Going against the grain and linguistic sexism

Words reflect and create expectations beyond their immediate meaning. In the case of certain professions, they bring into mind a picture of a man or woman often based on historical patterns. This prejudice requires the minority gender to define itself against the established term.

One way is to add the gender definer to the profession.  In reality, there are many male nurses, male prostitutes and male secretaries. They are obliged to add the descriptive word to provide an accurate image of themselves.  Otherwise, without a picture, the reader would assume a woman. Likewise, the terms driver, pilot and judge have their feminine version, i.e. woman driver, female pilot and, in French, Madame le juge. Despite the number of women in these professions, the image remains male.

In some cases, languages change the term to break the stereotype. Policemen and police women are collectively referred to as law enforcement officers, a completely gender-neutral term. Firewomen are included in the term firefighters. All meetings have a chairperson to reflect the number of women in management.  Finally, to deal with a very complicated situation, the terms father and mother in school registration forms are slowly being replaced by Parent 1 and Parent 2 to allow for single sex couples with children.

Some languages, especially Arabic and Hebrew, cannot always gracefully solve the issue. At the elementary school level in Israel, the fast majority of the teachers, 95 per cent, are female. Yet, if there is one male teacher at a staff meeting, should they be addressed as morot, the feminine plural form, or morim, the masculine plural form? The rules of grammar suggest the latter while common sense would imply the former.  The only elegant but wordy solution is to say morim and morot, yes with the masculine form first as placing the feminine form first sounds a little odd in Hebrew.

So, those pioneers that desire to break the gender barriers to certain profession not only have to cope with prejudice and lack of confidence but also with linguistic stigmas.  They must verbally define themselves in opposition to societal expectation.

Military ribbons

I have lived in Israel since 1989, some 28 years, not including one year as a volunteer. I was 28 years old when I made alia, immigration, and have since spent half my in Israel. In many ways, I have become local, as colonials would say. I speak Hebrew, don’t stand on protocol and understand almost all of the jokes. That said, I recognize that I will never be 100% Israeli, mainly because of a lack of military service.

 I simply never went through baku, the enlistment center, and basic training. I arrived too old be an effective soldier. Thus, I was given a health exemption. I can’t say that I fought the decision as I was a newlywed. Neither I nor my first wife was enthusiastic about me away for long period of times or optimistic about my ability to even make a bed the army way. The IDF did not really need me either. So, I missed the Israeli male-defining experience of proving myself as a soldier, doing mandatory service and reserve duty. I also did not go through that male-bonding experience that leads to so many friendships in Israel.

The other military experience I missed is that of a parent of a soldier. I have a daughter who did not serve in the IDF, having received an exemption. As a result, I never escorted by child that same baku, see her come home on weekends exhausted with a pile of dirty clothes, drive her to base and appear in uniform with a rifle whenever she had leave during her duty. For that matter, I never had to wonder where exactly she was, what she was doing and if she was safe. There are many Israeli parents that would envy me on that matter.

On the other hand, I have done my civilian “duty.” I have sat through endless special broadcasts on TV, discussing the latest military campaign. I have celebrated my birthday by going into a “protected” room as a gift from Sadam Hussein (Gulf War). It was no gas, as they say. I have seen “the rockets’ red glare” during the Second Lebanese War and chosen to stay in my house despite the frequent sirens. In fact, I no longer count how many military actions I have been viewed as a civilian. However, to my credit or stupidity, depending on your point of view, I have never run to safer pastures, instead standing my ground in Israel. I “understand” what it means to be an Israeli civilian during war.

To clarify any confusion, I am neither proud nor regretful of my lack of military service. Given the circumstances, that was the reality. On the bright side, I and my immediate family have never had a bullet shot at them or even in our direction and have never been in danger of being killed or wounded in military action. Likewise, I would have liked my daughter to do military service but fully understand why that was not practical at the time. In the opposite sense, my life would be perfectly fine without knowing how to put on a gas mask or the size of a hole created by rocket on a road. For better or worse, I accept what I have been given.

Yet, no matter how long I live here, I will always have a bit of galute, Diaspora, in me, not only because of my accent, manners or way of thinking but also because I never experienced what it means to be an Israeli soldier.