Conversations with my Russian Teacher: #1

Outwardly Russian women and Western European women are much the same. Perhaps the former are a little more glitzy in their fashion choices, and less conflicted about the issue of wearing fur, but other than that the format of their lives is not so different. Generally they are faced with juggling work, family, love, ambition, etc in much the same way as you might expect of women elsewhere.

Under the surface, however, expectations and Russian society norms are - for many women - slightly further back along the scale of feminist evolution than you might expect...

It's Monday morning a couple of weeks ago. Ludmilla, my Russian teacher, is explaining to me that in Russian nouns have different genders (dammit). Luckily - at least at the level at which I'm learning - there are various rules to help you work out which words are masculine, feminine and neuter. (Oh, you didn't think it was going to be as easy as just the two genders, did you Potty Mummy? Poor deluded soul...)

So, the gender of most words can be worked out fairy easily; it simply depends on how the word ends. There are some, however, that are irregular; they defy all the rules, and are feminine, masculine or neuter simply because they are...

Ludmilla was trying to give me some handy hints to use when trying to remember which gender these irregular nouns should be when not being massacred by an ignorant Brit (bear with me please; this does get more interesting...)

Ludmilla: "So, bed and door are feminine. Even though their endings look like they could be masculine."

Me: "OK...."

Ludmilla: "The way I illustrate it is like this. The woman makes the bed - so it's feminine..."

Me: "Right." (I let this pass - much as I would like to disagree, in our house it is me who makes the bed 90% of the time).

Ludmilla: "And, the woman opens the door to her husband when he gets home from work, so that's feminine too."

I look at her blankly.

Ludmilla: "You don't open the door to your husband?"

Me: "Well, in England, traditionally men are supposed to hold open doors for women, so..."

Ludmilla: "Yes, yes I know. But at the end of the day when he comes home. You don't open the door up for him?"

Me: "Are you crazy? He can open it himself!"

Ludmilla looks at me. I look at her. And based on that, and on a previous conversation we had about stay at home mothers working, she now think that I am a militant feminist. Whenever we discuss doors and beds in our Russian lessons, she raises her hand and makes a fist in a sort of Wolfie Smith 'power to the people'-type salute...

Note: I do think of myself of a feminist. But surely expecting my husband to open the front door himself at the end of the day can't be classified as militant?