Irene Whitfield Chisholm

I think I should start with my father who was a gentleman and may have merely had a male superiority complex. Most of the males I have known were so afflicted though some of my uncles seem to be excepted and were normal lovable people. Art, Hortie and Millard to wit.
Back to my Dad. 'Girls can't throw a ball straight,' he told the world in general and had a small lecture to prove it. Consequently I was reluctant to try. I was a preschooler then and on try proved to me he was right so I didn't try again for years. I never did learn to throw a ball properly not nearly so well as the other girls did. I often think that attitude is the reason there were so many things girls couldn't do.
The next thing I remember was being told that girls couldn't learn to sharpen pencils properly. I was about eight, then. I promptly borrowed a knife and sharpened my pencil. I did as well as the big boys had and better than my little brother. Dad was disbelieving, but I had witnesses. I could and I did and I was a girl.
The next thing was whistling. Girls can't, you know, and they should not. Who ever heard of a girl whistling? I had to learn in private or be hooted at. But I learned and they heard plenty of whistling from this girl.
It was then that I realized that a girl can do anything she is allowed to do if she wants to.
Grandpa Howe was a bit different. He didn't just say that girls couldn't. He forbade me, personally. When I was little, he forbade me to use the carpentry tools. I thought at first he was afraid I would spoil them. Not so! He let my younger brothers use them. I wanted to make things, but girls did not do that. I had no girls to play with and was forbidden boys' pastimes. Life got pretty bleak in spots. I was not even allowed to learn to milk the cows. He said there were enough boys in the family to milk the cows and that was true. But I wanted to and sometimes it would have been handy. He did allow me to weed the garden, but not to use any tools. Why, I wonder. Not even a hoe! Though sometimes I did anyway. Sometimes I talked Ray into trading jobs with me for a short time. He used the hoe.
Sometimes I helped Grandma in her garden (strictly flowers). I think Gramp didn't like flowers much. He groused about my doing that but did not forbid it. One time thought I thought the flower garden needed some fertilizer and went up to the manure pile and got half a bucket of chicken manure. Gramp started yelling like crazy and accusing me of stealing. Stealing manure for Grandma's garden! Stealing chicken manure? Incredible. He must have had tons of the stuff. Why, why, why? I thought maybe he didn't like me but maybe he was losing his marbles, who knows. I try to be helpful, and get the devil. What is a girl to do?
One day I found two wild flowers that I had never seen before. One was an evening primrose, I think. I still don't know the other one. I was looking at them for some time, trying to memorize how they looked. Later Grandma said Gramp had said I was worshipping some flowers and I must not do that anymore, and that he destroyed them so I wouldn't. I was upset and very near tears and told Grandma I was only trying to memorize them and now I couldn't. She cautioned me not to cry because then he would be sure he was right. So I had to control my temper and I do have one, and not cry and I was very angry and when I am mad I always cry and that time I couldn't. I have never forgotten, though.
I was quite little when Grandpa taught me to weed carrots. I was slow but he said I did a good job. Probably a year or so later he had Carol & Florence over to help with the weeding. They worked faster. It seems they were used to using a trowel. We had no trowels so someone whittled some sticks to the appropriate size and shape. Gramp wouldn't let me use one, so the girls worked much faster than I could. I was quite envious. It was such a little thing and not much point to it. But why?
Later, I found this taboo seemed to apply to all tools and me. Like Ray could hoe. I had to stick to weeding. No hoeing, except when I talked Ray into trading, on the sly, of course.
Until even when I was a teenager and my girlfriend had a baby and wanted me to help, including the laundry. Her husband brought the laundry, and I was to wash it in Grandma's machine. No dice! Gramp raised a row. No way was I to touch that machine. After awhile Grandma lost her temper, too. 'Do you think' she asked, quite loudly for her, 'that I should do it?' She won the battle and I did the wash.
I think Gramp really believed that men were in all ways superior to women. He probably convinced his sons of that but not his granddaughter. That irritated him. In fact we irritated each other. Nevertheless I feel that he was quite sincere in his belief.
I remember one time when I brought home my report card there was a tiny '1' beside my math grade. He wanted to know 'why?' I explained it was Mr. Willis' idea to mark the grade position as well as the grade and I was number one in the class. 'But aren't there any boys in the class?' 'Yes, several,' I replied. He looked unbelieving. The custom was discontinued. Gramp had considerable influence at school, an ex-director and such.
You would think he would be proud. He was when I won a music scholarship, but 'girls were not good in math'. Maybe he was afraid I might be good with tools is why he never let me use them. He was quite upset when Uncle Bill taught me to start the [Deler] motor in the evening. He didn't get home soon enough and the chickens needed the lights.

Irene & Jack
Chisholm's
Link Page

IRENE'S DIARY

Part One, 1909-1916
Part Two, summer 1916
Part Three, 1916 on.
Songs & Rhymes
Chickens
Dogs
Wild Animals
Bathrooms
Odds & Ends
Fragments of Stories