My spying mission began our first morning in
Portland. Steve and I were staying at
the amazing Hotel Deluxe and decided
to splurge for our first breakfast in town and eat in their dining room. Vaulted ceilings painted white with gilt
trim, huge crystal chandeliers, white linen table cloths, and soft jazz music
set the scene for what was, indeed, a delicious breakfast. There were only a few people in the dining
room with us and my attention fell on the middle-aged couple at the nearest
table. Steve left to grab a cigarette
before our meal arrived and, being alone, I did what I always have done. I listened to what everyone around me were
saying.
The first thing I noticed about the couple was that the
man had a newspaper open in his hands and was reading it while the woman sat
with her hands in her lap. He wore heavy
rimmed glasses and sipped coffee while he read.
She picked up a piece of the newspaper and glanced at it, then set it
down. He continued to read. She attempted to get his attention by
pointing out something on the page she had looked at. He grunted and kept reading. She got up and left the table without him
seeming to notice and then came back, again without much acknowledgment. She looked at her phone, read a message,
tapped him on the arm and quietly shared it with him. He glanced up while she read to him, nodded,
went back to reading. When their
breakfasts arrived, the newspaper was put away and he finally turned his
attention (somewhat) to his dining partner.
And he began to talk. And
talk. And talk. Even with his mouth full.
The trip continued.
Breakfast was the best meal at which to do research because the crowds
were thinner and it was easier to listen.
At a café in Portland we sat next to a young couple who both looked at
their phones almost the entire time they were waiting for their
breakfasts. That was a weird one. Things got really crazy when we hit the
Oregon Coast. Sitting in a charming café
in the Nye Beach area of Newport, I was able to listen to about 45 minutes of
an older man “lecturing” to his younger, female companion, whom I believe was
Japanese from her accented, murmured replies.
At first I thought he was her boss, or a more experienced colleague, as
he pontificated about now horrible the state medical program was. Maybe I just didn’t like him because of his
naming calling against liberals. But no,
he was just a jerk. She sat there
quietly as he lectured and when he paused for a breath, she would ask him a
question about himself and bring on a whole new lecture. Was that cultural? I wondered. As an Asian woman, showing deference to a man
is certainly more common than here in America, right? Maybe not.
In Medford, we stayed at a nicer motel. The continental breakfast was not much to
speak of, but the dining room was full of examples of men talking far more than
their female companions. And not just
more than, but louder than. Often so
loudly that the entire dining room was subjected to their opinions. I found that the most irritating part of my
casual social experiment. It is one
thing when I want to listen in on
someone’s conversation and a completely different thing when I am forced to do so.
Once we were home, I forgot about my social experiment
for a while. I would sometimes notice,
at club meetings or in social settings, how dominant the male voices were, but
I had a life to lead and concerts to attend that summer. Then one morning in early October, in San
Francisco for the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass concert at Golden Gate Park to hear
my beloved Glen Hansard play, Steve and I found ourselves waiting in line to
get breakfast just outside of Union Square.
Behind us in line was a young man and woman, maybe mid-20s. They were obviously in a very early part of
their relationship. You could tell this
by their awkward body language. You
could also tell this by the way the young man talked, starting every sentence
with “I” as he explained all his likes and dislikes to his companion. He told an occasional brief story about
himself, as well. They ended up sitting
next to us in the crowded crepe shop and his monologue continued for our entire
meal. She said one or two things in
reply to what he had said, but she did not get to tell any stories or discuss
her own likes and dislikes or how clever or quirky she was. In fact, in the hour we spent “with” this
couple, he never asked her a single question about herself or responded to what
she had said except to launch into another story about himself.
Two weeks ago, I had dinner with a single woman friend of
mine. She had just begun to tell me
about a man she was spending some time with when he called her. For the next 5 or so minutes, I sat looking
at my meal, awkwardly trying not to listen in on their conversation. But, you know, I’m me, so I did. And from the moment she answered the phone
until she hung up, the only thing I heard out of her mouth were questions about
him and his day, what he was feeling, and an occasional murmured consolation
when he obviously said how rough things had been. When she ended the call, I asked her point
blank, “Did he ask you a single question about yourself?” She made excuses for what a long day he had
had and how tired he was, but answered that no, in fact, he had not asked her
anything about herself. All I could do
was shrug.
My social experiment is by no means scientific nor am I trying
to say that all men are as self-centered as the one’s I have spied on. In fact, Steve listens to me every day as I go
on and on and on about the state of the world in which we live. Of course, I pause for breath often and ask
him his opinions, which he sometimes will voice. But I still do most of the talking in our
home. And no theory is ever 100% true
when we’re dealing with human beings.
What is true, however, as evidenced by the way Hillary Clinton was
treated by the media and her opponents during the election (except Bernie!), is
that men do contribute to conversations at a much higher percentage than women
do, in politics, in the work place and in social settings. And because we like to think of ourselves as
a progressive country and all that that implies, this is something that we, as
a culture and a nation, need to acknowledge and explore so we can change
it. Take it from an intelligent woman
who has been interrupted and mansplained to for decades, it hurts to have your
opinions devalued or ignored because of your gender. And it hurts our society, too, in more ways
than I think we realize.
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| The Dining Room in the Hotel Deluxe, Portland, Oregon |
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