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 outdoors man, 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.
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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.
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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 the directions I was giving him off of the map. He thought I couldn’t read a map just because I am a girl. Two years later, Jason was unable to drive us, so I asked my mom if I could drive.
At this point, I was 18 and had two years driving experience under my belt with no tickets or pullovers. She said “no way!” I argued that Jason had driven us at age 17 and that I had plenty of experience driving (driving back and forth to Milwaukee and Madison for soccer games, and driving my whole family to Green Bay and back while they slept).
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Then I mentioned that she would let me drive if I was a boy, and she refused to answer. I couldn’t believe that my mom was going along with the gender myths. I hated that feeling. The feeling when you are told that you cannot do something because you are a girl.
It fills you with anger but also makes you feel small and helpless. It enforces the idea that you are underprivileged and that you will continue to be for the rest of your life. Too long have I sat in the corner while my family obsesses about how great my cousin is, a heavy drinker, but a football player on a state winning team. Nobody is proud of me because I am the second cousin of twenty to go to college. Nobody heard about the academic honors and scholarships I received from my high school. One year I beat the boys at their stupid game.
My Uncle Bill needed help cutting caterpillar nests out of trees because they were slowly killing the trees. The nests were very high up in the trees, so the cutter needed to be standing on the fully extended bucket of a bobcat and cut the branches holding the nests using giant pruners. My male cousins each refused to do the dangerous task because they were afraid of falling. I volunteered and they said “she can’t do that, are you kidding me.” I looked at my Uncle John and Uncle Bill for support and they decided to give me a chance. I climbed into the bucket with my Uncle John and my Uncle Bill raised us over ten feet into the air.
My Uncle John held the pruners and placed them over a branch as I pulled the string that cut the branch. We had to dodge giant branches filled with caterpillar-filled webs. Almost our whole family (about fifty people) watched as my uncle and I rode in the bucket and cut down all of the nests. When we finished, my Uncle bragged to everyone how I climbed into that bucket without fear and cut down all the nests. He made fun of my male cousins because they were afraid to do what I had accomplished. I had finally gained the respect from the males in my family.
My Uncle died two years ago, but my aunt said that one of his fondest memories were when I cut the caterpillars out of his trees when the boys wouldn’t. I have dealt with gender discrimination all of my life. Granted it has always been very minor cases, but it still weakens my spirit. I want to feel like I can do anything I dream, but sometimes people don’t take me seriously because I am a girl.
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That is why I have been on a conquest to impress and gain the respect of the people in my family who haven’t taken me seriously. I have become a very dedicated skier and soccer player not only because I love the sports, but also because I wish to advance in a male-dominated sport. When I ski or play soccer with my male cousins, they always try to point out my mistakes rather than my talent, even though I am much better than them. It seems like a hopeless goal. No matter how talented I become, I don’t receive their compliments because I am a girl. I hate being from the activities that I love because of my gender.
I hate being told that I can’t possibly do something because I am a girl. I also hate the fact that no matter how much I accomplish, my accomplishments aren’t as important because I was born a girl. Someday, I will show them that I can do anything they can do, better.
