Brendan Seery.
I do understand why some people might think I am a male chauvinist pig. It’s probably the jokes … Like the time my mother-in-law expressed her absolute amazement that her daughter brings me tea in bed every morning: “So, you buy a dog and you must bark yourself?” was my reply…
Then, some years ago, the women on a newspaper where I worked were struck dumb at the elaborate and wonderful lunches my wife prepares for me.
They made the mistake of asking: “Why does your wife do this?”
“Because she’s grateful …”
They were spitting mad, mainly because subtle humour was beyond them. But they also had no idea about the relationship between my wife and I.
And I got my own back on them a few weeks later, when one of them approached me, on Valentine’s Day and snarled: “And what did you get your wife for Valentine’s Day?”
“A car, actually…”
I am not sexist, but being your average male, I am lazy, and will do as little as possible around the house. But when it comes to the really important things in life, I think I treat my wife as an equal. (More so, in fact, because once she puts her mind to something, even in her sweet way, it is just better to go with the flow.)
Children and how to raise them, the house to buy, where to spend (and save) the money – all of that is a joint decision, because marriage should be a partnership of two, equal, halves.
I can’t understand those couples who keep their individual pennies strictly apart, nor where the husband doles out an allowance to his wife.
I am wary of men who proclaim themselves feminists. I worked with a pair of them (editors, actually), who used to proclaim their support for equality, yet stood together one day watching a female reporter walk through the newsroom.
“Bit wide in the saddle, that one,” said the one, provoking guffaws from his colleague.
So, I am aware I am making a target of myself when I say I do not have a problem with working with, or for, women. And that attitude came from years of watching my mother, a brilliant and capable woman, running an office while the lazy white men got the money and the credit.
I saw a number of women like that in newspapers over the years – but the ones who didn’t play the game didn’t get very far. And by the game, I mean that little sexual teasing dance between the men (usually the bosses) and the women (who wanted to go places). You could call it exploitation, but you could equally call it willing-buyer, willing-seller commerce.
I understand things are still stacked against women. I know intelligent, capable women running their own companies who have been reduced to the “girl getting the drinks” at corporate meetings. Women get paid less.
I know husbands don’t do nearly enough to support their partners or raise their kids (mea culpa, there…) And, in this country, there are far too many absentee fathers.
We need to tell our young girls: Never let yourself be defined by a man. You are the equal of any man. If you do allow him into your life, make sure he understands that a capable, intelligent, independent woman is his gift from heaven … a gift that will get even better as she ages.
But make sure you house-train him … especially when it comes to early morning coffee.
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