Bob, Bo, Boone, Brad, Bruce, Brian, Doug, Ken, Chris, Ian, Alan, Ray, Glenn- we are a couple of gals supported and advised by a whole platoon of men. In our journey through the construction landscape we’ve had more interactions with men than we’ve had in the past twenty years. The only woman we’ve encountered is Michelle at the county, who is our plans examiner. Got to hand it to her for sailing against the gender wind.
It’s been interesting terrain for a same-sex female couple to navigate- a world of barrel chests and crew cuts, giant pick up trucks, and meatball sandwiches the size of footballs. But I’ve come to appreciate these men who, for the most part, have been very helpful and generous with their time and advice. Maybe it’s the unusualness of us, or maybe it’s a certain masculine protectiveness that comes up around women, although we certainly aren’t the girly girls that I’m sure are on the construction company calendars back in the office. Doug, our electrical consultant, who is the most communicative of the bunch, told us he was afraid we might be taken advantage of if he didn’t talk to the SIP people directly. He’s also the only one with the forthrightness to actually say the L word. “My ex-wife turned into a lesbian and now she’s my best friend,” he told us, shortly after the first handshake.
Communication skills are not highly ranked among most of these men. We’ve moved on to the next pick after many initial visits that were a barrage of talk, as if we weren’t even standing there. And then there are the silent types. Ian, our structural engineer and plans drawer, presents a new set of plans, decorated with mysteriously coded symbols and unrequested design changes, by rolling them out on the desk and then leaning back in his chair in blank silence. He prefers yes or no questions, so our conversations sound like a game of twenty questions. I never realized that ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’ questions can actually be answered with yes or no.
But a little persistence usually gets the required information. It’s not that they’re trying to be difficult, it’s just that these men have had to adjust to a hard-as-nails male world, where you don’t let too much of yourself slip through the strong-jawed façade. As I’ve watched their broad shouldered backs hunch over a set of plans or over foundation forms, and watched them muscle boulders and twist together rebar, I’ve grown more compassion for men who earn a living by breaking down their bodies. The younger ones are tied up in tight muscle, and the older ones walk with stiff backs and limping joints. My guess is that for most of them, what they’re doing was not how they had imagined their lives. Ray the Excavator told us how he was in college when he got his girlfriend pregnant, and had to drop out and get a job wherever he could. That turned out to be excavating. Twenty years later, he has a son in college and he’s still moving dirt.
Chris and Ray have been working together forever, and they dance delicately around each other in their two backhoes, loading the dump truck in perfect, wordless synchrony. Yet when I take their picture standing together in the giant hold that they just spent five days digging, I jokingly say ‘put your arms around each other!’, which brings about a predictable jumping apart and the required chorus of ‘no way!’ and ‘eeewww!’. I feel sad when I see that.
I’m so grateful that my life has been in a softer body, and in a softer world. And I also so appreciate these men who are bringing the strength and stamina of their bodies to our house project. I appreciate their willingness to take at face value these two women who do not complement their traditional masculinity with a more familiar type of femininity. I appreciate their sense of artistry and integrity, and the pride that comes from knowing their corner of the universe very well. And I appreciate the balancing energy that they bring to our project. As Thich Nhat Hahn says, paper is made up of non-paper elements. And our female-centered house will be made up of non-female elements.
It’s been interesting terrain for a same-sex female couple to navigate- a world of barrel chests and crew cuts, giant pick up trucks, and meatball sandwiches the size of footballs. But I’ve come to appreciate these men who, for the most part, have been very helpful and generous with their time and advice. Maybe it’s the unusualness of us, or maybe it’s a certain masculine protectiveness that comes up around women, although we certainly aren’t the girly girls that I’m sure are on the construction company calendars back in the office. Doug, our electrical consultant, who is the most communicative of the bunch, told us he was afraid we might be taken advantage of if he didn’t talk to the SIP people directly. He’s also the only one with the forthrightness to actually say the L word. “My ex-wife turned into a lesbian and now she’s my best friend,” he told us, shortly after the first handshake.
Communication skills are not highly ranked among most of these men. We’ve moved on to the next pick after many initial visits that were a barrage of talk, as if we weren’t even standing there. And then there are the silent types. Ian, our structural engineer and plans drawer, presents a new set of plans, decorated with mysteriously coded symbols and unrequested design changes, by rolling them out on the desk and then leaning back in his chair in blank silence. He prefers yes or no questions, so our conversations sound like a game of twenty questions. I never realized that ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’ questions can actually be answered with yes or no.
But a little persistence usually gets the required information. It’s not that they’re trying to be difficult, it’s just that these men have had to adjust to a hard-as-nails male world, where you don’t let too much of yourself slip through the strong-jawed façade. As I’ve watched their broad shouldered backs hunch over a set of plans or over foundation forms, and watched them muscle boulders and twist together rebar, I’ve grown more compassion for men who earn a living by breaking down their bodies. The younger ones are tied up in tight muscle, and the older ones walk with stiff backs and limping joints. My guess is that for most of them, what they’re doing was not how they had imagined their lives. Ray the Excavator told us how he was in college when he got his girlfriend pregnant, and had to drop out and get a job wherever he could. That turned out to be excavating. Twenty years later, he has a son in college and he’s still moving dirt.
Chris and Ray have been working together forever, and they dance delicately around each other in their two backhoes, loading the dump truck in perfect, wordless synchrony. Yet when I take their picture standing together in the giant hold that they just spent five days digging, I jokingly say ‘put your arms around each other!’, which brings about a predictable jumping apart and the required chorus of ‘no way!’ and ‘eeewww!’. I feel sad when I see that.
I’m so grateful that my life has been in a softer body, and in a softer world. And I also so appreciate these men who are bringing the strength and stamina of their bodies to our house project. I appreciate their willingness to take at face value these two women who do not complement their traditional masculinity with a more familiar type of femininity. I appreciate their sense of artistry and integrity, and the pride that comes from knowing their corner of the universe very well. And I appreciate the balancing energy that they bring to our project. As Thich Nhat Hahn says, paper is made up of non-paper elements. And our female-centered house will be made up of non-female elements.
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