Open Writing

In her book titled “You Just Don’t Understand’’ Dr. Deborah Tannen elucidates delightfully and convincingly on the topic of gender difference in communication styles.

Initially, I believed her explanations without question. For the first time, I felt that I understood perfectly one of the several puzzling differences between the sexes; not only understood it, but felt very comfortable with the knowledge.

In one of the author’s case examples she talks about the way husbands and wives interact at the end of their working day. Dr. Tannen contends that because men engage in verbal battles with their colleagues as a means of establishing or maintaining their ascendancy in the work place, they are verbally spent at the end of the day. They are therefore unwilling or unable to engage in further communion with their spouse or companion on their return home.

Women, on the other hand, deal with their work-place conflicts in less verbally combative ways, or are isolated in the home all day and have little or no adult conversation, claims the Doctor. This results in their strong desire for conversation at day’s end.

After reading the book, I carefully monitored my own interactions with my male colleagues and with my wife, and concluded that Dr. Tannen’s theories were right on the money.

But subsequently, my security in this knowledge began to crumble, and soon I was struggling desperately to formulate theories of my own. The cause of this gradual disillusionment was my decision to quit my job and work at home.

Just before I made the decision, my wife had moved from a manageably stressful administrative job with a moderate commute, to a much more demanding assignment, and a tough commute that was a job in its self. Our resulting change in lifestyle soon destroyed my secure belief that I understood the causes of gender differences in verbal communication.

Over the first few weeks of our new arrangement, I noticed that I had unconsciously assumed the role of the evening prattler, thirsty for interaction; while my wife’s contribution to our discourse had deteriorated into primeval grunts, or silence. Now she was the one to bury her head in the newspaper after dinner, or to fall asleep watching television.

It would be presumptuous of me to challenge the learned Doctor, but I am inclined to believe that these supposed gender-related phenomena are less a function of gender than of occupation and life style. In other words, circumstance sometimes forces us to unlearn the stereotypical behaviour we acquire earlier in life.

Historically, men have occupied the positions involving large-scale interaction in the work place, and women have not. It could be argued of course that women also have held intensively interactive positions as teachers and nurses all these years. But although some teachers would describe their day as doing verbal battle with their students to maintain their authority, I venture that such conflicts lack some of the dire consequences of losing a verbal battle in the business workplace; such as losing one’s job or incurring a demotion.

At the time of my enlightenment, my wife worked as a senior administrator in a large university. Her daily overdose of conflict, confrontation and challenge came from just about every potentially contentious source imaginable: racial, political, disciplinary, religious, subordinate, supervisor and colleague. At the end of a typical day she had likely chaired four or five weighty meetings, attended several others, dealt with disciplinary matters, and driven 150 miles through metropolitan traffic. No small wonder she was out of small talk by the time she got home.

Aside from the communication switch, my new working environment gave me unanticipated insights into a number of other gender juxtapositions, among them the anxiety of dependency. Through significant periods of my married life I was the sole income provider; initially because it was considered “The right thing to do,’’ and later due to force of circumstance. Throughout these periods I thought of myself as a considerate and consultative husband.

When I was a participant in the corporate, “Move-to-improve’’ syndrome, job changes and relocation were always discussed with my wife and, as they grew older, with my children. It never occurred to me that despite this consultation they could still feel apprehensive about the next move. Or that they could feel vulnerable to the consequences of my failure; or to the possibility that a deterioration of my mental and/or physical health could jeopardize their futures.

Now, for the first time in my life, in my new role as writer/house husband, I had to face the fact that my standard of living and where I live and work, is largely dependent on my wife’s income and success, and on her ability and willingness to continue doing what she does. Her occasional speculation about less remunerative career-moves now gives me a keen sense of the unease that many home-makers must feel when the foundations of their security start to shift.

Though being disabused of one’s beliefs is like losing an old and trusted friend, I confess to being fascinated by the revelations stemming from my change in life-style. It seems to me that being shown another perspective on one’s world is a privilege, especially in later life.

There is a tendency to believe we all function in the same world, but our world is, after all, how we perceive it. Walking a mile in someone else’s shoes can dramatically change that perception.