If men stopped working…the world would continue on.
If women stopped working, then things would get ugly.
What?
there has been an instance where this happened. it was 1975 and icelandic women decided not to work for one day.
working as in cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children, doing chores and so on, not only “not showing up to your workplace”. women did nothing that day, except showing up in reykjavik and protesting for gender equality, equal pay and equal representation in parliament, you know, cool stuff.
you know what happened? havoc. men were left with food to cook and children they never took care of to pick up from kindergarden and entertain for the day. they went en masse to the food shops buying sausages because they could cook nothing else, they had to bond with children they never spent more than a couple hours a day with. they struggled combining their work day and the domestic tasks they had to sort out. and this just for one day.
iceland in 1975 stopped working and things indeed got ugly. so ugly that women in the following decades became woke AF and soon it happened that women became president, took half of the seats in parliament and achieved one of the best living environments in the world.
is your astonishment solved now?
We already know what happens to countries when the majority of the male workforce is removed. It is called “war.”
If you want to read Highly Documented and Very Historical accounts of how countries function without internal male labor, you can start by diving in to World War 1 and World War 2! (I’m just gonna talk about the Allied forces because my English is best
and I know the most about them, but the Axis powers had similar
dynamics!)
See, when the warring civilizations threw every able-bodied man they could at war fronts all over the planet, this left enormous labor vacuums. Not only did the countries have to function without male labor, but they also had to funnel vast amounts of food, clothing, ammunition and weapons to the men in combat. By WW2, women were needed in every possible role that didn’t include active combat.
If you send millions of men to combat, then the resulting millions of empty, necessary, “male” jobs must be done by women. That’s just how it works.
This is an British WW1 poster from 1917. It says it succinctly – every woman who takes a “male” job in the military, frees up that man for active combat.
One thing that you can’t get enough of in war is bullets! With men spending bullets but not making them, the women need to do it. These WW1 posters from around 1918 are pretty cool – the woman “doing her bit” has shades of Art Nouveau, I think.
Here’s an American WW1 poster in which the women are dressed as mechanics, train drivers, military support, manufacturers, farmers and nurses. I like the cool Victorian shoes and the baggy trousers. Isn’t it funny to think that this happened between the Victorians and the flappers?
In WW1, you couldn’t even afford to spare able-bodied men to drive ambulances in warzones. Ambulance drivers on the Front were largely women. They picked up the wounded and dying men and took them to field hospitals staffed largely by women.
By WW2, the women of the Allied nations were SO ON TOP OF THIS.
Here is a Canadian lady from the 1940s. Women in Air Force support were vital – men were the fighter pilots, women were transport pilots – as well as doing the support roles like aircraft maintenance and preparation, parachute packing, communications and intelligence, managing the radar, plotting the weather, and, of course, doing the catering. The language on this poster shows that the woman does all of this necessary work to get the fighter pilots in the air. Every non-combat military job that a woman took meant one more fighter pilot and soldier in active combat.
Back at home, people functioned fairly well without men in WW2. Everyone’s seen this American WW2 poster, you know she’s encouraging women to get into the factories and make All The Stuff!
HEY WE STILL NEED LOTS OF FOOD TO EAT AND THERE ARE NO MEN TO MAKE THE FOOD, SHOULD WE STARVE?
NO WE SHOULD NOT
THIS AUSTRALIAN LADY IS GOING TO FARM ALL THE THINGS
Land Armies (staffed by Land Girls) were super necessary to feed everyone at home PLUS everyone at war. Land Girls were used in both WW1 and WW2. While farming was a “protected occupation” (male farmers wouldn’t be forcibly drafted into the military, because their jobs were too important to a functioning society) the majority male farmworkers decided to enlist voluntarily. This left elderly or disabled male farmworkers to do intensive work. By WW2 they had some tractors to help, but most farming was still done by hand or with draft animals, especially since the steel and fuel for the tractors was more needed on the Front.
This American lady found a cool old-timey tractor, which is just as good as an ambulance…
But this British lady has to do her plowing with a draft horse! The weathered old farmer, too old for combat, is very grateful.
FOOD COMES FIRST!
okay but LOOK at some of these other Plushy Man Jobs, Necessary To Prevent the Downfall of Society, that American women needed to do RIGHT NOW TO BEAT THE NAZIS:
AMERICAN WOMEN! THESE ELEVATORS AREN’T GOING TO OPERATE THEMSELVES
I CAN KEEP GOING FOREVER
TAKE THE JOBS FROM MEN!! TAKE THEM!! SEIZE THEM!! DRILL THE THING
Oddly, even without men at work, “women’s work” still got done.
Children were still mostly looked after. Large communal childcare programs were set up (they were quickly closed after WW2, though.) Food was prepared. Households
ran. Single women stayed single. The countries functioned. The world still turned. MILLIONS OF MEN
were WIPED OFF THE PLANET but the world still turned.
