Women Studies

Caterpillars and Cousins

You know that feeling. When you can feel the blood gathering in your cheeks, your clammy fists clench, and your limbs tingle, wanting to spring out and smash something. Then you yell, whine, complain to anyone who will listen. Their only condolence is, "boys will be boys".

Every year in August, my family on my mom's side gathers at my aunt and uncle's house for a family reunion. They own a huge portion of land in the heart of Missouri containing several ponds, a creek, a golf course and lots of camping area. The property is a haven for the outdoorsman, which seems to inspire testosterone in my uncles, male cousins, and even my father.

I have been a tomboy since I could walk; I always preferred building forts outside to playing with Barbies. I played soccer instead of volleyball, I bathed in a creek instead of the bathtub, and I rode my bike more than I walked. I HATED wearing dresses and often preferred running around in the dirty jeans and an oversized tee-shirt. I was deemed "the weird kid" in elementary school. As a child, my feisty nature compelled me to argue for respect and attention from the adults in my boy-favoring family. My grandmother especially favored my male cousins over the female cousins; however, my constant spirit and determination won my Grandmother's attention and honor of being her favorite grandchild.

We have several traditions at the Schulz family reunion including tractor rides, storytelling, and card tournaments. Then, there were the traditions that I fought: the men's fishing trips, golf, and horseshoe tournaments while the women make dinner. After the daylong events, the men would arrive back to the campsite, eat the prepared food, and go back to their previous activities while the women cleaned up and did the dishes. Out of the four days, the men made possibly one meal. I brought this up to my mom, and she replied by saying "If we didn't do it, the men never would."

Being a very "boyish" girl, I always wanted to go on the fishing trips. What could be more fun than riding a mile on a trailer pulled by a tractor down a giant hill on a snake infested path to a creek filled with bass, frogs and other Missouri natives? One time, I got the courage to ask my dad if I could go on the fishing trip. Now, my dad usually encouraged me to participate in male-dominated sports such as skiing and soccer. I even went fishing and golfing with him several times at home, and we would always have a great time. As all the men stared at me with smirks on my face, my dad told me that I couldn't go on the trip because I was too young. My cousin, just a year older, staring at me with a satisfied sneer was allowed to go just because he was a boy. I gave my dad an angry and betrayed look as my cousins laughed and taunted me. The rest of the afternoon, I refused to help with dinner and angrily fished by myself.

When my dad arrived back from the expedition, I wouldn't speak to him. He didn't even care. Whenever he was around my uncles and male cousins, he would laugh at all their sexist jokes, ignore me, and put on a fake persona to impress the other men. The part I hated the most was that my uncles and father would treat my male cousins as adults and my sisters, female cousins, and I as children. These were the male cousins that ran my aunt's golf carts into each other, swore because they thought it was cool, and continuously teased the girls because they (the boys) had more privileges.

My uncle Bill, the owner of the Missouri property was always the heart of our family reunions. It was his tractor rides, jokes, and stories that made every year more exciting than the last. He usually coordinated the fishing trips, golf tournaments, work crews, and poker tournaments. My uncle loved to drink beer and hang out with the men. Since he was my oldest uncle, and the oldest male at the campsite, everybody had great respect for him. His stories revealed his life to be full of wild experiences and amazing people. Everyone always knew that Uncle Bill favored the male cousins also. He served as their teacher of how to unhook a catfish, how to catch a vicious snake, and how to drink a beer like a man.

At age 17, just one year younger than Jason, my smirking male cousin, the adults allowed Jason to drink beer all day and play drinking games with the men at night. He also got very drunk on several occasions. My twenty-four year old cousin also got very drunk and she received lots of crap from people for it. Somehow it was acceptable for the men to drink too much, but the women were irresponsible if they did. I was not allowed to have a wine cooler with the rest of my cousins because I was a girl. I was expected to sit in the circle of complaining women while the boys were allowed to play poker and drink. I bothered my mom the entire night trying to get her to give me a reason why Jason could drink and I couldn't. I really had no interest in drinking, but I was angry because of the injustice of the situation. All she could come up with was that "he was older."(and less mature, I thought).

There was also a case where my mom doubted my ability because I was a girl. At the young age of 17, my mom entrusted my sister and my life with my cousin Jason on a road trip to Missouri. The drive is about seven hours on interstates. We planned to go to the reunion early with my cousins Jason and Megan. My mom didn't even hesitate to let us go with Jason, despite the fact that she had never seen his driving. We made it to Missouri in five hours because we maintained speeds of about ninety the whole way and managed to maneuver around slow cars. The next year, Jason got lost in St. Louis because he wouldn't listen to