I'm not big on social media--I pretty much stick to Facebook, which mostly keeps me apprised of a) when friends are having parties; b) the latest batch of posts about “Why Grad School Sucks” / a feed of one-liners about “How You Know You’re in Your Thirties” from Buzzfeed; and c) the newest photos of my friends’ small ones—the latter of which is without doubt the best reason to use Facebook, in my humble opinion).
But recently, an acquaintance posted an article (“When ‘Life Hacking’ Is Really White Privilege”) by blogger Jen Dziura, host of the Williamsburg Spelling Bee. After enjoying the post, I poked around her feed for just a moment, long enough to find another article (apparently her top hit): “Benevolent Sexism and “That Guy” who Makes Everything Awkward.” I clicked, pretty certain of what I would read: an article about how sometimes people have expectations about women, like the fact that they should be nice, sweet, charming, etc., and how subtle behaviors (like opening doors for women or other seemingly unobtrusive/chivalrous gestures) may shape women’s behaviors and men’s attitudes simultaneously. You know, something similar to what she and countless others have said about subtle or implicit actions that guide behaviors leading to white privilege/racism.
But although the post explicitly did mention opening doors, and did contrast the notion of women who conform to stereotyped expectations (smiling, friendly, sweet, calm) with those who do not (<insert ostensibly any dissimilar set of adjectives>), I was surprised by its focus: men who apparently see women as goddess-like creatures with mystical powers from whom they can draw energy and replenishment. Ok, sure, the idea of “standing behind your man” is not old. And I would argue that the ability to provide some degree of energy and comfort to one’s partner—irrespective of sex or gender—is a quality worth seeking out in oneself and in potential dates/mates/lovers. The author, however, was decrying men in the workplace who expect women to fulfill this type of role.
I must be lucky to have never experienced this form of “benevolent sexism” in its extreme form. I do not have the statistics on it, but I would imagine that my line of work (which has resulted in my being a graduate student in science for 56 out of the 63 months since I graduated from college and a contractor at a science and engineering company for the other 7) is less prone to the more overt forms of this sexism. I have a few experiences which I will staunchly defend as being “on the line”—such as being redirected to a male colleague and not expected to understand how to do my own statistical analyses at one point, or being told that I looked like a prettier version of Lindsay Lohan by a male direct superior—but its difficult not to blame oneself for not communicating better that yes, I understand how to do this part of my work or no, I don’t really enjoy being compared to former Disney stars who later became sensationalized objects as they grew into adults under the harsh spotlight of the media. Were those a part of implicit sexism? Maybe not. Was I unsure how to cope with them, and did they strain my relationship with my superior? Yes. Could they have happened in the same way if I were a man? It’s hard to say.
The places where I have mostly encountered benevolent sexism are not at work, thank goodness. They are walking down the street, boarding an airplane, having a beer with a close friend at a local brewery, or waiting in line for refreshments after a choir performance. “Smile,” men will say.
I would like to meet the woman who, after hearing a command to change her physical appearance to a form that would please one of those men a bit more, feels more like smiling. I would like to meet the woman who, after being told that her reflection of her emotional state is not good enough, not meeting expectations, wants to thank the man who recently informed she shouldn’t feel free to have control over her own emotions. These aren’t the men who hate women—these are the men who think it is appropriate to enlighten strangers about the reflection of their emotions on their face.
I am not the only person who has written about men telling women to smile. There has got to be a better approach than turning and yelling, but I’m not sure what it is. Generally, it has been for me to ignore them. Sometimes, that is not possible. The stranger on the airplane who catcalled it to me from his seat was easy enough to ignore. Surely, he assumed I was simply annoyed by the process of traveling and that it would cheer me to hear his plaints. The fact that I was personally grieving for another reason was none of his business, and it sure as hell was not his business to tell me to smile, but really, what harm was he doing? The stranger at a bar approaching my roommate and me who was likely trying to strike up a conversation, however, was a bit more difficult. Lucky for me, my friend has more refined social graces, and the conversation moved on to a discussion about science and technology. People who I know and want to respect, however, make things a bit more difficult. Meaning well is one thing, but there comes a point where I feel it is my duty as a person, and as a female person, not to let it slide. That doesn’t mean turning to them, as I might to a guy on the street, and staunchly declaring, “Women are people too.” It doesn’t mean walking away and saying nothing. Usually, it means gritting my teeth, forcing myself utter something resembling a chuckle, and saying something like, “It’s been a long semester.” If I'm feeling particularly combative, I might even manage, "It's not necessary to smile all the time."
Thankfully, others are also thinking about how to get men to stop telling women to smile, including a Kickstarter project funded in October for an outdoor public art series and this
