She wears the pants - Da Liao, 2003

She wears the pants

During my years in Taiwan I never saw any overt signs of a women's movement like we had in the states during the last half of the 20th century. I wondered why. Back home we developed an image of Asian women as a severely oppressed group, subservient to their male counterparts, restricted and reviled. When we get here, we see nothing of the sort.

There were a number of events that helped me understand the nature of the man woman relationship in Taiwan.

I was negotiating a property management deal for a house in Taimali. The owner, Mr Huang, lived in Chao Dzo. He picked me up at the station. We went to his house. We sat at a small simple table and chairs meticulously arranged on the sidewalk in front of his house. He also had his friend Mr. Linn, a property broker, join us.

They went to great lengths to arrange the seating just right. The small square folding table was against a wall. I faced the wall. Mr Huang was to my left. Mr Lin was to my right. There was one extra chair next to Mr Huang, but not really at the table. We drank green tea. I proceeded to outline my proposal. He said, “ Oh, no wait. My wife will be down in a minute.“

So, we talked the usual foreigner talk; food, weather, climate and the always unnerving,” What do you think of Taiwan women?” When Mrs Huang arrived, I stood up, moving my chair over to make room for her at the table. I picked up her chair to move it closer to the table.
“ Oh, no, that's quite alright,” quickly moving the chair back to its original location.
She took the seat next to, slightly behind her husband. I noticed that she was just within his peripheral vision. A lot of shifting and adjusting ensued, a centimeter this way and that way. I was so caught up in the drama, I lost my attention to the topic. Mr. Linn sat patiently, quietly through all of this as if he were familiar with it.

“So, umm. Let's go over this rental agreement.” And, I noticed that every time I asked a question of Mr Huang, Mrs. Huang would lean forward just a tad, barely discernible, just enough to bring herself into his peripheral vision. He would hesitate. Then, she would nod or shake her head, ghostlike, ever so slightly. He would speak and she would resume her default position.

I was reminded of a wealthy woman in the back seat of a chauffeur driven car. By the end of the discussion I was so fed up with the charade, I turned to the wife and looked her square in the face and said,” Your property is going to waste by erosion and vandals. You are not gonna get a better chance than this. You have my number. Call me when you decide. Have a good day.”

On the drive back, I began to see this interaction as a metaphor for how so many households are managed. She drives, discretely from the back seat allowing him all the outward appearances of power and prestige.

Later I related this incident to my cultural consultant. “In traditional Chinese household, generally, man has his domain and woman has hers. Duty. Generally.” and he said no more as if leaving me an open door.
I took the bait,” So what is his domain, what is her domain?”
“Generally,“ he continued,” man is responsible for everything outside the house. Woman's duty is everything inside the house; the shopping, cooking, kids, family relations.”
“So what does that leave for the man?”
“The job and income, the farm, the social life. There is a balance of power. “ I thought about how many of my Taiwanese friends brought home their pay and handed it directly to their wives and when they needed money they would ask, “ Lao-paw, gay wo -i- dien chien, how bu how?” -Wife, give me some pocket money, please.-
“Maybe that's why so many men bring home the money and give it to the missus.
“ Why do you think?” he asked.
“ It gives them leverage,” and , “perhaps, he is bad at math,” I added with a grin.
“ Leverage,” Paul contemplated that. Then, after a moment, with a mischievous grin he made a gesture like a cup, “Women retain,” and the a gesture like a shaft,” Men, spend.”
“ Lai, lai,” as we lifted our cups to drink.

I considered one of my paragliding business relations, Da Xi, who handles all of the money coming into his business. But when it comes to pay outs,” See my wife.” This made it easier for him to manage the social aspect of his business relations. His wife is cast socially as the fierce guard, a pit bull, a junk yard dog.
Paul continued, “ In America what is the divorce rate?”
“Over 50%.”
“If you maintained a balance of power you would not have this problem.” he instructed.
“Well, in a post-industrial society things are a little more complex. In a 2 income family, the man really has no domain anymore. This traditional formula is obsolete.”
“He just laughed.” You see, his wife lived in another city, 5 hours away where she ran her own business. She visited once or twice a year and left the child rearing and household to him.