It’s been said, here at least, that when someone uses the term “emotional labour” unironically, the person doing the mouthing is most likely a bit of a nightmare. Say, the kind of woman who complains about the “emotional labour” of hiring a domestic cleaner. Or the kind who bitches about her husband and his shortcomings in the pages of a national magazine, where friends and colleagues of said husband, and perhaps his own children, can read on with amusement.
“Then I tried to gingerly explain the concept of emotional labour… Delegating work to other people, i.e. telling him to do something he should instinctively know to do, is exhausting. I tried to tell him that I noticed the box [of gift wrap] at least 20 times over the past two days. He had noticed it only when I was heaving it onto the top shelf instead of asking for help. The whole explanation took a lot of restraint.”
“Even having a conversation about the imbalance of emotional labour becomes emotional labour.”
Ah. Now there’s a thought worth pondering, perhaps at length. Instead of, say, rushing to doctrinaire posturing and self-flattering excuses.
“Yet I find myself worrying about how the mental load bore almost exclusively by women translates into a deep gender inequality.”
Never mind. 🙂
Really, read the whole thing.
I’m not sure if this is more of a “Bitches Be Crazy” or a “Shut up, bitch” scenario. Bit of both, maybe? Yeah, let’s go with “bit of both”.