In fact, the Allies won both WW1 and WW2.
And the resulting power/gender/employment vacuums shaped the gender dynamics of most of Tumblr’s parents and grandparents.
This is a scene where Anakin is completely emasculated. That’s what it exists for. That is the sole purpose it exists for. He is actually assigned to provide and coordinate Padme’s security, given authority by the Chancellor, the Senate, the Jedi, and Padme’s own personal security, Captain Typho. He has every right to say that he is in charge of security and that Padme should, at least, confer with him before making declarations to the Queen about their security plans.
Padme doesn’t see him as a Jedi. At all. It’s not even an issue of her deciding to undercut her security, or distrusting in his abilities. He’s that little boy from Tatooine to her and therefore it doesn’t even occur to her to afford him the respect she would to Obi-Wan, or again, to her own security, Captain Typho.
And here’s what I like about this: it isn’t motivation for Anakin. I think you can, very broadly, drawn a line from here to RotS in terms of his objections to the Council allowing Palpatine to appoint him but not granting him the status of Master. He does crave recognition, in addition to power in the Force and actual authority. But in terms of his relationship to Padme, this moment is wholly irrelevant from his POV. He never sets out to prove her wrong about him, to prove that she lacks security expertise, that she shouldn’t question his abilities. Sit back and think about that. Think of all the movies out there where a moment like this eventually generates a comeuppance, even if it’s merely as tame as the woman “admitting” she was wrong to underestimate the man (obviously this exists also in reverse; we almost always get the woman then saying her daddy taught her or she grew up with five brothers). Her treatment of him here is by no means motive for Mustafar. His declared, canon reason for attacking her is that he believes she brought Obi-Wan to kill him. He claims only that she doesn’t love him – not that she has never respected him, not that she has never believed in him or trusted him.
I think it terms of storytelling, this is an extremely unusual choice. I think it’s an unusually good one.
im tired of “psychic powers misdiagnosed as psychosis” stories instead i want actual psychotic characters with psychic powers being constantly irritated as fuck because they cant tell whether their visions are prophetic or hallucinations and if the chosen one thing is a delusion of grandeur or not
They have a portal that leads to a fantastical world in their closet, but they don’t know if it’s real or not. It could be, but it could also be their brain screwing with them by taking forgotten bits of that one time they read Narnia. They low key sometimes throw trash through it and it seems to disappear but also sometimes it comes back like wtf is this, make up your mind fake portal.
their best friend comes over and is like holy FUCK dude narnia’s in your closet and they’re like lmao i know and the best friend is like what?? and they’re like i told you about that hallucination right?? and the friend is like no narnia is literally in your closet and they’re like SHIT DUDE I’VE BEEN IGNORING IT FOR MONTHS BC I FIGURED I JUST NEEDED TO ADJUST MY ANTIPSYCHOTICS
They go to their doctor and say “yo I don’t think my meds are working, cuz a giant black wolf is following me around and crowd keeps appearing????” Their doc just looks at them. “So that’s not your dog then?” “Oh shit, it’s real !? So it HAS been stealing the food from the fridge!”
i’m so here for a psychotic chosen one who ignores all budding signs of magic because they’re just like “yeah, same shit As Always”
Believe it or not, I am still working on these nonsexual intimacy prompts!! I do really enjoy writing them, and I am excited about every one I got, I just have a lot going on these days and am moving slowly on them.
This is Carry On!Feuilly and Jehan, and it happens about a month or so after the end of that story. Also it has minor spoilers for what happens in that fic (just in case there’s someone following me who wanted to read it but didn’t yet? I feel like at this point that’s pretty unlikely).
Feuilly slid into the chair,
stifling a sigh. It had been one of those days that feel like
they’ve gone on for hours and hours, but when you look at the clock
it’s only 9 in the morning–and he’d only barely managed to get away
from work by 5:30. That was just enough time to ride 2 buses home,
change, and make it to the cafe where the ABC Society met, but not
enough time to eat dinner at home, so he’d ordered a panini at the
front counter of the coffee shop. He was regretting sitting down to
wait for it now, because that meant he’d have to stand up again when
his order was ready.
“Is everything okay?”
Jehan asked. Feuilly knew being blind could enhance the development
of your other senses, but was Jehan’s hearing really that good, to
pick out a tiny little sigh in a noisy, crowded coffee shop? Or had
Feuilly not been as good at hiding his exhaustion as he’d thought?
“I’m fine,” he said
quickly.
“You just sounded tired,”
Jehan said. "Long day?“
“Yeah,” Feuilly admitted.
“And busy. Not–not bad
busy, just busy.”
