth having.
The nursing home girl even brought her kids in to play with Steve – sort of put him back in touch with pan didn’t it?
After reading Genevieve’s post yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the people and situations I’ve known and been in, where someone had to remain devoted to another with physical and mental impairments, with no hope of improvement.
I was hoping that by telling Steve’s story that many good thoughts and prayers would go his way. He actually told me that since starting a medication for another problem 4 months ago, he feels something going on with his legs and right hand, and some days he can use his right hand a little. I suspect the nerve sheath is healing in his brain.
Then it wasn’t love.
V… you might think of ‘longing’ as a cord stretched between you and the object of your desire. When you tug on it too hard, the “other” only feels yanked, not pulled. You just tap it from time to time, then give him/her plenty of space/time to a) notice, b) savor the tap, c) savor the savoring, d) feel the cord between their fingers and x) return the tug. Know that *what you see is looking at you*. Always. There is *no such thing* as unrequited love/desire, but sometimes you have to give it lots of space to resonate to your interest. If you see It in him/her, s/he sees It in you. Period.
Let me say this again: there is only “so much” energy available in a desire connection. If you hog it all, s/he (your love interest) can’t *feel* it, cause you’re all over it. If you pull too hard, you will not destroy It, but you’re demonstrating that you just don’t trust It. No trust, no love-made-flesh. Capiche?
Eric’s writing in the Book of Blue gives some valuable hints about how this is felt/done. He sees a possibility, knows his own tendency to obsess, offsets that by focusing, launching a certain quality of ‘possible,’ then waits to see how the Other responds. It’s pretty masterful, but he’s focused on keeping his own emotional body in balance. Not in extracting a particular effect.
kissies a tous…
m
Mystes, I think so, or hope so, too. It is such an exciting story.
But what happens to us when the other does not come around? Does anyone care to address the subject of longing?
Mark Epstein, the Budhism meets psychology guy, writes that the answer is not in the object of our desire, but in the desire.
Any thoughts on longing would be good to hear.
Gardener… Tell Steve to be patient (like he has a choice?) and not despair. She’ll come around, just give it about 90 days. And keep his angst private, pour it into his writing or painting (he draws, right?).
I’d send this privately, but it needs the loft of the group attention. He is going to be happy.
M
Also – as to the girl my brother loves, she really loved him too – most likely for personality and mind. Sometimes we love people and can’t imagine why. Must be some past life association or energy that needs to be met – but anyway – the realization must have scared her a bit. Steve is a Capricorn with Chiron in Capricorn, so I remain hopeful that the coming conjunctions will bring him healing rather than more pain. I love the movie ‘my left foot’ because it reminds me of Steve. He has only limited use of his left hand.
My brother is in a nursing home, 100 percent dependent on nurses and aides for his care. He wanted to give one of the aides a gift basket. My mother and I both tried to discourage him. He confessed to me how in love he was with this woman. She was tirelessly friendly, lived close-by, and even brought her children in to visit. They had fun pushing him around the nursing home in his wheelchair.
We made up the basket, and he gave her the gift…. and has barely seen her since. She is embarrassed and certainly did not have reciprocal feelings. Even though he’s confined to a lifeless body, my brother has feelings and needs. he is 51. He said to me this week that a girl with MS who is only 35 was brought into the nursing home this week. He has only feelings of the deepest sorrow for the girl.
He may need a maid, but he wants a woman. I offered to make up gift baskets for the other nurses to make it ok again, and he said no it wasn’t necessary. It’s been 3 weeks now, and today he was resigned to just needing a maid, but he was really grateful for the toasted ezekiel bread & fried organic egg sandwich and homemade chocolate chip cookies from his loving sister. It isn’t quite the same thing though, is it? I think he would have died of pure happiness being pushed around by those children for the next few years.
Rachel, excellent post. Your conclusion couldn’t be more correct. As for work, I think perhaps too much is made of housework. It isn’t like we have to haul the clothes down to the creek and scrub them on the washboard, and few people have to split wood and kindling for a fire in the cookstove. Life as we know it in the USA is good.
” Most curious of all is the concept of the self which the ego fosters in the special relationship. This “self” seeks the relationship to make itself complete. Yet when it finds the special relationship in which it thinks it can accomplish this it gives itself away and tries to “trade” itself for the self of another. This is not union, for there is no increase and no extension. Each partner tries to sacrifice the self he does not want for one he thinks he would prefer. And he feels guilty for the “sin” of taking, and of giving nothing in return. How much value can he place upon a self that he would give away to get a “better” one? ”
~j
A maid would be nice. And I do love my handyman. The more I work with him, the more capable I become at doing those jobs myself.
But a maid would be nice. I really fall short when it comes to the 24 hour woman. However, do they do it. You forgot the part where they have to run the kids to practice and activities every night of the week. So many demands.
A woman I worked with some years ago told me a story about her husband complaining that the wash wasn’t done. When she took her shower she threw his clothes in the tub, squirted some detergent on them and stomped on them and told him his clothes had been washed and were in the tub. Norma Ray (or was it Rae) had a good scene in it when her husband confronted her about her shirking of household responsibilities.
