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Prolific Writer
Join Date: May 2008
Posts: 213
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On Whales and Whoppers
On Whales and Whoppers
Recently I went on a whale watching trip in the Straights of Juan de Fuca in Washington State. The boat was captained by a woman and the mechanic on board was also female. Nonetheless we stayed afloat.
And there were whales. We spotted the fin of an Orca about nine hundred yards off the port side. The picture I got looks like a turtle sticking its head out of the water.
About halfway into the trip the unthinkable happened. The ships engine shut down and we were dead in the water. The mechanic leapt into action and an hour later we were still afloat, but not moving, and no sound from the engine room save some high pitched swearing. This was despite several consultations between the captain and the mechanic, who kept coming topside, looking pasty white from the stress, asking lots of questions for which the captain had no answer.
Resigned to the reality of the situation, they used the radiophone on board, which I must say they operated quite smoothly, and called a guy on the mainland who actually knew how to fix the problem.
Two hours, and plenty of step by step instructions later, we were chugging through the waters again in search of more turtle heads.
Now, I have no problem that any mechanic gets some help from the more qualified. Happens all the time, though we usually hope it takes less time to figure out what you don’t know.
And the fact that the mechanic was female doesn’t explain her lack of skills. There are lots of bad mechanics in the world. Finding a good one can be more challenging than spotting a humpback.
But more to the point of this story is what happened when the motor was finally fixed. When the mechanic came up to the deck after we were running, the captain announced over the loudspeaker, “See there, ladies and gentlemen, when you want something done right, you get a woman to do it.”
The women on board immediately launched into a vigorous ovation. Some of the men were clapping too, though I couldn’t count them because my eyes were rolling.
A couple was sitting across from me. The women gently elbowed her husband and said, “See? See?” Her tone was haughty, as though five thousand years of stereotypes had just been erased. The man just nodded his head silently in acquiescence. The gesture said, “Of course darling, women rule.”
That obsequious nod, which the man had obviously perfected with years of practice, has become a staple of male survival and women’s self-esteem. It is the nonverbal version of “Yes, dear.” and its practice has snaked its way out of married life and into the mainstream of American life.
The rule is no matter what women say, no matter how ridiculous, agree with them. Women can do anything men can do? Sure, no problem. Just don’t bring up sports, even golf. Women are more enlightened and spiritually evolved than men? Absolutely. Just don’t mention it to baby seals. Women are the gentler, kinder sex? Of course. Please remind them in divorce court and every time they slap the crap out of a man for chuckles on national TV.
Neurosis causes a friction that results when the lies we live keep bumping into the truth. And as that neurosis goes in modern day gender relations, there has been enough friction to burn granite. But the rules keep us from talking about it. Well, most of us.
I think it all started in 1973 with Bobby Riggs and Billy Jean King. In the infamous “Battle of the Sexes” King beat Riggs in three straight sets before 50 million viewers telecast from the Astrodome in Houston, Texas. It was, as the London Sunday Times called it, "the drop shot and volley heard around the world."
It was lauded in American media and N.O.W. conventions across the land as proof of equality between the sexes. It was actually proof that almost anyone can outplay someone 26 years their senior. King was 29, Riggs 55. And he played her competitively anyway.
At no time during all the giddy fervor do I recall anyone pointing out that King was an athlete in her physical prime and at the top of her game while Riggs was eating at Denny’s on the senior discount. Afraid of saying anything to rock the boat or cause problems for the delusional, the entire nation erupted with two symbiotic reactions. The women, awash in imagined vindication, collectively chanted “See! See!”
The men, “Yes, dear.”
I would be the last to rob King of her accolades for beating a washed up old man in a tennis game, but I think the reaction to all this was a little over the top. I am sure that boxer Laila Ali, Muhammad Ali’s daughter, could take her father down in his current condition. Perhaps it would make her a hero to modern women. After all, in 1990, Life Magazine named Billy Jean King one of “The 100 Most Important Americans in the 20th Century.”
The problem with all this nonsense is that it ultimately hurts women. When a bad mechanic gets applause for being able to follow the instructions of a good one, just because she is a woman, where does that leave women who really are good mechanics? Why should they bother to excel when any woman smart enough to pick up a wrench and screw things up gets such easy approval and recognition?
Personally, if I were a woman with virtually any marketable skill, it would piss me off. Nobody who works hard and excels at their job likes it when the slackers and incompetent around them get the same rewards.
All the cheering and head nodding in the world won’t change the reality that low standards are low standards. You can hand out all the gold medals in the world and people will still know, even if they won’t talk about it, that they are medals for the Special Olympics.
Loosely given, sexually based recognition only perpetuates what women have fought against for years. That is the idea that they really can’t hack it side by side with men.
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