I spent both days of the weekend at a gender reconciliation workshop. It will take me a while to work out what I think about it. There were stories that were deeply moving, of poverty, injustice, hardship, fear, uncertainty, failed relationships, inadequate parenting, sexual violence...the list is long, the pain is deep.
While not necessarily indicative of the weekend's work, below is one thing a woman said. It took me by surprise in it's brevity and clarity. It struck a chord.
When I find the plate that you haven’t put in the dishwasher, I am annoyed.
We talk and sort it out.
The next time I find the plate that you haven’t put in the dishwasher, I am hurt.
We talk and sort it out.
The next time I find the plate that you haven’t put in the dishwasher, I am angry.
We talk and sort it out. You start putting a lot of plates in the dishwasher, for quite some time.
The next time I find the plate that you haven’t put in the dishwasher, I withdraw.
You wonder why.
The next time I find the plate that you haven’t put in the dishwasher, you have lost me.
You don’t know why. Neither of us knows what the plate stands for anymore.
It's that simple. Or perhaps it's that complicated.
1 comment:
Beautiful but sad, perhaps because I can relate to it only too well. Damn those pesky plates.
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