By: Urma Redmond
It’s common for households to recognize the women of the family to be the best chefs. Widely celebrated holidays like Thanksgiving are the prime time to appreciate all of the delicious food made by the magic, feminine fingers. We all look forward to our mother’s turkey, our aunt’s mac-n-cheese, and, in my personal opinion, my grandma’s greens.
We always give credit to the women for doing all of the cooking, assuming that it’s their role. Why is it that we hardly hear of men throwing down in the kitchen as well? In my own family, men are actually banned from the kitchen until it’s time for the Thanksgiving meal. Black women can be so insistent on not wanting gender roles in a variety of lifestyle situations, but will refuse for black men to have any part in preparing a feast.Well, that idea was challenged in my family a few Thanksgivings ago.
Thanksgiving is usually celebrated at my house in my hometown, Dallas, Texas. My mom loves playing hostess, and she takes great pride in making her home the hot spot for Thanksgiving. This includes being known as the spot where any family or friend can come and get a plate of delicious, homemade food.
I woke up that morning and bounced downstairs with one of my favorite cousins. In the living room, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was playing on TV. All of the men in the house had left for the Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving Day game, with the exception of one cousin. My mother, her older sister, and my older cousin were all in the kitchen bright and early getting ready to prepare the best meal of November. Soothed at knowing the food was in great hands, I settled down in the living room with my cousin and older aunt.
Thirty minutes passed by, and I hear my mom go, “Why isn’t this preheating?” My older cousin says, “I started it like 20 minutes ago.” My aunt then replied, “It’s not showing the degrees on the clock.” My mom goes, “It’s not even showing the time.”
In the most panicked voice you can think of, my cousin exclaims, “The oven is off!”
At that stressful statement, my cousin and I rise from the couch and cautiously step into the kitchen. Without the oven, we couldn’t eat the baked macaroni and cheese: we had every right to be concerned. My older aunt, Ella, was behind us, reaching for a wine glass. It was only ten-thirty in the morning, but since my aunt doesn’t cook, she makes up for it by bringing really nice drinks to every family function. Ella usually doesn’t intervene with any kitchen duties, but once she recognizes a potential conflict she likes to be in front-and-center for it all.
My mom was trying her hardest to play it cool. She was the woman of the household, after all. After spending a few minutes inspecting the oven head-to-toe, we all came to the conclusion that the oven was off, and there was no possible solution into getting it turned back on.
Another cousin of mine, Jacqueline, took this as her chance to prove herself useful. Jacqueline is an in-law and is always bending her back to show she can contribute to the family. She usually brings pasta salad to the Thanksgiving dinner every year, and is very proud of herself for that. The family usually comments on how nice it looks and leaves it at that because who’s really trying to eat pasta salad during their Thanksgiving meal?
Before Jacqueline could go into her spill about pasta salad, my older cousin Carl had awoken and came downstairs. At the time, Carl was studying culinary arts and he thought of himself as a professional chef and thought he knew everything there was to know about food and cooking. Once Carl was aware of the situation, he decided he was the one fit to take charge.
“We can grill the turkey outside! The greens can go in the crock-pot! The mac and cheese can get done on the stove!” Carl was barking out orders, taking the position of the leader…just like a man would.
My mom was not okay with Carl’s self-assigned role for several reasons. One; it was her kitchen; she wanted to be in charge by default. Two; this was her nephew, at least twenty years younger than her, coming at her on how to prepare the food that she’s been making for years. And three…this was a man who was seemingly out a place.
Carl and my mom are arguing with each other, debating on which ways would be best to cook foods and which ones should be done first. My aunt is torn between taking her sister’s side and taking her son’s side. My older cousin is taking my mom’s side, looking for a reason to prove her brother wrong. Ella is in the back, asking everyone if they’d like a glass of wine from the bottles that she brought. Jacqueline is insisting that she doesn’t mind making more pasta salad to make up for the lost food. My grandma has now come downstairs and she is fussing at my mom and cousin for fussing at Carl. The rest of us were standing there, hungry and worried.
Just as quickly as it went out, the oven clock beeped and the time popped up on the screen. The oven was on, and we were back in business. Thanksgiving was saved! We all stood around the kitchen, laughing with relief, before my mom patted Carl on his arm and said, “So you go to a fancy cookin’ school and think you can out-do ya aunty?” Carl shrugged helplessly and replied, “Hey, I was just trying to help.”
There’s a pride that black women feel after making a satisfying meal for their families. I see it all the time in my mom when she’s wrapping up the leftovers, offering more food to others as they say their goodbyes. I see it in my grandma while she watches everyone get in line for seconds, still nibbling at her own first plate. Preparing meals as elaborate as the Thanksgiving meal is a way to show true love and compassion for the family: to spend all day “slaving over a hot stove”, just to see everyone come with high expectations and leave with a full stomach is a heart-warming feeling for black women everywhere.
Is this why black women feel so threatened when a black male tries to claim a place in the kitchen? Black men are our kings, our providers, and they are automatically handed over leadership positions in other situations. Is it bad to let the women rule over this one thing, or are we not being fair to our black brothers?
In this time period, we should be comfortable with switching up the expected gender roles. Yes, women can be top executive directors or CEOs and be the main provider for the family. Yes, men should be able to whip something up in the kitchen without being totally clueless in doing so. With that being said, should we necessarily strip away the roles that the black community looks forward to every year? While we should definitely stick to what fulfills our love for the black culture, black women and black men should also be more open-minded in who should do what for each other.
Wishing you a full stomach and a full heart, Happy Thanksgiving.
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