One day, when I was in roughly the fourth grade, my entire grade school had gathered in the gym for our regularly scheduled monthly assembly. This one was special because all of the parents had been invited to attend. Our parents weren’t expected to sit on the cold gym floor criss-cross applesauce, so we needed to set up chairs for them. For this assembly my class was designated the responsibility of setup and cleanup. When it had finished and the gym was clear of people, my teacher got the class’s attention and uttered a question I will never forget; “Are there any strong boys who can put away the chairs under the stage?”. The second her words entered my ear, I experienced this new feeling, a feeling of jealousy, anger and sadness. But how could I experience those all simultaneously? Unfortunately this was a feeling I would grow used to as the years went on. Why did she specify only boys? Why couldn’t the words “strong” and “girls” ever be strung together in a sentence?
Most of the girls heard the teachers request and immediately pursued other cleanup tasks that had to be done. However there were a few of us girls, including myself, who understood it as a challenge. I immediately grabbed two chairs on each arm and trekked my way over the stage area. I figured if I could prove that girls could do it, then she would realize her mistake. To my dismay the complete opposite scenario had resulted. I hadn’t even been five steps in when she stood in front of me and told me I shouldn’t carry those. Not only did she take the chairs from me, but she handed them over to two boys, who both struggled with them. As much as I hate to be deep and philosophical, the action of removing the chairs from my hands felt as though she had taken away my strength and innocence. From that moment on, I was officially considered a victim to the patriarchal society we live in.
As years went on I had become determined to ensure one of my defining qualities was “strong”. Some part of me believed that she took the chairs away from me because maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t actually as strong as I thought. In soccer I made sure I could kick the ball further than the guys, in shot put I threw further, in arm wrestles I had to put up a fight, if not beat them. Still to this day I am constantly comparing gym PRs (Personal Records) with my guy friends to see if I’m an equal competitor. In no way do I loathe my fourth grade teacher for ever asking that question. Because if she hadn’t, my fifth grade teacher would’ve, then my sixth, seventh, and all my future teachers.
In no way am I trying to hate on men for wanting to feel strong. It’s the same as me going out in public and wanting to feel pretty. I am just mad at the system. The one that raised us to subconsciously desire being associated with stereotypically more masculine or feminine descriptors.
When looking at who I am today, I still very much strive to be identified as a strong individual. Almost all my life decisions have to do with denying the path that society has made for me to follow. Even in school I’m in engineering which is heavily male dominated so I’m constantly feeling the need to prove myself. When I put all those little decisions that brought me to where I am today, it’s always crazy to think that this all started because of carrying some chairs.