Jehan reached
over to the back of Feuilly’s chair, feeling his way from there to
Feuilly’s back. His fingers traced up Feuilly’s spine towards his
neck. "It must have been a stressful day,“ he said. "Your
shoulders are really tense. Is the new job okay?”
Another, more
troubling thought crossed Feuilly’s mind: Did Enjolras and Combeferre
tell him? Part of him knew that was unfair; they’d asked his
permission before talking to Courfeyrac, hadn’t they? Still, the ABC
Society people were a pretty tight-knit group, and maybe Courfeyrac,
as open about his feelings as he was, hadn’t realized that Feuilly
wouldn’t want everyone knowing about how he’d fallen apart in
Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment. The idea–as unlikely as it
was–that people in the group would be keeping an eye on him,
watching to see if he could handle the more challenging work of his
new job, turned Feuilly’s stomach.
“It’s
great, really great.” He found himself fiddling with the
wrapper from his straw. "My coworkers seem like good people,
and the paperwork isn’t too bad. I’m really happy to be learning
exactly what services are available here, and how to connect my
clients with them, and if there’s anything I can’t figure out, I have
lots of people I can ask about it, which is great. My caseload is
pretty small right now, and it’s going to get bigger, but it
shouldn’t be too bad,
so that’s good, and–“ He broke off, feeling the blood rush to
his cheeks. "Sorry–I’m babbling.”
Jehan’s mouth
twitched in a grin. "It’s fine. But–“ He hesitated, his
fingers still running idly up and down Feuilly’s back. "Maybe
I’m wrong, but you just sound like … like you’re trying to
convince yourself? It’s okay if the job isn’t that great–I’m not
going to report back to Courfeyrac or anything.”
For
a moment, Feuilly thought his fears were confirmed–then he realized
Jehan was referring to the fact that Courfeyrac had helped get
Feuilly the job. He laughed, a few beats too late. "No, the
job is fine. I mean, I might be trying to convince myself that I
can do it, but the job really is great.“
"Why
wouldn’t you be able to do it?”
It was a
question Feuilly ordinarily wouldn’t have answered. Maybe it was the
way Jehan asked it–not surprised, as if anybody should be able to
handle the challenge, but not terribly worried either. Maybe it was
the stress of a new job seemed like nothing after all the shit he’d
spilled out before Enjolras and Combeferre. Maybe it was the gentle
touch of Jehan’s hand on his back.
Feuilly
shrugged. "I don’t know, just … it might be too much work,
you know? I was there until 5:30 tonight, and I know I’ll definitely
have more work as I get more cases–and things will go faster once I
know the ropes, of course, but maybe not enough to equal out the
amount of work, and …“
"Sun-dried
tomato turkey on wheat,” someone called from the counter.
“That’s
mine,” Feuilly said, taking a deep breath as he gathered his
energy to get up and collect his food. He laughed half-heartedly.
“Sorry, maybe I’m just being a pessimist since I’m hungry.”
“I usually
find that things look a little more manageable on a full stomach,”
Jehan agreed. He squeezed Feuilly’s shoulder once more before
removing his hand to let him stand up. "But if it doesn’t work
out that way this time … I’ll still be here.“
The trip had been a spontaneous thing. Enjolras had been working on yet another paper, the third one that week for a class he would have passed last semester except he got distracted and didn’t turn in the final paper to his intense embarrassment. It wouldn’t happen again, at least that’s what he had told himself when he started the class, but here he was sitting in a stack of sources six inches thick when Feuilly entered the apartment in an uncharacteristic flurry of movement.
“Lets go.” He said, plopping a full duffel bag onto the adjacent chair.
“…huh?” Enjolras asked in an equally uncharacteristic display of confusion brought on by a headache that not even the large coffee he’d been nursing could fix.
“I have three days off and I can’t be here in the city right now. I’ll go by myself, but I’d like it if you come with me.” Feuilly gestured to the stacks of paper on the table. “It looks like you could do with a break too.”
Enjolras nodded, closed the laptop, shoved the papers in his bag in no particular order, drained the last of the coffee, and began packing.
It was already three when they set off.
It was nearly seven when they arrived, the ocean lapping up at the shore. They left their bags and shoes in the car, and ran down to the beach with a whoop of joy. Both were sure they had never seen the other smile so wide, so freely. When they had their fill, they sat just out of the reach of the waves. The sky and ocean merging into one at the horizon line, a bursting display of blues and yellows and pinks so beautiful they could have been a painting.
Contentment, that’s what this was, and in his moment they were so incredibly happy.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah~~~~~~~~~~~~!! 😀 YES. Just… YES. ^______^ I love this whole image and them and just YES. ^____^ I’m glad you enjoyed it, too! ^_^
(Also, for anyone curious, this was the song that Zelle posted that I was talking about.)
eirenical17 