Making fun of girls who dream of being a wife and stay-at-home-mom actually doesn’t make you progressive or feminist or cool, it just makes you a person who shits on someone else’s dream, a.k.a an asshole
Whenever someone says that I say “Okay, whatever floats your boat, I guess” and then I think “Why would she want that? Isn’t it boring to just sit around all day and do nothing?”
Moms don’t “sit around all day and do nothing” - they have a incredibly important 24/7 job: raising little human beings. Don’t devalue that by calling it “nothing”.
Man, my mom cooked, cleaned, paid the bills, went grocery shopping, did my hair every morning before school and every night (which, as a white woman with no prior experience of doing black hair, especially on a tender-headed child, is no easy feat). She helped with my homework, consoled me after a bad day, frequently volunteered at the school. She even picked my anxious, crying ass up from kindergarten early nearly every day for the first semester and would lie down with me every night when I was a child until I fell asleep (and that usually took several hours). That’s not even scratching the surface of all the things she’s done for me and my siblings. She was always the first person up and the last person to go to bed. Nothing about what she did, and continues to do to a lesser degree, is easy.
Domestic work is constantly undervalued even though every family depends on it. My grandmother on my mom’s side would go hungry just so her kids could eat - that is not nothing.
Also, if you would commend a man for being a stay at home dad and doing exactly what women have been doing for centuries, don’t pretend you care about women’s labor.
I periodically feel so fucking sad for women in history. I feel like birth control in countries where it is widely used has made women forget an aspect of male cruelty and sociopathy that is now less apparent (giving the illusion that men have improved when only women’s defences against men have)—the fact that for most of history men could live with a woman for decades and not care that they were slowly killing her with endless back-to-back pregnancies which not only resulted in early death more often than not, but also in a total smothering of the woman’s spirit and talents. I saw a quote by Anne Boyer the other day that called straight relationships for women “not only deadly, but deadening”—as I was reading Jill Lepore’s Book of Ages, a biography of Benjamin Franklin’s sister Jane, who was bright and loved reading and wrote some poetry, but had little time to make anything of her life in between her 12 pregnancies. Benjamin Franklin’s mother had 10 sons and 7 daughters. What could they possibly accomplish when their husbands kept impregnating them year after year after year throughout their entire adult life?
Charlotte Brontë eschewed marriage longer than most (writing to Ellen Nussey that she wished they could just set up a little cottage and live together) but she finally married at 38, became pregnant, and died before her 39th birthday. If she had married younger would Jane Eyre exist? I was reading that biography of Charity & Sylvia last month and comparing their life together in their little cottage to the life of their married female relatives, which was honestly hell on earth. One of Charity’s sisters had 18 children. Charity’s mother had 10 living ones, and probably some additional stillbirths. She gave birth to her first child age 19, in 1758, then to a pair of twins in 1760, then another child in 1761, another in 1763, another in 1765, another in 1767, another in 1769, another in 1771, another in 1774, another in 1777. Charity was the last child and her mother had been sick with tuberculosis for months when she became pregnant with her, and she died soon after giving birth.
I wish people would call this murder—this woman was murdered by her husband, like countless other women who do not ‘count’ as victims of male violence because straight sex is natural, pregnancy is natural, childbirth is natural. But when after 20 years of nonstop pregnancies this woman had tuberculosis and suffered from severe respiratory distress, severe weight loss, fever and exhaustion, and her husband impregnated her again, her death was expected. He must have known; he just didn’t care. This woman’s sister—Charity’s aunt—remained a spinster and outlived all of her married sisters by several decades, living well into her eighties. (Ironically, male doctors in her century asserted that sex with men was necessary for women’s health. The biographer quoted from a popular home health guide which said that old maids incurred grievous physical harm from a lack of sex with men.) And this aunt had the time and liberty to develop her skill for embroidery to such an extent that two museums still preserve her embroidered bed drapes. She accomplished something, she nurtured her talent and self. Her name was also Charity, and I find it interesting that Charity’s mother named her last daughter, whose pregnancy & birth killed her, after her childless, unmarried sister.
When I see women reblog my post about Sophia Tolstoy’s misery with her 13 children, adding comments like “thank god marriage is no longer synonymous with this”, I wonder if they realise that men have not magically become any kinder or more concerned about their female partner’s health and fulfillment, it’s just that women now have access to better ways of protecting themselves from their male partner’s indifference to their health and fulfillment.
For the 3rd year in a row I’m seeing people give Netflix’s A Series of Unfortunate Events a try and then get disapointed/angry that nothing good ever comes out of it that everything always seem to go wrong for the Baudelaire and I’m just… if only someone, anyone…. had warned them
me: *is repeatidly told by the story itself that it doesnt end well, has a title sequence song that is just about how one should stop watching immediately because it’s sad, the narrator, each episode, tells me that i have an option of not watching it and proceeds to wait a few seconds for me to leave*
A Series Of Unfortunate Events: *isn’t a happy story*
Humans are packbondy creatures. I mean, there’s just no arguing it. They packbond readily, and quickly, and unbelievably strongly. Once a human has packbonded with a thing, they will do anything to help and protect that thing.
