Why Do Women Act This Way?

Some women give men more credit, attention, and respect

My husband went on a two-day fly-fishing trip, so this is one of the very few nights he isn’t home.

It also happens my sister is out of town. Her daughter whisked her off to a weekend bed and breakfast for her birthday. Since my sister drops by frequently and unexpectedly, her absence and my husband’s absence left me in a sort of limbo. What would I do?

Plenty, as it turns out.

I decided to spend the morning taking pictures for a News Break story and the afternoon working in the yard. My spring pansies were wilting, and it was time to plant summer flowers.

I ditched routine, housework, and meal preparation, and headed out to take pictures.

But when I had snapped my last photograph, I noticed a missed call from Megan, my mother’s hospice caseworker.

My mother, who turns 102 in July, lives with us. She is now bedridden, which has led me to the good decision to recruit hospice and the expensive decision to hire caregivers.

When I called Megan back, she said, “I stopped by and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. Do you want me to drop by tomorrow?”

“What time are you coming, and I’ll make sure I’m home,” I said.

“I hate to be like the cable guy, but I can only give you a three-hour window,” she said. “Sometime between 10 and 1?”

I made a mental note to be home between 10 and 1, because any 15-minute dash to the grocery store or the pharmacy would be the exact time she arrived. Hospice is good enough and helpful enough that you don’t want to miss them.

After my picture taking, I drove by Lowes to buy flowers for the deck and the front yard. Then I swung by Chick fil A and picked up a special treat for my mother: chicken nuggets and a Coke.

When I got home, my mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of her treat and her caregiver said, “Is that all she’s having for dinner?”

“Mama, do you want anything else? Potatoes or vegetables?” I already knew her answer. She only wanted those nuggets.

“No,” she said, confirming it.

I spent the next hour planting flowers, and when I came inside my hair was drenched with sweat and I was caked in dirt. After showering, I sat on the couch and started working on the News Break story.

My mother’s caregiver chose that moment to amble into the kitchen, take one look at the dishes piled in the sink, and say, “You on strike today?”

Because, you know, I was lazily sitting on the couch with my laptop perched in front of me, and the dishes were piled in the sink.

I have discovered that people don’t take women and writing seriously. They assume when I am on my computer that I am perusing Facebook, or doing something equally unproductive. And it doesn’t do any good to explain that I am a writer; that I actually earn a few dollars from my time on the computer. I should be cleaning those dishes!

Because I am a woman, and that’s what women do. Right?

When people ask me what I’ve done all day, it’s much better to list everything else before mentioning what I’ve really been doing; sitting at my computer and writing. Much more impressive to clean out the closet or bake a cake; two things I rarely do.

My husband, on the other hand, can sit at his computer all day and people assume he is doing something product. He usually is, but that’s beside the point. So am I.

When the caregiver arrives each morning and I answer the door, she smiles briefly and says hello. When she spots my husband sitting on the couch with his computer, she beams, her entire face broadening into a grin, and says hello.

Why is it that women treat other women like this? Why smile at me and beam at him? I notice it all the time. When a man is speaking, everyone listens (or pretends to listen) avidly. Women laugh uproarously at men’s jokes.

When a woman is speaking, she better tell it quick or somebody will probably interrupt.

When a man does something nice, people fawn all over it. When a woman does the same thing, it’s expected.

I bet if my husband had arrived with nuggets and a Coke, the caregiver would have beamed. She wouldn’t have asked if that was all my mother was having for dinner.

I used to experience the same thing in the workforce. My boss, a woman, preferred men. She thought they were more capable and their opinions more worthy.

Even my male co-worker acknowledged this. “She likes men, so if I ask her for something she’s more likely to agree than if you go to her,” he said.

And he was right. If I needed something from my boss and he went to her about it, I was more likely to get it.

I don’t really care much what other people think, so I don’t tailor my activities to meet their expectations. But I would like to know. Why do women do this to each other?

Women rant and rave about patriarchy, about women’s rights, about not having a voice, and then don’t give women the same credit they give a man.

Not all women, of course. But enough to make it noticeable.

My husband gets back from his fly-fishing trip tomorrow, and I’m sure the caregiver will beam when he returns. But in the meantime, I’m working on another story, so there will probably be more dishes in the sink.