Manning up Requires Understanding Women
We can’t grow as men, unless we understand the emotional labour women go through — and help them get rid of it.
This is a scene that plays out regularly, during recent years:
Here I am, munching on my breakfast and minding my own business, when my wife starts describing her ideas about our son’s birthday party decoration. A party that comes in more than three months.
My mind’s inertia is no news to me. Lost into my own thoughts, I struggle to catch up with hers. Instead, I silently marvel: when does she come up with those things?
If I set out to remember, the memory will be as follows: the night before. I am lying in bed, watching Mad Max: Fury Road, on Netflix. She is also lying in bed, browsing Pinterest. Cakes. Ribbons. Decor. Okay, back to the movie, please…
Wait. So, that was work she was doing?
Yes. That was the research needed to set up a party for our child. To decide about its theme. To break down the decoration. To write down the logistics. To plan the arrangements.
Arrangements that, the next morning, I agree — with a grunt — to execute, when she hands me a shopping list. A piece of paper with instructions. I will hardly use my brain for my son’s birthday party.
This is my story. I phase out. I grunt. I follow instructions.
It’s called “emotional labour”
I didn’t know what emotional labour is. Even if the term has been around for decades, I am sure I share the same ignorance with many other men out there. Women, too. And ignoring its existence is a big part of the problem related to it.
So, I read about it. The more I read, the more I nodded. It made sense. Moreover, I recognised it in my life.
It is something my mother did. It is something my wife does.
Ignoring it is something my father did. It is something I do.
What is it?
One of the best definitions I found for it was “the invisible work of caring.” I saw it in The Stupid-Easy Guide to Emotional Labor by Tracy Moore and it gave me a rule of thumb for recognising it.
Women tend and agree to undertake tasks invisible to men. Tasks related to organising, managing, tidying up. They do this much more than men do, solely because of a dominant narrative suggesting that (1) women are better than men at caring and (2) women enjoy caring more than men do.
Men see their world go round without realising the backstage work required — and done by women — for it.
Unless conscious of how patriarchy works — many women shoulder this labour without realising it. Patriarchal upbringing conditions girls to provide care for everybody and boys to ignore that it happens. Women experience this as undertaking and juggling an exhausting amount of tasks, without even questioning why they do it. It is no wonder that this juggling comes with frustration and anger — often unexpressed.
We, men, don’t know why women are angry at us. And when we are repeatedly told why, we choose retreating back to our convenient ignorance.
It’s not “the time of the month”
Where I come from, some country in Europe, it is common lore that “women naturally complain about everything.” Men “know” this and joke about it. They dismiss women’s claims as part of their complaining nature.
It is no joke.
Attributing every complaint to a “traditionally female behaviour” is actually one of patriarchy’s most powerful weapons.
By reducing a valid claim to stereotypical nagging, men take away all its meaning and power. The only thing that remains is “an annoying behaviour.” Men can then shake it off, saying “women are grumpy complainers,” and move on with their lives.
We characterise women as unstable and hysteric. As hormone-driven. As people who worry too much. Who want everything done perfectly. Who are never happy. Such affirmations help us excuse ourselves from seeing emotional labour. And the system remains broken, perfectly slanted to the favour of men.
My father never worries — he always had my mother for that.
My mother never trusted my dad for even the slightest task concerning the household, health, and safety. Whenever we left the house for holidays, she wanted to be the last person to exit. She meticulously turned off main switches of water and power, bolted windows, and locked all doors, while my dad and I waited for her in the car, making fun of her worrying nature.
She did not think of my dad as useless. She always thought, for example, that he was — still is — a good professional. As far as the house was concerned, though, she always considered him irresponsible and careless.
This meant not only the pre-holiday lockdown routine, but also doctor’s appointments, everyday food arrangements, house cleaning, and more. My mother would be the manager of the whole household. And, yes, she also worked two jobs — just like my dad.
She cared and worried about our health and safety, while my dad did not.
I grew up seeing this example of emotional labour that my mother undertook. Instead of manning up and taking responsibility, my dad accepted his position as the irresponsible and let my mother do the worrying, the tidying up, and the organising.
On top of that, he made fun of her for being a worrier. I see how unfair that is. He still doesn’t.
I see myself about to tread the same path
I can see the flawed dynamic between my parents, but it took a while to see it between my wife and me.
After 8 years together, my wife complains that no fun ideas come from me. That I forget appointments. That I don’t take initiatives. That she has to think about everything concerning our home, our vacations, our dates.
And she is right.
Of course, I refused to see it, at first. I used my classic excuses: (1) having a confused and unproductive professional life for a decade and a half and (2) having suppressed my career aspirations to stay home with the kids.
