I don’t understand this sentence.
It goes right to the heart of what bothers me about gender in our culture. It’s not a purse when held my someone male: it’s a man-bag. Those 22 oz. beers you see? Where I moved from they called those man-cans. There are a ton of them.
I’m having a bit of trouble with my back, and my Barré class this morning saw it flare up again. Someone else in the class recommended a sports physio to me, something I greatly appreciated. Apparently she really kind of digs in to align things, something that feels brutal when it’s being done but usually has me back in shape afterwards.
Another person in the class: “See, that must be a man thing. I just want my back to feel good, not get hurt.”
I’ve griped before that it’s far easier for someone biologically female to show masculine traits than the other way around. When people say there is no sexism in our culture, I point to the way we have, in many facets, simply adopted the masculine way/appearance/whatever. And then we build up in language and in custom this notion that there is a men’s way of doing things.
That’s not what I want. It’s not what I want to be. It makes me picture something hairy and not smelling great and whole host of stereotypes—ones that only come to mind when they’re foisted on me.
Don’t ask me if something’s a guy thing. I’m not really much of a guy. And if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to handbag shopping now.
Ooh, I like that one from Haiku… and it’s not a man-bag.