A confession: In nearly four decades of enjoying turkeys and the savory delights of countless Thanksgivings, the sum total of my culinary contribution to the festivities probably amounts to a few dozen bread rolls, one botched batch of mashed potatoes and warming up some premade pies. And like millions of American men, I have tried to hide my feeble contribution behind some uninspired dish washing — OK, drying — and the rationalization that we are merely leaving the work where it rightfully belongs: with the professionals. And, of course, by professionals, we mean women.
Men may have made some strides in recent decades in closing the gap between the sexes in many domestic responsibilities, including cooking meals at home. But once Thanksgiving and the holiday season rolls around, all of a sudden it’s 1955 again, and it’s time for the ladies to don the aprons and the guys to hit the couch. Just imagine how it all must look from the vantage point of a visiting alien anthropologist, or just a Scandinavian: a festival day centered around female-dominated labor activities and male-dominated leisure activities, in which one sex of the species slaves while the other slumbers. It’s no wonder women experience so much more holiday stress.
