The kinds of invisible labour young women carry
- Being asked ‘How long do I microwave this for?’ by a man nearby as he holds the packet of food, with the cooking instructions in his direct line of vision.
- Being tasked with the role of step-in psychological counsellor whenever your male friend goes through a break-up.
- Being tasked with the role of step-in psychological counsellor whenever your boyfriend goes through a work conflict, friendship disagreement or family drama, because he’s never been taught to discuss anything beyond beers and footy with the boys, saving all of his emotional baggage solely for you.
- Being expected to manage the intensive household chores that require fortnightly upkeep: the toilet, the oven, the fridge and the mould on the bathroom ceiling.
- Thinking about what to cook for dinner. Every. Fucking. Night.
- Coming up with an alternative when your first option ‘isn’t healthy’ or ‘isn’t what I feel like tonight’.
- Buying a birthday card for his brother, sister, mum, dad, uncle, grandpa, chihuahua.
- Organising the present he didn’t even know he needed to buy.
- Wrapping the present he didn’t even know he needed to buy.
- Gifting the present he didn’t even know he needed to buy, at the birthday event he didn’t know he needed to attend.
- Booking movie tickets. And dinner reservations. And doctor’s appointments.
- Remembering the times of all of the above.
- Taking the pill at the same time every day, because of course contraception is your burden to bear.
- Having every single person in the office turn and point to you when they are faced with the most obvious and self-explanatory admin question.
- Brainstorming fun and, more importantly, affordable (!!!) ways to celebrate Andrea from HR’s final day in the office.
- Making sure every single person in the office signs Andrea from HR’s jumbo card in the boardroom before laser tag commences at 3 pm.
- Being relied upon to clear away all the half-filled wine glasses and stack the office dishwasher after Andrea has left the building.
- Being relied upon to unstack the office dishwasher at 9 am the following Monday.
- Feeling like a nag for daring to gently ask a man to do any of the above.
- Silently stewing over the invisible labour of having to think about all that fucking invisible labour.