Over at Daddy Dialectic, there’s a post about fathers changing diapers (in this case, on a plane) and how surprised the author is whenever he runs into the notion that men don’t like changing diapers, not to mention actual men who don’t like changing diapers or who find the idea threatening to their masculinity.
I know that for me "doing a diaper" has joined the family of certain other elementary procedures, like changing a flat tire, sewing a button, or whipping up a white sauce, that are the mark of a generally competent adult. But beyond that, it’s just fun. How could it not be, when Spot gets that giggly smile on his face and then cantilevers his legs into frog position on the changing-table, all while the seat-belt sign is blinking and the turbulence gets nasty? "Come on old man," he’s saying to me, "let’s see you get that diaper on me this time!" I’m the one who freaks out, he just enjoys the show.
The diaper thing seems to run pretty deep, and I have a feeling that it lies at the root of our gendered conceptions of labor. Women handle small dependent things. Men control big impersonal things. Women are closer to the raw, men to the cooked. Or so it goes. Personally, I don’t quite get it when our babysitter tells us that "most men don’t like to change diapers," something that’s been repeated to me over and over again, mostly by women, who are in a position to know. Since most men, I assume, understand the importance of consistently wiping their own asses, I’m not sure what accounts for the hesitation to wipe someone else’s, especially that of one’s offspring.
I can’t say that I’ve achieved quite so high a level of diaper-changing euphoria, but I have been pleasantly surprised at how easy it’s been to conceptualize my skill at all sorts of tasks that are stereotypically feminine — diapering Jolie, singing to her, getting her to sleep, soothing her when she’s crying, etc. — as testaments to my masculine competence and confidence. "I feel like a warrior," as I said to my therapist the other day, and although it’s possible that I’ve said such a thing before, it would have been a long, long time ago, probably when I was starving myself for days in order to make weight for a wrestling match.
As far as I know the general notion of manly fatherness is still oriented around things like teaching your son how to be good at sports or, more enlighteningly, to be a responsible, virtuous, serious person , but for pure boot camp-style tests of manly endurance, I don’t think much beats trying to remain calm and gentle when your newborn is crying and your wife is burnt-out and you’ve got shit to do.
