Damsel in distress

Once upon I was a woman who was capable of doing things herself. These days I have given up on my independence and have become part of a larger mechanism called society in which every person has its role. So don’t even think about doing someone else’s job, but give it to that person for a certain price. It’s a class system in a way, but since it helps people to make money I can’t be bothered that much. Gender roles are very clear in this system.

Last night my car broke down. The clutch was not responding at all and there I was, on the slope outside a supermarket, helpless and all. As a damsel in distress I beckoned some guy over (yes, beckoning was new for me too!) and in a bit of a helpless tone I said “it’s not working” and The Man took over. Before I knew it I was taken to the mechanic. My saviour negotiated with me shielded off by a hedge (since my skin colour would be bad for negotiations) and we returned to my car together with two (!) mechanics. My saviour accepted no money for his help (although I did give him, of course; I’m not THAT cruel) but we soon learned that some spare parts were needed urgently. Thank God, I thought, because here people tell you to drive with your car falling apart (a normal occupation of drivers on the road) whereas I actually prefer to drive in a car with working clutch and brakes. Call me old-fashioned.

Anyway, I decided to call on a friend to help me, and saviour no 1 took off. My friend then took over and added a capital letter to Saviour. Driving about finding spare parts, negotiating in several languages, keeping me company, explaining what exactly was wrong with my car (men are never more pleased than when they can impress us poor women with technical knowhow), pushing my car to a place where it could be fixed, etc etc. All that while I was there, the fraudster, the damsel in distress who was tired after a long day of work and way too happy that other people took over while she was looking helpless and just a tad more stupid than she actually was.

I felt it was like Adam & Eve all over, confirming gender stereotypes I never supported in the first place. Why? Because it was easy. Because it makes men so happy if women seem helpless and let them feel All Important. Because people like to operate from the pidgin holes they think they are (put) in.

My car works again and I feel I should do something really feminist today. I don’t know, like telling all these women here that men might get married for their own comfort, for being cooked for for the rest of their lives, but that women should do the same. Think of themselves. Funnily, by thinking of myself and by doing nothing, by thinking that the damsel-in-distress act could give me a functioning car without much trouble on my own part, I actually reinforced the ancient-old system.

Perhaps it’s just a bit of a comfort that the person cleaning my house and doing my laundry (and especially ironing it!) is, in fact, a man.