By Hailey Ford
Disclaimer: Believe it or not, this letter has not actually been penned by a man, but a female satire writer. Gotcha!
Dear reader,
In honour of Women’s History Month, I have a few suggestions to provide to my fellow men. Ladies, avert your eyes.
I was walking with a female friend one day. She stopped, sighed and said she’d yet again been passed up for promotion at work. They told her she was too valuable to move and that her boss’ 17-year-old nephew was just a much better fit for the role.
“Glass ceilings, man,” she sighed to me.
At that moment, I knew I had to take charge of the situation. My eyes were opened. Of all the issues women had to deal with, this seemed the simplest. I don’t completely know why skylights are such an issue but clearly, they are.
They keep women contained, confined—their pretty little butterfly wings can’t fan out and fly. Poor architectural choices shall no longer be the bane of my fellow colleagues of the superior sex.
I have a hammer. Mom gave it to me when I left for school. So it’s really just a case of women helping women.
Women are strong but violence is a male language, making this a problem we are uniquely positioned to fix. See a skylight? Toss ‘er up and let the jagged shards shower you with progress.
I no longer have conversations with that friend of mine. Entirely my choice.
See, I’ve been called out for mansplaining more than a few times. That’s when a man explains something to a woman that she already knows. Women often interpret it as “disrespectful” so we as men should probably avoid that.
But I want to take it a step further. I have so much respect for women. So much. I have no desire to be seen as better, more knowledgeable, more worldly or more informed than any woman in my life. Because I’m not.
To solve this, I simply avoid explaining things or speaking to women as much as possible. Direct question? Smile and point to the nearest woman. Solved. Lady stranded by the side of the road with her car on fire? She has it under control. Trust her.
I was recently given the opportunity to train some of the new hires at the grocery store where I work. I refused to speak a single word to any of the women. They did not need my help, they did not need my explanation. Now, they go silent when I walk into the break room. I know in my heart of hearts that it’s because they truly know and respect what I’ve been trying to do for them. Equity, not equality.
It may be hard to believe, and it may be difficult to let go, but I can promise you, women will be better off because we ignore them.
The last one, I admit, I was a little stuck. Glass is breakable and silence is an effective remedy to condescension.
However, period cramps. Those are a tough one. And I have to break my silence sometimes to solve it. But rest assured, I found a solution.
I lived in a residence back in first year. My roommate was a woman. Like clockwork, once a month she would be sobbing in bed, arms clutched over her stomach. My heart burst for her. Each and every time it happened, I felt as though my very own soul was being torn out with each cramp she suffered.
I’m not a dumb man, truly, I’m not. Sections of my early high school health classes came slipping through the cracks, teasing me with information I could offer to help her. Better than any pill or hot water bottle.
I know how sex works. I know that pregnancy offers up nine months of period-free bliss. So I offered.
“At least take me out to dinner first,” she laughed. “Seriously dude, I appreciate the sentiment, but no.”
I imagine that at the right time, with the right person, this will be a lot more effective. To husbands looking to reduce the suffering of their wives, I believe pregnancy may be one of your best options for short-term pain relief.
So now you see, my fellow men, it isn’t so difficult to become an ally. I’ve become a gift to women. It works. And you should do it too.
So, happy Women’s History Month. Or as I like to call it—every waking moment of my life.
Cheers,
Bryan
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