Not many young women describe themselves as, "their father's son," but I do for many reasons.My father is an old fashioned man born at the tail end of the 1950s. He is not a professor or a teacher, but he has taught me more than anyone in higher education ever could.
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My father believes that it's a man's job to make a living and a woman's job to make a life. The woman's job being just as important as the man's.
Big, burly and bearded, the joke was on him when I was born. Brown eyed and olive skinned, I was the spitting image of him, but most definitely female.
Another surprise came when my sister was born.
How was he (a "man's man") going to raise two daughters?
His old world views were altered quickly, wanting my sister and me to grow up with the same opportunities as any man.
There was no longer a proper definition for a "man's job," or a "woman's job," in his mind. There was only the idea that his children should grow up unyielding and independent.
In response his changing opinion, I grew up in ripped up jeans and over sized Harley Davidson t-shirts, helping my dad work on cars in his garage.
Never once did he tell my sister or I that we "couldn't" or "shouldn't" help him change the drum breaks on his 1964 Ford Galaxie.
"Pass me that socket wrench," he'd ask of us, expecting us to know what was what.
When he put a wood burning stove in our basement, he expected us to help him haul wood just as he would expect of any son.
We learned hard work first hand, unafraid to do it ourselves.
The day I turned 16, his gift to me was a replica of a civil war sword, because I had reveled in the unfairness of young men receiving pocket knives for significant time periods in their lives, when young women didn't.
I became interested in sports like karate, and he always encouraged me. Although it was not ideal in my mother's opinion, my father never suggested I should be more "lady like." He expected me to work just as hard as any boy, regardless of other people's perception of me.
My father taught me how to shoot a gun, how to catch and clean a fish, how to grout tile and so much more.
Even though at 21, I have rounded out my harsh edges with makeup and properly fitted clothes (I must confess, I have not worn a Harley Davidson shirt in quite some time) I will always cherish the fact that my father never raised my sister and me any differently than he would have raised two sons.
I did not grow up believing that there was a "woman's job," or a "mans job." It was all just work that needed to be done and if you could do it, why wouldn't you?
I will never be afraid to get my hands dirty.
I will never be scared of hard work.
I will never sit back in the hopes of my prince charming arriving on horse back to come save me.
I will know, without any doubt, that I am fully capable of saving myself.
