Esther McCarthy: Enough mansplaining, here's some womansplaining for ye
I feel we need to balance things out for all the midlife women out there. Picture: iStock
Mansplaining. Has it ever happened to you? My favourite story is Rebecca Solnit’s and it’s a doozy. At a dinner party, a man starts lecturing her about a very important book. Plot twist — the book is hers, she wrote it.
Your man hadn’t even read it, he’d just seen a review of it.
Her friend had to tell him repeatedly, “that’s her book” before it finally lands. He went, as Solnit wrote, ashen.
Then Solnit wrote it up in a 2008 essay for Guernica magazine called Men Explain Things To Me, and that essay is what gave the world the word “mansplaining”.
Living in a house of men and mini-men, I am on the lookout for such behaviour. It happened to me the other day, some young fella was telling me about the band that wrote the Fr Ted theme tune. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Neil Hannon.”
“Actually they’re called The Divine Comedy?” he said, smiling patronisingly and Americany.
“He’s the lead singer,” I said. “And I saw them in Nancy Spain’s in 1996, you foetus!”
That gig I can remember so clearly, even though it was decades ago, but at the moment, I spend a large amount of my day mumbling apologies for my lack of brain power. I remember nobody’s name. It’s Blankedy Blank. I can mostly get away with this as I tend to greet everyone with “Hi girl!” or “What’s the craic, boy?” or “There you are now, ‘tis yourself.”
I feel we need to balance things out for all the midlife women out there. And their menfolk. So listen up jerks!
Here’s some womansplaining for ye, like it or lump it.
It’s the opposite to the way you are doing it. If the pint glass is falling as you push in the drawer, how do you think it will survive the cycle? Put it below by the bowls. Or, gasp, HANDWASH it. And wipe the goddamn knives first. Peanut butter, butter, especially the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, jam, and chocolate spread, none of them come off in a normal wash. WIPE THE KNIVES.
My god! What has happened to gyms? Do I need to explain that you should not leave your DNA on each machine? I went very much against my will recently. One heavy breather got off a bike and left their sweaty arse print on the saddle. Excuse me, sir! I did not come here to sit in your buttock stew. I was appalled. And secretly happy I could now use this as an excuse never to go again.
The ping. You’ve been added to a new group chat, accept this is now an it-will-follow-you-to-your-grave thing. Even if the person who set up the group kicks off by saying, ‘I know, ANOTHER group chat, lol! But don’t worry, this is just a temporary group’... to organise a gift/splinter off the main playdate group because they’ve had a falling out with someone/want to take the piss out of the Zoom call with colleagues who also don’t care about promotion... whatever its genesis, don’t be fooled. You can never leave. Especially if they say, ‘leave whenever you want!’ The second you do, that controlling bitch will change the group name to Why We Hate *insert your name here* and the group icon will be that picture of you getting sick in a bin after the PA meeting about teapots continued in the pub.
The woman is not the family’s cloud storage, okay? She has her own 4,000 tabs open. Doctor appointments, work stuff, extended family dramas, the pedicure for the dog (she wishes she had time to sort her toenails), whose birthday it is, are there only girly cards that they’ll refuse to use? Reread the school reminders about trips, oh my CHRIST, are they on a full week off in May? Any camps going? Don’t forget to pay for keyboard lessons, do it through the IBAN so you don’t get caught for the €7.50 platform fee. GAH! Revolut for that coffee before it becomes a talking point on the WhatsApp group you left. Did the kids take their allergy meds? What’s the pollen count today? Check why eleccy bill was double normal amount. Is someone secretly using the dryer? An email from Vinted confirming an order? You thought you only favourited it. Why do your toe joints hurt? Did you take your calcium? Check why your card got refused in Dunnes yesterday and your teenager had to bail you out with his card.
This is but a tiny glimpse into what’s going on in an average 10 seconds. So if the information exists in a shared app or a Google search, look it up yourself.
The brilliant Rebecca Solnit wrote that essay to name something women had always felt but hadn’t quite articulated. I am aware I just explained things to you with great confidence and zero invitation. But at least I wiped the knives first.
