Me in the back, my sister to my side, my brother to my front, and my older sister at the head of the table.
The same seating arrangement had been done by me and my siblings for years at dinner, for as long as I can remember. So a few years ago when my father started yelling about our seating arrangement we all stared at him in bewilderment. He was adamant that my brother and older sister switch. Me and my siblings shared glances that said,
“It’s a chair.”
“Is he serious?
We promptly ignored him for the following days. At least we did, until he angrily came downstairs and stood there yelling until my sister and my brother changed places.
Okay.
He was serious.
I can’t say I was truly surprised. My parents have values based in Catholicism and their idea of “Nigerian culture”. Through this, I was taught many things that a woman should be, how they should dress, speak, act, present themselves. As I grew older and began to think for myself more, I thought I had grown out of that mindset, the “ideal” presentation of femininity. However, through various readings in my Gender and Women’s Studies courses, particularly Throwing Like A Girl by Iris Marion Young, I realized I don’t exist nor was raised outside of society. Though it is possible to not fit into society’s expectations, so much of my physical body has been shaped by my womanhood, squishing inside of myself as a man spreads his body wide while sitting down or shuffling out of the way when a man is walking in the same direction as me. There is a lack of confidence instilled in me I wasn’t aware of. I realized then that many people refer to femininity as a presentation, an act. While true, I also see it as a body, not in an aesthetic way but one that is formed through others words and actions. Women are not taught to be fast, not told they can be big, shown it is not right to be strong. So they shape their bodies, mold them, transform them anew. To be slower, to be smaller, to be weaker. Words echo in their ears, words like,
“Move. That seat is for your brother.”
Another crease is cut into the clay.
I really liked how you connected something as simple as where you sit at the table to gender roles. It shows how these expectations can become part of everyday life without us even realizing it. The story about your siblings also made your point feel a lot more personal and real.
Within this beautiful post, I hear a child being taught to unlearn and distrust their instincts. I have heard so many children of these family systems recalling the exact moment when they actually questioned their parents’ behavior despite there being messages from all around teaching us that it is unsafe to do so. The “it’s just a chair, is he serious?” moment where our gut speaks up. You did not have instincts that taught you to behave certain ways based on your gender; your instincts taught you that you were human and just that. The teaching is instilled within the home, and then solidified and encouraged through society. You deserved to sit in any chair; a chair being among the things that put you into a gendered box is an example of how the tiniest things around us are gendered. A chair. A damn chair.