WHEN THE PATRIARCHY STRIKES

Went shopping for a washing machine with my uncle the other day. He'd offered to accompany me because my preferred brand was quite scarce. On getting to the first store, we discovered the price was above my budget for that product and so we had to leave. We went to another store but the prices were even higher, so we returned to the first.

"Welcome back, oga," I heard the manager say as we arrived. Then he proceeded to ask my uncle what our final decision concerning the product we'd priced earlier was. They spoke for a while, and when we eventually got some privacy, I turned to my uncle, bemused, and asked him, "did you see what just happened?" 

But he hadn't noticed anything. 

Two people walk into a store. Surely, the manager could direct a general greeting at them both. But no, the clown ignores the woman, his real customer with the money and instead engages the man who has tagged along only for moral support. It hangs heavily in the air, the soft bigotry of low expectation. The assumption that all huge/fairly huge expenses made by a woman has to be bankrolled by a man. 

My uncle didn't think it was a big deal. "Maybe he thought you were my wife and so he assumed you merely accompanied me here."

But, of course, that was my grouse. The systematic effacing of the woman's identity. She is to be seen and not heard. When she steps out with her male partner, society hails him and ignore her, as though the value of her existence is solely attached to the man's. As though she has no value in and of herself.

I bit back my response to my uncle. It's not unusual for humans to be insensitive to issues they can not relate to and may never have to deal with. Besides, I wasn't about to have a debate about how that 15-second scene was misogyny on full display. I just wanted to get my purchase and go home. I had my family eagerly anticipating it. 

You see, I'd influenced my granny to save diligently towards the purchase and then added a considerable amount to augment the payment for it. I was so pleased (or more like "relieved" to be saved the drudgery of handwashing) that I didn't have the time to reflect on the little scene at the electronics store that until 9:40 that night. 

The misogyny had been so quick. It was almost negligible, much so that naming it for what it was now comes across as an overreach. You begin to wonder if you're overthinking things. You balk at the thought of talking about it at all, lest you be accused of trying to push another "feminist agenda."

But it's there. 

It's really not happening in your head. You've just been attacked by the Patriarchy. 

Many times I let the sleeping dog lie. Sometimes, it's because I feel too lazy to type and share my experiences as a female in a male-dominated world. Other times, it's simply me being a coward. I'm afraid of showing my friends and family up again with my "feminist talk," and so I just breeze through life, avoiding uncomfortable feminist conversations and dropping random posts where people can ooh and ahh about my wisdom and sense of humour. 

But on days like this, I simply lack the patience for the kind of denial that makes me force myself to pretend I don't care about being disrespected or disregarded as a woman. I'm unbothered about what anyone thinks about the plausibility of my account or the validity of my opinion. 

I'm just a woman with real-life experiences, a vocabulary wide enough to aid narration, and some free time on her hands. What better thing to do with these things than say what's on my mind (with the special bonus of offending misogynistic asswipes and their allies)? 

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