What was she wearing?
This post is not about politics! (I couldn’t find an image of women hating women that didn’t include the president’s name and damn I do not want to show that guy at all on this page.)(So I guess it’s all political after all.)
But about something that can be just as toxic: family.
Until I met Mr T’s family, I did not know how awful family could be. I had always dismissed stories of bad families with a bit of (internal) “Well what did you do to deserve their anger?”
I blamed the victim.
I was so wrong.
(Honestly that has become the story of my life in the past few years, as I have learned about systemic racism and the patriarchy and – well – everything. I. Was. So. Wrong.)
The first time I met Mr T’s parents – we went to their home in Florida, getting up at 4:00 a.m. to get on a plane, fly to Jacksonville, rent a car, and then drive an hour to their house (That is, we spent money on plane tickets and a car – they didn’t pick us up), they pretty much ignored me.
We got to their house at about 1:00 p.m.
Now I don’t know about you all, but the second someone crosses the threshold of my house, I ask if they want something to eat and/or drink.
NOBODY WILL THIRST OR HUNGER IN MY HOME.
Mr T’s parents barely looked at me.
We sat in the living room and they talked to Mr T.
Nothing to me.
No questions.
No interest in me at all.
To be fair, they were disposed not to like me. I had asked Mr T to make sure we would not be sharing a bedroom at their house because I thought it would be too weird to sleep in the same bed as my not-married-to boyfriend under his parents’ roof.
Turns out they got all pissy about that, not necessarily because of any moral issues but because it meant they needed to clear some of the junk out of the spare room so Mr T would have a place to sleep.
They did clear a small space, but barely, and when they died ten years later, Mr T still had to throw out a ton of crap. They never did do any Death Cleaning.
(Also, Mr T had given them the link to my old blog, where I wrote a lot about my opinions, many of which I no longer hold because I WAS WRONG. I should note that this was 20 years ago and I never indicated I would support a would-be dictator which would be reason for them to reject me but of course I did and I do not. He didn’t even think about their not liking my opinions – he just thought I was a good writer and they would like it.)
(He was very, very wrong.)
(Although the main reason they never liked me is because they saw love as a zero-sum game and any love Mr T gave to me was love he was taking from them.)
Like – they didn’t ask me one single question about myself.
NOT ONE.
Not even, “How did you meet Mr T? Isn’t he the most wonderful person you have ever known? Let’s talk about how amazing he is.”
Nope. Not even that.
After about 30 minutes, 30 minutes of waiting for them to offer me water or lunch or even a damn snack, I was getting very thirsty. So I asked if I could have a drink of water.
Without looking at me, they told Mr T to get it for me and carried on.
I followed Mr T into the kitchen and whispered, “I’m hungry! Are they going to give us lunch?”
To which he replied that they didn’t eat lunch.
My friends.
Years ago, I didn’t drink coffee, but I made sure to have it in my cupboard in case a guest wanted it.
That is Host 101.
You feed your guests.
Our relationship did not get any better and when they were especially bothered about something – like Mr T not spending every holiday with them, which he did for the first few years after his divorce and before he met me, they blamed me.
Mr T’s parents – especially his mom – got angry not with him but with me if they didn’t get the letters they expected or the thank-you notes or the birthday gifts or the mother’s and father’s day acknowledgments they wanted.
We women are in charge of the thank you notes and the birthday cards and the relationships. If a relationship is bad, it is clearly our fault.
But even though I know it’s always The Woman’s Fault, I was still surprised at how this letter to the advice columnist turned out.
The letter writer blames the sister-in-law for the bad relationship the letter writer has with the letter writer’s brother – which yeah, OF COURSE IT’S THE SISTER-IN-LAW’S/WOMAN’S FAULT, but when I figured out – at the end – that the letter writer is also a woman, I gasped.
The fact that her brother doesn’t call her isn’t on her brother but is on her brother’s wife?
WTAF?
From the Washington Post (yes, I know. We cancelled month ago but they are still giving us access)
Although I’m six years older than my brother, I have always considered us close. After our parents passed many years ago, that all seemed to change. I’m thankful for holidays and our birthdays as they are now the only time I get a phone call. On every anniversary of our mom and dad’s birth or death day, I have texted a “Thinking of” message to my brother. He has always responded. This year, on our father’s birthday, I didn’t text him as I was sick with covid and pneumonia. I did receive a quick text of acknowledgment late that night. Within my response, I let him know of my illness. He replied with a “Get well soon.”
At 72, this recent illness had me down for more than a month. I expected that he’d phone to check on me but I’ve yet to receive one. I’m reevaluating my relationship with my brother. Although he’s an intelligent man, a good father and husband, he’s married to a demanding wife who hasn’t encouraged me and my husband to be close with them nor my nieces and nephews. When my husband and I visit once or twice a year, we feel it’s more of an obligation on their part than a warm connection. I’m tired of it.
(I am assuming this is a heterosexual couple because of the age of the writer.)
The LW is unhappy about the relationship with her brother and it’s all the sister-in-law’s fault.
Why is the SIL supposed to encourage a close relationship? Why isn’t the brother at fault?
(And let’s not even get into the fact that the LW visits once or twice a year – does the LW invite the brother and SIL to her house? Is the brother even inviting the LW or is she inviting herself? Twice a year visits would be a lot. And what’s keeping the LW from contacting the nieces and nephews directly and developing that relationship on her own? SO MUCH WRONG WITH THIS LETTER.)
(I also think death anniversaries are weird weird weird. Yeah, I think about my dad on his death anniversary, but my family and I don’t make A Thing about it.)
Anyhow I have no words of wisdom about this situation or about anything, really, except that I needed to unlearn my own internalized misogyny when I was confronted with it from Mr T’s mother. It wasn’t easy to undo decades of programming and I’m sure I’m still not done.
But damn I am starting to understand – not approve – understand a bit some of the women who voted for that guy. They hate themselves and they hate other women.
Texan in Exile 