Guys, I failed at “girl power” today.
Normally, despite my tendency to criticize things titled “girl power,” I’m a pretty good example of girl power. For instance, I tend to get pissy when people make generalizations about women. I rename things to include women, including hymns that I feel leave women out in Christian churches. I once informed a young man (well, an older young man who is really not so young anymore) that he made me feel like I was a “hysterical woman” which has its roots in like Victorian bullshit about wandering wombs. I’m the kind of girl you want on your side in an argument with anyone, anyone, about what it means to be a woman. I even have feminist reasons for dropping my women’s studies major in college.
Okay, so I am really good at girl power except when I get frustrated with, like, the mechanics of installing a window shade in my bedroom window.
I blame the pink screwdriver I used:
I blame the fact that I am 5 feet 3 inches tall and still feel short even standing on a chair:
I blame the directions that told me to use a Philips head screwdriver when it meant to say, “Please use a powerdrill.”
Or it could have said, “Please invite a handyman or handywoman over.”
It could have even suggested, “Please let the handyman get all sweaty so that he has to take off his shirt as he reaches for an ice cold beverage that has all kinds of condensation on it.” I would have offered him a nice handkerchief to dab at the sweat or whatever. Wait, do handymen have their own handkerchiefs? Also, is there another name for these men? Or women?
Anyway, I did what I do best, girl powering or not: I gave up on screwing things in. Instead, I brass-tacked a new sheet to my window and adjusted it so that it dangled delicately and allowed for nice privacy. For me to then cry. Because I failed at putting up something easy that all men are told to learn how to do in the United States.
I think we can all agree that I certainly failed at girl power. I was supposed to be like Rosie the Riveter, but instead I ended up crying (yes, I cry, especially when frustrated).
(Whatever, Rosie the Riveter only existed to remind women to go work in factories while their men were at war– and then return to the home when and if the men returned. Let’s not glamorize her too much.)
Basically, what I’m asking here is will some handymen come over to FFBR HQ possibly dressed like the Village People and do a few home repairs?
Sorry I’m Not Sorry,