We’re having a conversation, when the words come out of his mouth. “Give me crap”.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles and my face flushes hot with anger.

“Why is it that when you have a problem with the way I do something.. And you bring it up… It’s called ‘communication’, but when I have a problem with the way you do something… And I bring it up, it’s called “giving you crap?” I ask.

He can’t answer, but automatically goes on the defensive.

“Look, Adam. I get it. I used to be part of the geek community too. I used to be friends with gamers and programmers. I understand how you talk about women. I used to talk about women that ‘gave their husbands crap’, too.” I pause. “But I always thought that only applied to when people were being completely irrational. I don’t think that what I’m saying is irrational. You’ve made similar requests from me and I have never told you that you were ‘giving me crap’. I’m concerned that the communities you are still part of are causing you to view me through a particular lens that I don’t really appreciate.”

Truth is, I never really imagined myself in the shoes of a housewife. I’ve never really identified as a woman, never wanted kids. But here I am, married to a man and we have quite a few kids. I’m a non-binary housewife, somehow.

And I’m learning that it’s a load of horsepucky.

I never consented to any of this. I never consented to the defaults that I’ve landed in. I’ve never agreed to take care of the things that I take care of. We never had a conversation where I agreed to be the manager of the household. Where I agreed to schedule and plan everything. Our agreements were always that we should take responsibility for our lives and do what we see needs doing.

So how’d it get to this point? I’m thinking a lot about that and trying to break it down.