Talking Turkey About The Chicken Story

By Susan Esther Barnes

There's a post up at The Bloggess that's getting a lot of comments. It's called And That's Why You Should Pick Your Battles.

I ought to mention I haven't read any of the other posts on this blog, so I don't know whether this particular post depicts typical interactions between the blogger and her husband. This may just be an anomoly, although I doubt it.

Glancing through the first few of the over 1,000 comments posted so far, it sounds like everyone thinks this post is hilarious. I think it's kind of sad.

It starts out with the blogger arguing with her husband about towels. Later, when she's leaving the house to go shopping, he orders her not to buy any more towels. In retailiation, she ends up buying the enormous metal rooster (she refers to it repeatedly as a chicken in her blog post) pictured above. She seems to be proud of herself for getting back at her husband in this way.

What I find the most disturbing about this blog post is the lack of communication and empathy between the husband and the blogger.

He doesn't seem to understand the difference between bath towels and beach towels, and there is no indication that she made a real attempt to explain to him why she would want to buy the former after she had already purchased the latter.

The husband is obviously concerned about the amount of money being spent. Ordering the blogger not to buy any more towels is not a great way to communicate this concern.

My husband and I have a rule called, "No pronouncements." Neither of us is allowed to tell the other one what he or she (or we as a family unit) will do. We can each do our own thing, but if one of us wants the other one to do (or not do) something, we discuss it. Sometimes it's a short discussion and sometimes it's a long one, but neither one of us thinks we can tell the other one what to do (or not do).

Even though the husband erred in trying to tell his wife not to buy towels, she then errs further by buying something completely useless. I admit, the rooster is funny, and I can see buying it for fun, if it's something you can afford. But to buy something just to irritate someone else, particularly your significant other, is an unwise and hostile act.

I see so many missed opportunities in this story.

The blogger could have explained to her husband why it's important to have both bath towels and beach towels.

The husband could have taken the time to talk about why he's concerned about the cost of the towels, and to discuess their finances. Are they able to meet all their bills? Are they saving enough for the future? This could be a jumping-off point for them to sit down and agree on financial goals. If they agree on a household budget, there might be fewer arguments like this.

The wife could have told her husband how she feels when he orders her not to buy something. This could have been an opportunity for her to talk about how disempowering it is for him to do that, rather than jumping at the first possible opportunity to agressively reassert her power by purchasing something neither one of them can really use.

So yeah, I can see how some people would think this story is funny, but I think it's pretty sad.

My Time as a Chicken

By Susan Esther Barnes

Yesterday was Purim, a Jewish holiday which calls for us to give gifts to friends and the poor, to eat a festive meal, and to listen to the public reading of the Book of Esther, in which Queen Esther risks her life to save all the Jews in Persia.

It has also become a celebration in which we dress up in costume and celebrate our deliverance from the evil Haman by acting as silly as possible. This explains how I found myself standing in front of the synagogue in a chicken outfit, carrying a sign that read, “Studies show matzo balls taste better in beef broth.”

Before long, I became fascinated by the reactions people had to my presence. Some responded to the existence of a person holding a sign by refusing to look at it, as if I were staging some kind of strike or protest and they didn’t want to get involved.

Some people immediately figured out who I was, and said, “Is that Susan?” to which I nodded, “Yes,” while clucking agreeably. Others seemed to have no clue, even though they have seen me stand in the same place every Friday night, and even though I pointed to the “Purim Greeter” badge I wore in place of my usual “Shabbat Greeter” badge. Thus, people who normally would greet me with a hearty smile and/or hug kept a respectful distance from me.

Children, in general, were intrigued. Several of them wanted to pet me, which I encouraged by holding out my arm (wing) and clucking soothingly. One poor little girl was scared and cried, until I took off the chicken head to show her there was a real person inside the costume. One trio of girls insisted I tell them who I was, although I’m sure my name meant nothing to them, since I don’t have kids of my own and I’m sure they assumed I must have been the mother of one of their friends. Many people with cameras took my picture.

The message on the sign I carried was a bit subtle. It requires one to put together knowledge that matzo balls are commonly cooked in chicken broth with the concept that it’s a chicken pushing the beef broth idea, presumably in order to save itself and its kin from the cooking pot. Some people got it right away. Some got it after a few seconds, but a small minority didn’t seem to put it all together. I enjoyed hearing parents reading the sign to their kids and making sure the kids got the humor. A vegetarian woman suggested matzo balls actually taste better in vegetable broth, with which my chicken persona readily agreed.

I had one mildly embarrassing moment today when I found out that one woman who I had leaned over to watch a cell phone video had no idea who I was. I had just assumed she knew, because she had seen pictures of me in the same costume from last Halloween and she did say, “Hello,” when I walked up. She seemed much more reserved with me than usual, and now I know why. How odd and unsettling to have an anonymous chicken leaning over you like that!

It was particularly interesting that almost nobody spoke with me, including those who knew who I was. This is, I suspect, largely due to my insistence of clucking rather than speaking, except for a few times when I felt compelled to use English. I wonder, though, how much of it was due to people not being able to see my facial expressions, not being sure whether or not I was someone they knew, or the general lack of social norms regarding how someone should act around a person in a chicken suit.

At any rate, it was liberating to be able to just wander around on my own, observing others’ reactions to my costume. It makes me want to consider an equally concealing outfit for next year.