the neutral zone

At college, we voted on which bathrooms, which dorms would be gender-neutral.

How strange, how dream-like the past sometimes seems. Iowa: a far-off place.

I think, as a Grinnellian, I saw these decisions as purely logical--they were the conversations we needed to be having as a college campus about what not only our individual but our collective approach to gendered space would be: we were ready to have these conversations, and there was a need for these conversations to move forward. And the beauty of these conversations didn't really hit me until this weekend--nearly a year and a half past graduating.

I think for the past year living here, I've noticed--and in some ways been exposed to the gendered-ness of society here. but without living with a family, and without spending significant time within a family, it's hard to really see the extent to which gender norms are enforced/at play within the private sphere. Within the public it's an entirely different matter (and one which I could and most likely will speak at length on for the rest of my days).

 in my observations, oftentimes men and women occupy separate social spaces--even within the same room: sitting or congregating around different centers--even if the conversation transcends these boundaries. Last weekend, visiting some family, it was almost as if there were a line drawn across the room--or an unspoken rule guiding us each to our seats. Often, perhaps because the language barrier is greater with women of Zeko's parents generation, sitting with the other women--sharing this space with them (and yet rarely truly following conversation)--feels somehow intimate ("Woman Space"), as if I am witnessing (and sometimes stepping into) their private conversations, which  (for all I know) they don't have in the presence of men. (But, I guess, every conversation feels private when you can't fuly understand it, instead just watching it flow along--and can I really judge what topics are tabooed by gender?). However, watching women talk together--there's a manner of speaking, intonation, smiles and gestures which I don't see nearly as much when women and men share the same conversation.

I think a lot of these thoughts/conversations about the organization of the private sphere stem from starting to visit the bevy of aunts, uncles and cousins (oh. my. lord. how do they ever keep themselves straight?) and feeling that I am stepping into a rhythm of living which I am markedly unaccustomed to. And--it should be noted--that these comments on gender are very much colored by my own 'guest-ness' in most of these instances--but if anything, being a guest often times gives me a (sometimes uncomfortable) window into both worlds. As a guest--I am often treated like 'a man' (read a guest) even while, in actuality, occupy another role and thus set of norms. In some ways, I'm learning to think about, feel out and act in space in an entirely new way, because I don't remember feeling this divide, seeing this separation between men and women within the home, back Home. Yes. I understand (to some degree) the cultural/historical reasons which created these spaces, but no. I still don't know, truly, how to behave in them.

an example: visiting friends/extended family in our generation, young. I sit down with the other people around the woodstove--all of whom are men. and I only start to feel out of place after drinking half a glass of beer--and realizing that there are no other women sitting with us (they are taking care of babies, doing dishes, in short: being Women), and certainly no other women (there were only two--so perhaps statistically speaking, I need a bigger n) are drinking beer. In this moment, I feel like I ended up in the wrong space all of a sudden, following the wrong norms. behaving like a man.

With Zeko's family, it's getting easier: I no longer feel like a guest with a capital G--and can (usually) with relative ease assume a seat with the women and eavesdrop on their conversations unashamedly, and sometimes am allowed to help in the kitchen. But there are other times when I hesitate when we walk into an unfamiliar livingroom. Will there be women in this room?  (not always). Do I enter into this woman space, in which I sometimes feel like I am intruding through listening intently to other people's conversations (the awkwardness of which is added to by never really contributing to said conversations, only absorbing), or do I sit with Zeko (and thus with the men) in what feels like the "guest" seat (certainly a seat of honor), know that I will have access to translation should I need it, and still feel markedly out of place because of my gender (and thus the codes and norms tied up with that)? (which perhaps begs the question, does the term 'guest' have gender in and of itself?)

I'm curious to return to the States--because I can't tell if my memories of home--especially around this issue of gender--are accurate anymore. Is gender really not as important as I remember it to be? (without meaning to imply that gender is not important in the states. of course it is). Is the blur between gender norms quite as rich as I remember? do men really do the dishes and straighten up the house on their own accord, or am I dreaming?  and how will I see Home differently now, after feeling my gender to be such a large determinate of my social being here? What are the new norms I will now be able to feel out upon returning?

or another day, going with Zeko and a friend to a pizza place in a village and walking into the bathroom to realize that they only had a men's room (gender neutral? not exactly but...) because, I assume, only men (or very few women) frequented the shop.

This episode, standing in front of the only bathroom door--wondering if I should indeed enter it, reminds me of a precious line from a classmate of mine in elementary school "maybe girls just want to be boys for a day." and this idea keeps haunting me--because it's so applicable to my life here because I feel in so many ways constrained by (rather than celebratory of) my gender.