I have a single female friend who is on the hunt for a boyfriend. Recently, while recounting her latest dating disappointment, she noted with obvious disdain that her date de jour didn’t open any doors for her, nor did he offer to pay for her dinner. “Any decent man would have done those things without me asking him to do them,” she said as though stating an immutable law of the universe.
The comment immediately riled my flaming inner feminist. Why did this stone-age attitude persist in an otherwise modern, liberated, and certainly intelligent woman? In my mind, strong, independent women should not possess such expectations, not even subconsciously. They are a throwback to the days when women were considered the weaker sex — delicate and frilly creatures that should not have to open heavy doors or trouble themselves with the complexities of a dinner bill, because that would most certainly tax their abilities. While few people still subscribe (at least openly) to such an archaic perception of women, the expectations persist either as the shell of custom or as perfunctory belief in traditional roles for men and women. I wasn’t about to let these sexist expectations persist in my friend.
“Why does a man have to do that for you? Why can’t he express courtesy and caring in other, less stereotypical ways? Or why can’t you do those things for him instead?” I asked.
“He just should,” she replied.
I tried for a time to argue for a more enlightened view of gender roles in society. I explained the history and evils of patriarchy, discussed the issue of female empowerment and self-sufficiency, and pontificated on the differential valuation of things ‘female’ versus things ‘male.’ I even quoted Gloria Steinham. “Did our foremothers burn their bras so we could remain mired in dependent relation to men?” I concluded with rhetorical flourish. To my mildly astonished dismay, my friend didn’t immediately fall to the ground in praise of NOW, Betty Friedan, and Ms. Magazine. She wasn’t buying any of it.
“A man just should,” was her response.
The very next day I found myself trying to enter a department store while carrying a couple of shopping bags and pushing a stroller. I struggled as I tried to hang on to my load and keep the door open long enough to pass through it. If you’ve ever had to get through a store door encumbered in this fashion, you know it is not a subtle, unobtrusive process. Quite the contrary, you often look – and feel – like a circus clown botching a juggling routine.
I noticed three men standing maybe 15 feet away, definitely close enough to observe my predicament. Not one of them bothered to get the door for me. “Insensitive men. They ought to help me,” I grumbled. Then I stopped myself. Did I subconsciously subscribe to the stone-age expectations I claimed I detested? Had I become a helpless, stereotypical female who expected a knight in shining armor to swoop in and assist me? As a strong, independent woman, couldn’t I open the door myself without the help of a man?
It was then that I realized what opening doors is – or at least should be – about. Opening doors should be a matter of courtesy, a gesture of generosity or consideration. As I entered the department store, I didn’t want a MAN to help me with the door. I wanted a thoughtful HUMAN BEING to assist me because I needed aid. Likewise, men do not have to treat women to dinner or a movie or whatever other outing a couple might go on. But someone who cares about another can offer that as an indication of respect or even romance. In other words, opening doors, paying for dinner and all similar actions are essentially a matter of compassion. These are things we can and should do for each other, regardless of our gender, or our race or religion for that matter. We should let gender-based behavioral expectations die, but not our consideration for each other as fellow human beings.
So it seemed my friend was right. Her date should have opened doors for her and perhaps offered to pay for her meal, if he was a thoughtful human being. And she should have done the same.
Michelle Motoyoshi | Contributor
Michelle Motoyoshi has wanted to be a writer since she first learned how to scribble words on a page. Since then she has cobbled together a few accomplishments, like having her work performed by local theater groups, publishing three educational books for children, and writing articles for local and online publications. She has also managed to earn a Ph.D. from U.C. Berkeley, while supporting her writing addiction by working as a writing instructor and program coordinator with Ohlone for Kids in Fremont, CA.
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