There’s a downside to that, not often mentioned. It uses up a lot of their time and energy to build those packbonds, maintain those packbonds, and most especially to do the work of helping and protecting those with whom they have packbonded. It doesn’t leave them a lot of time and energy for helping other beings.
If you want a human to help you – if you want to reliably get their best effort – you have to packbond with them first.
“Yeah? So?” So you’re probably going to be working with humans for most, if not all, of your career. No matter how good or bad you are at your job, there will come a time when you need someone else in your workspace to help you with something, whether that’s manning the fry station for 2 minutes while you pee, sending over those numbers from marketing, or dropping everything to teach you how to do a thing that your boss told you to do or else you’d be fired.
Not to mention the big things. They don’t give promotions to just their friends – at least not so much any more. Promotions go to the people who’ve completed big, visible, important projects. It seems fair until you consider,,,, who gets the big, important, visible projects assigned to them in the first place?
Humans give boosts to the people they’ve packbonded with. They mention packbondee’s accomplishments to the boss (or the boss’ boss). They cover for the mistakes of people they’ve packbonded with.
“That’s not right! It shouldn’t be a popularity contest! It should be about who does the best –” Listen to me. Listen.
You may be right. You may be the most correct creature to have ever spoken since the beginning of galactic civilization.
It does not matter
Humans packbond. It’s what they do. I can’t stop it. You can’t stop it. No power in the ‘verse can stop it. This is how the human do.
All you can do is work with it.
If you want a human to help you – if you want to reliably get their best effort – you have to packbond with them first.
“Look, I’m introverted and scared of people and I have social anxiety so I really don’t know how to –” Hey, my pal, I feel you. I, too, am introverted. And I have social anxiety. And I have PTSD that actually – and I recognize that this is bizarre – has ‘business networking’ as a trigger.
For you, I have good news: Humans will packbond with anything.
Like, you don’t really actually have to do anything. You kinda just have to… exist. In their presence. They kinda do the rest.
If you can talk with them, that speeds things up. But it doesn’t have to be, like, good conversation. Like, it can totally go
You: boy, sure is hot out! Human: Man oh man, can you believe it? You: Wow, yeah Human: Totally You: …. Human: ….
This conversation – as awkward and uncomfortable as it felt to you, has caused this human to packbond with you a little more. If you repeat it weekly, you will get good results.
THE TAKEAWAYS
You need to packbond with the humans you come in contact with
Taking time to do that is not only justifiable, it is an important part of your job, and should be treated as such
That is to say that, as much as you hate it (and believe me, I understand), you have to take time away from actual work and dedicate it to packbonding with your fellow workers
Tips
Plan out your packbonding time. It’s easier if you can initiate than if a human springs packbonding-time on you all unexpected. In an office job I like to use Friday afternoon, but adjust according to what makes sense to you and your situation.
Keep some packbonding-time questions handy. My go-to list is:
(If it’s Monday or Tuesday) How was your weekend?
(If it’s Wednesday) How’s your week been so far?
(If it’s Thursday or Friday) Any big plans for the weekend?
How’s your day been?
You don’t have to care about the answers to these questions. All you have to do is remember that if the human is answering questions, they are not asking you any questions. Therefore questions are your friend. If you ask follow-up questions, you may be able to get through the entire packbonding time without having to do any of the talking
Learn to disengage from packbonding. You can use basically the same sentence (or variants on it), but you’ll want to practice it so that you can make it sound natural. I use “Awesome! Well, I gotta get going. Have a good one!”
I know it feels overwhelming, but a few minutes of packbonding, once a week, is all you need. Once you build it into your habits it can be no more annoying than doing dishes or showering.
So we’re just not gonna talk about how OP is an alien anthropologist investigating the human species before infiltrating huh
“That is to say that, as much as you hate it (and believe me, I understand), you have to take time away from actual work and dedicate it to packbonding with your fellow workers”
In many of my shittiest jobs I wasn’t allowed to talk to the other employees because the bosses say we couldn’t do our jobs if we were socializing. Now that it has been phrased this way it makes me realize how not only just how life-sucking that is but also how dehumanizing.
They won’t even let us packbond.
Pretty sure that’s by design. They know you won’t talk to the bosses, much less packbond with them, but if you bond with your coworkers? Well. That’s perilously close to unionizing, but arguably more dangerous. Now you actually care about them, like with your real *heart*.
I love that this concept has gone full circle from “let’s talk about how humans interact to aliens” to “let’s look at humans through an alien lens” to “let’s use our observations about humans to now interact with other humans.” It’s exactly what scifi is supposed to make you do: challenge your assumptions about how you view the world so that maybe you can approach your world from a new POV. Just perfect.
my art, slapping me mercilessly: stop pretending that a simple box of color counts as a background you stupid sonuvabitch u stupid motherfucker stop it
me, spitting out blood: w h ,,at if it had a gradient tho,,