I really don’t know about that one partnership. There are so many partnerships in life. Life is so full. I suppose it could happen. But you are right about the expectations. I’ve never been able to do it right enough. I don’t try anymore and I think that is key for me. And taking sex out of the equation, what’s the difference in any freewheeling, heartfelt, gut level, soul searching relationship. We go to our depths with each other and both finish at the same time.
We’re looking for something different in our one on ones? I watch my 15 year old niece in her first relationship. I listen to her. She told me about Zoe and Zach. They had a fight, but they worked through it and now they are so much closer. One example. I think the kids are gonna be alright. They are communicating like mad.
Hey – thanks! Very interesting article…. just a sort of technical request – in the 2nd paragraph of Rachel’s article there’s a link to a 52 page pdf about suicide rates in Ireland, and their possible causes. Any chance in situations like this that you could link to the specific page you’re referencing, as I’m not likely to read the entire doc?
Just a thought. Keep up the good work,
DA
Great post, Rachel. Given that you are lesbian and I am queer who passes for hetero or hetero who passes for queer — that is, I am drawn to primary relationship with women but I don’t fit any known sexual or gender mold, that I have ever read about — I would like to point out the challenges of that.
I personally find that the expectations are still very strong that 1) the old sex roles will be honored (i.e., I am expected to provide for women) but that 2) I must honor the independence of women (i.e., and also not expect to be taken care of). I think this is a difficult time for aware men because the paradigm is changing predominantly for women, and it is men who must endure the brunt of the arrangement: women have indeed been treated unfairly and violently under patriarchy; men do have a responsibility to cede power and aid in their sisters’ transition to full personhood; and we all need to be looked after, to some extent. It is difficult to find a balance.
Janis Joplin, in one of her concerts, once gave a rant about men always needing to go off to Timbuktu. She griped that they never want to enjoy time at home; time being together. This is how I feel about women, in my own life. They are always getting ready to go off somewhere; always on the move. I have done a fair bit of moving around, but I would have stayed anywhere I could have made a real home with a partner. Part of why I have chosen to stay in one place is to facilitate this process; to be available and to have a chance to get to know people over time.
It is absolutely necessary that women find their freedom; that they do what Simone de Beauvoir called TRANSCEND: formerly, a privilege reserved only for men, and with the burden of that put on the backs of women. I think we could go through this complicated transition a lot more easily, if we were actually awake — and unfortunately most people are not. Most of us do not question our values. So what we get are many, many layers of unconscious expectations that are impossible to consider or fulfill precisely because they are unconscious. Combined with incredible restlessness because the old roles are not working. The old relationship frameworks are not able to contain our energy, our changes, our needs, and the truth about how we feel.
The paradox I present to women is: I will love you, be honest with you and be loyal to you, and I will do what I can for you; I will recognize the whole person that you are; I need you to allow me to be who I am, which involves honoring (not tolerating) the fact that I love other women, and share direct communication with them; and I want you to be with me because you want to be with me, not for some ulterior motive (I will skip the list of the possibilities). This is calling for REALITY and not faking, as so often happens in heterosexual relationships: games of roleplaying that are based on the prescribed roles that you are able to avoid, in part, because you are an identifiable form of queer; and in part because you are conscious.
We are between several paradigms in gender and sex relations. I think that at best we can say there is a measure of gender identity chaos and at the same time, a kind of clinging to old roles because we don’t know what to do without them. Once you give up those roles, you are in unknown territory, and that calls for awareness, creativity and willingness to experiment — which means the willingness to try and fail and try again. Outside the prescribed gender roles, we actually have to allow one another be who we are, which means having the willingness to BE who we are.
I earn my keep as a counselor to women; I have for about 14 years. I hear many of them ask the universe for men who seem willing to be emotionally and sexually open. And I see many, many women panic when met with just precisely that. We think it’s safer and easier to be shut down. It is neither.
Re. the Neil Young song, it’s one of my favorites. I’ve had Decade in my car for months, so I keep hearing it. I don’t think it’s a song about needing a maid; it’s a song about lost love. He is considering having a maid because the boundaries in the relationship are defined; both people would know what to expect. There could be a trusting situation created based on those very clear expectations, unlike everything else he’s going through. He is expressing a reluctance to become emotionally involved with someone, still in the midst of a huge loss.
I don’t think the irony of the song title is lost on him. He knows he needs much more. He seems willing to offer that. He seems eager to find someone who is willing to “be part of.”
There are women I love dearly to whom I would ask not only, “When will I see you again?” but so, how come I feel like I’m never going to see you again?
“A Man Needs A Maid”
My life is changing
in so many ways
I don’t know who
to trust anymore
There’s a shadow running
thru my days
Like a beggar going
from door to door.
I was thinking that
maybe I’d get a maid
Find a place nearby
for her to stay.
Just someone
to keep my house clean,
Fix my meals and go away.
A maid. A man needs a maid.
A maid.
It’s hard to make that change
When life and love
turns strange.
And old.
To give a love,
you gotta live a love.
To live a love,
you gotta be “part of”
When will I see you again?
A while ago somewhere
I don’t know when
I was watching
a movie with a friend.
I fell in love with the actress.
She was playing a part
that I could understand.
A maid. A man needs a maid.
A maid.
When will I see you again?