Men Explain Things to Me.

I hesitated at first when I read the description for this weeks blog post assignment. I read the Rebecca Solnit article and was immediately flooded with a bunch of memories of "mansplaining." Here's what immediately came to mind!

My brother is about seven years older than me, and very well educated despite not finishing his college degree. I love my brother dearly, but he has a terrible habit of explaining to both my mother and I every little detail and issue in just about any topic we bring up. No matter how much reading we've done, whether or not we're watched the same news update on it as he did, he'll cut us off and give us his opinion while simultaneously waving his arms in a fashion that suggests that CNN taught him everything he needs to know on this topic. It really wasn't until I started college that I began to assert myself as an intellectual equal to my brother. Now, when we're both home from college and whatever he's doing out in Los Angeles, I fire back with what I've learned.

The second person I immediately thought of was my last boyfriend. He was a very talented musician, and would take it upon himself to properly educate me on classical music. I remember one day in particular. After about a month or two of letting him explain to me when and why Bach wrote the St. Johns Passion, or why different voice types sing different arias, I finally said to him, "Matt, I got into five of the best music schools in New York State, I've been studying classical music since the sixth grade, and I know all about that Faure aria because I sang it at my recital last weekend, the one you happened to attend." He stood there looking at me with his mouth open and then said "Geez, what's wrong with you today?" I held my tongue, even though I wanted to tell him that nothing was wrong with me, I was simply fed up with acting dumber than I actually am.

There's a pattern in both of these stories that I, along with Rebecca Solnit, am all too familiar with. The need for credibility is strong. Solnit calls it, "a basic survival tool." It took me eighteen years to tell my brother that I, too, watch CNN and read the NY Times. It took the entirety of my last relationship for me to realize that it was both exhausting and infuriating to have to act like I don't know what I'm talking about. What I often realize is that, like the "bad" feminist I am, I still allow myself to do this, simply because sometimes it's just easier to let my male co-worker explain to me how to properly stack boxes in the storage room than have him call me a bitch for telling him that I already know how to do it. It's an internal battle I often find myself waging, but on one hand I am reminded that I am constantly educating myself simply so that when I do come into these sorts of situations, I know that I can contribute in a thoughtful and intellectual manner, and assert myself in the conversation in a way that is both polite and  paves the way for a meaningful conversation.


-Bridget Doyle