The Power of Italian Gender Roles

While in Italy, I have noticed set gender roles that reoccur at every farm I've gone to. Though not necessarily forced, males and females have very distinct, very seperate roles in society: the men work out in the fields and the women stay in the house. Period. During siesta times, I sometimes head down to the town square to mail postcards or grab some coffee. I only see men. The women I encounter are the rare ones working at the cafes or magazine shops. Commercials are the best representation of this. Women get the choice between two schemas: they can be pregnant, in the kitchen, cooking, and doing laundry; or, they can be on the beach, clad only in a bikini selling something like cellphones (note: the cellphone is only shown in the last 5 seconds of the commercial. For the entire time leading up to that, I had no idea what they were trying to sell.) These are the options for Italian women? Prudent housewife or sex-machine?

Luckily, throughout my experience WWOOFing, I never really had to deal with these set gender roles. I was accepted as a strong, young, capable individual, who could manage pretty much any task on the farm: weeding, hauling, feeding animals, you name it. Because I am in Italy specifically for farming, a typical job for men, I was never put into these stereotypical situations of a female housewife, until yesterday evening.

Bruno and Milena went to the mountains for the night so that Simone, the oldest son who has been spending the past month out there on a donkey trek, could have the night off. He came home around 8:30 and, as per Milena's instructions, I was expected to have dinner on the table waiting for him. Well, if anyone really knows me, they should know two things: I like to cook but I hate gender stereotypes. So, I didn't mind cooking dinner for Simone. It was actually a nice break from the hard labor I was doing all day. However, I was very frustrated with the expectations of an "Italian Housewife." After dinner, I was expected to clean up the dishes and make coffee, even though I think drinking espresso at 10:00 at night is a little absurd. After every thing was back in its place, the plates were dried, the leftovers in the fridge, I naively expected some sort of thank you from Simone before we retired to our seperate rooms. Nothing.

I am used to the independence, but more so the respect American women have in their own homes and the workplaces. It takes time to adjust to this different way of life. While the jobs are seperate, I am still unsure whether they are equal. Bruno and Milena both put in their fair share of hard work and everything gets done. I just wonder if this is how Milena wants to live her life. Is she happy with the expectations put upon her by her sons and husband? I've never heard her complain, but is that because she is used to it or just doesn't know anything different, or maybe she actually enjoys it.