Both of them true. Still, none of them truly excuses me from being self-centred.
I may have problems, as an individual. I may have made some bad professional choices. (That’s an understatement. I actually had a professional death wish, for decades.)
But we need to get things done. A relationship can’t wait for the individuals to get their shit together. It needs intentions and actions right now. And even more, it needs the people involved to be able to see and appreciate what the others do.
I haven’t magically turned myself to a model partner. Far from it.
I have merely started seeing my wife’s emotional labour.
How can we help?
Ignoring it is very convenient for us men. We get away with less chores — isn’t that great?
Ignoring emotional labour, though, perpetuates the patriarchal status quo. The women in our lives are angry and our relationships suffer.
Not to mention that having your wife take care of everything in your life is downright immature. Grow up, you baby!—said I to myself.
Sure, I can execute my wife’s ideas. I can even focus on doing it more promptly. But that’s not enough. I want to relieve her from being the only one who cares.
Sharing the caring. That’s what I want to do.
I want to do things about our home. Come up with ideas. Take initiatives. Solve problems. Plan holidays. Arrange a surprise date night.
But not just the grand gestures. I don’t want to do it to score points. I want to do it with humility. Just as my wife has been doing it. Just as every woman on the planet does it.
Why do I want to do it? To put a smile on my wife’s face, yes. But also to hear the sound of inner growth.
Of manning up.
Isn’t it ironic? Manning up actually requires understanding women.
It seems ironic if you think of “man” as the opposite of “woman.” How about “man” as the opposite of “boy,” though? It makes more sense, now, doesn’t it?
So how can we man up to the challenge?
Abort the myth that associates women with caring
There are two narratives that perpetuate what we expect from women in terms of emotional labour: (1) “women enjoy caring, more than men do” and (2) “women are better at caring than men.”
Do we really believe that women are natural caregivers and we are not? So what kind of “naturals” are we? Hunters? Cave men? Couch potatoes?
If we call women “natural caregivers,” shouldn’t we call men “natural slobs” and “natural slackers?”
Don’t I want my kids to have parties? Of course I do. Then why do I leave the arrangements on my wife’s shoulders? Because I have let myself believe the myth that (1) she enjoys it more and (2) she is better at it.
How about flipping the myth? Could it be that (1) she enjoys it more and (2) she is better at it because she’s been doing it for years?
We need to understand that caring about home affairs is manly. Managing our homes is as important as managing our professional lives.
Besides, women do both of these things. Whenever I think about it, I get a kick in the butt — not to mention other, more sensitive parts.
“Natural slackers?” It hurts. We must man up and face home and family management.
Learn to see emotional labour
At first, we can’t see it. And it’s ridiculous. Men are conditioned to be blind to it. We need training.
But here is a trick: if you can’t see what your wife does for home and family, see what you avoid doing. Follow your boredom: when do you feel like playing with your mobile? Do you phase out when your wife describes her ideas for the kid’s party?
That’s the sign! That is when she cares and you don’t. That is when you perpetuate the belief that she is a “natural caregiver” and you are a “natural slacker.”
That is when you put emotional labour on your wife’s shoulders.
Hold that moment. Learn from it. Ask yourself: how did she come up with all those ideas? When did she? Remember the night before, when she was on Pinterest and you were watching Fury Road, just like me?
See that shopping list / instructions? It took time and research to write them. This was actual creative writing. See it. See it happening.
Understand this invisible work that happens behind our backs and makes us look good. (And not only look, but also be well and healthy, too.) Understand that it takes time.
Appreciate it.
Give your spouse the credit for it. Both externally and internally. Don’t only tell her so that she feels good — or to woo her. Go beyond the surface. Internalise it. Digest it.
It will help you grow into a real man.
Assume some of it
You see it? Take it. Take it off her shoulders. Offer to do stuff. Or better, don’t offer. Do stuff right away. Plan shit. Holidays. A party. Your date night. Cook a dish. Or just hammer a fucking nail into the wall, when you have to.
Eventually, assume half of it.
That’s the ultimate goal. Equality.
But don’t let the word “ultimate” make you postpone it for your 80s. Man up, now.
Epilogue
Will I ever organise our kids’ parties on my own? The idea seems so far fetched that I can’t even process it. Still, this is what my wife does. Could I take half of that, thus relieving her from all of her emotional labour? Could I take more than half? Could I do the whole thing myself?
Could I shoulder emotional labour? Am I man enough to do what a woman can?
Alas, not yet. But I’ve started walking the way.
Caring takes practice. And a lot of perseverance, if you want to become “natural” at it.
