Growing up around brothers as the only daughter, I did feel quite protected. Not particularly in the physical sense, but mentally. I do wonder how different my mindset would be or the dynamics of the household would be, if I had sisters instead.
Our parents had us in all sorts of activities. Drama, Irish-dancing (which I fucking hated) arts and crafts. The boys would go to kick boxing with dad and I was always a little jealous that I wouldn’t be asked along or asked if that interests me too. Why didn’t I speak up you ask? Well I don’t know; I was quite shy on the outskirts and the fire in my belly wasn’t trained or even thought of to speak up about certain taboo topics.
Although Mother would encourage independence and the Talking Cure. Chatting about feelings to an extent of over analysation, sometimes I use to think she was a walking contradiction.
Doting around my older brother – washing his clothes, having his dinner ready when he would come home from work (He moved out when he was 28)yet would tell me to help her clean the house, to learn to wash my own clothes, asking me to do the dishes with the boys sitting right beside me “Ah there’s only a few cups, don’t make a big deal out of it”. I had never made a big deal out of anything until my late 20’s while living abroad when I shouted at my then boyfriend for leaving the apartment so messy (he was a trooper). I was in fact the opposite – I would compress my real thoughts and plodder along claiming I was just very “laid back” and nothing would phase me while the fire inside would be raging, ready to explode.
Although I’m very thankful for it now, as I can cook for myself, (I remember I would cook my own food purely just to prove that point of independence), wash my own clothes since the age of 12 ( “mammy does it all” – the main reason many of our generation are still living at home – apart from cheaper rent), I couldn’t help but think it was slightly sexist – but I realized quickly that she came from another generation – another era of rules and roles and I understood it would take time for her to unlearn this, in this ever changing 21st century of role reverse.
From moving abroad to moving back to Dublin to the family home to two divorced parents in my mid-twenties, to entering a new relationship and moving back out to my own apartment with a partner who was very much on the sexist spectrum to say the least.
I know I was very much smitten and would have done anything to make him happy to almost turn our living arrangements to what can only be described as abusive male dominance living in the 50’s.
“You better learn to fold my shirts properly” was not a joke. “Why is my dinner not ready?” was not a joke. “Why don’t you dress sexier?” was not a joke. “You didn’t make my lunch for me just because your mother came to visit? I’m not bringing you to the cinema now” was not a joke. “Your hair looks very plain, why do you always have it the same way?” was not a joke.
I can’t believe I’m even writing this and I’m very much still angry at myself for putting up with that kind of behavior. Maybe he caught me at weak moments and maybe I like a man who is dominant in bed and maybe he grew up in a household that promoted this kind of behavior, but that is not an excuse.
Needless to say, as I now know that you can’t talk to or reason with a narcissist (no, you actually can’t, so don’t try), I packed my bags and in the great words of Tupac I left the pieces on the floor and moved the fuck on.
Sexism is very much still behind closed doors, whether its accidently subtle or in your face aggressive, it’s there, and it’s up to us as individuals to notice it, to address it head on, to not be afraid of sticking up for yourself and tell whoever has a problem with equality of any sort, can do one!
This below is a poem I recently wrote about that said relationship: (Yes, I do cringe reading it back – but I’m learning to forgive myself)
You punish me with silence
As I forgot to wash your clothes
I’m teaching you to be a proper wife, you said
Pointing to the laundry, don’t forget those
I don’t know why I want to please you
It feels almost like a drug
When the punishment is over
You reward me with a hug
I cry myself to sleep most nights
Wondering what I did so wrong
Acting like you hate me so much
But then walk in and break out in song
A double personality
Or is it just the one?
When you’re ready to criticize again
When your happy song is sung
You don’t know how to dance, so stop
Why do you always look so plain?
How could such ignorance words
Cause me so much pain
Focusing on my image
To be your perfect girl
You’d put me on a pedestal
You’d promise me mountains and pearls
But only outside in public
Inside was never the same
Mindfuck after mindfuck
Game after game
You said you really loved me
Only a fool would believe
You said you’d never lie nor cheat
To deceive you had achieved
To keep me down on the ground so small
To build your evil fortress
I helped you lay the bricks so smooth
Soothing your ego to destress
Until a light cracked through the darkness
A tunnel I had seen
I wonder now where that girl is
I can’t imagine now ever being
By Gretta Donnelly 2020 (COVID year)
Turning 30 