Time needed: 8-15 minutes

Materials needed: A copy of the short story "Moving Day"

Goals for this exercise:

1) To provide participants a chance to explore their reactions to situations where gender is unclear.
2) To examine how assumptions about gender may interfere with one's ability to listen accurately.

3) To increase participants use of gender-free language when discussing issues

Directions:

The facilitator of the exercise instructs participants to sit back and relax and listen to the story. Be sure to read this story as written. "Moving Day" is fictitious and is written so that the names of characters may be either male or female and no pronouns are used to identify characters. While reading aloud, facilitators may find themselves inserting pronouns which do not appear in the story if they are not careful. Ideally, two facilitators (one male, one female) read the story (the text identifies where to change readers). After completing the story, ask participants to break into triads and share their reactions to three. You may want to make handouts of the questions and distribute them to the audience so that each triad can discuss questions at their own pace. After the triads have reacted to the questions ask everyone to reconvene and ask for comments from representatives for the small groups. Keep in mind, the learning from this exercise occurs during the processing, not from listening to the story.

Processing:

In your triads, take nine minutes to respond to the following questions. Keep in mind there are no right or wrong answers to any of these questions:

1) What assumptions did you make about genders of the characters? Why?

2) How important was it for you to identify their genders?

3) If you decided the narrator's relationships were not all with the same gender, how did that decision make you feel?

4) (Optional) If both male and female narrators read the story, what was the impact of the order of the readers?

5) Did the gender of the reader effect your thoughts about gender of the characters?

Pick a representative of your group to share some of your triad's comments with the other triads.

Moving Day

The sticky heat of a Louisiana August pervades the apartment. My last boxes, labeled for the movers, are ready to seal. I finish the task quickly. Time for one last search of the apartment for strays. Five years, and now, no evidence of my life. I roam, opening and closing drawers and cupboards. In the bedroom, I slide the cabinet doors of my headboard. My journal! I was so certain I'd emptied all the contents from the headboard, but obviously not. Glancing inside to ensure nothing else hides there, I retrieve my journal. To my surprise, I realize haven't made an entry for years. I decide to read it during long waits I face traveling to Denver.

Hours later, my belongings driven away by movers, followed by a grueling cab ride to the airport, I sit in the boarding area, waiting. As too often is the case, the gate agent announces a "slight delay." I remember my journal and pull it from a pocket of my carry-on bag. I recall being given this blank book with brown leatherette binding by Micki - my first crush of the seventh grade. Mickey made me feel nervous and excited when we were together. I loved those feelings. Unable to keep pace with uneven growth spurts, the awkwardness of my body was even more pronounced around Micki. This elicited affectionate comments like "You klutz!" - certainly safer than saying, "I like you."

Mickey's family moved during the winter break - we said our goodbyes, lying to each other that we would write. My depression over Micki's absence was soon soothed by a new friendship. I wrote pages describing how wonderful I felt when Cory was around. Cory looked at me when we talked and made me feel that whatever I said was incredibly interesting. I always felt smart when I talked to Cory - I'd never felt that way with anyone else. We spent hours pretending to do homework, playing tennis, and listening to music. Over the summer, between eighth and ninth grades, we began to lose interest in each other and our friendship faded away.

My journal records passions for two people in high school: Lee and, especially, Chris. With Chris, I learned to blend sexual longings with the intense closeness of my earlier friendships. We somehow had both managed to escape being taught to feel guilty or dirty about sexual feelings and took delight in our experimentations. My journal entries, minimal during this period, suddenly erupted in anger. I described when Chris shared a letter of acceptance to a private college far away. "My parents both went there and I want to go too!" I was astonished. "Chris, we agreed to go to State together - we're even signed up for the same dorm." Chris acknowledged the promise, but reaffirmed intentions to attend the family alma mater. My betrayal felt complete. I hadn't even known of this other application. My fantasies of being together throughout college evaporated, and as they went, so did my feelings for Chris. Reading now, it seems shallow, but I make allowances for being 17. Looking back, I wondered how I managed to get it together to finish high school with decent grades. My parents, both chemists, were pleased with my decision to major in chemistry at State.

[Optional: Change gender of the reader here]

College brought Terry. Assigned to the same co-ed residence hall, we met over dinner the first day and soon were fast friends. Our interests in music, films, skiing, and tennis were similar. We even had the same major, chemistry. By December, Terry and I were passionately in love. Sophomore year, we moved off-campus into a large house with four others. Terry and I finally were able to share ourselves and our music collections completely. I was outmatched in class, however. Terry took honors in all our courses and was heavily recruited by top graduate schools. With good grades but less-than-sparkling GRE scores, I was recruited instead by Shell, Dow, and DuPont. Terry accepted an research assistantship at a prestigious program in the East. I headed to Baton Rouge for an entry position with Shell. Difficult choices, but I knew I couldn't stand in Terry's way professionally, any more than Terry could stand in mine. From my shaky handwriting, I doubt I believed that then any more than I do now.

At Shell, I met Bobbie. Still reeling from my break-up, our relationship started as strictly rebound. Over time, I thought I had truly fallen in love. My journal entries ended here.

The gate agent calls for boarding. Finally! Once established in my seat, I reflect over the past few years. Despite the depth of our feelings and what I thought was a commitment to each other, Bobby accepted a promotion with transfer to Ohio. There was nothing there for a research chemist, so I stayed in Louisiana. I felt abandoned again. Why didn't anyone ever want to stay with me?

Shell just provoked too many memories of Bobbie, so I began to job hunt. I was offered a position by the EPA to work cleaning up Rocky Flats, a toxic waste dump near Denver. In the midst of packing, Terry called. We hadn't lost touch, although we had not seen each other for three years. Terry asked me to guess who was the new Ph.D. chemist also hired to work on the clean-up. As the flight attendants ready for take-off, I wonder what the future holds for the two of us in Denver. I close my eyes and lean back as the plane speeds down the runway.

David C. Barnett

The author grants permission for unlimited reproduction and use of this material by educational or nonprofit groups with the provision that credit for authorship be included with each copy. © 1998.