by Cynthia Potts
Now, I know my way
around a construction site. I can identify most of the contents of a
toolbox at a glance. I even write the Building and Remodeling Section
of the local newspaper. And I manage all of these things while engaging
in the earth-shattering activity of being female.
While this isn't unusual for me, or frankly,
for most of my peers and neighbors, it's apparently news to Norma Vally.
The Discovery Channel's "ToolBeat" diva has just released
a new book entitled Chix Can Fix, seemingly for the sole purpose
of assuring readers that you can have estrogen and still be competent.
When it comes to delivering the "How
To" portion of her book, Vally does an excellent job. From the
mysteries of the gurgling toilet bowl to installing a dimmer switch,
repairing wallpaper to installing window guards, the reader is presented
with commonsense practical solutions, complete with helpful illustrations,
lists of tools needed, and even instructions on how to use those tools.
Her approach is straightforward, practical, and realistic.
It's when you hit the philosophy portion
of the book that Vally's approach becomes infuriating. Take the introduction
to the wall and floors chapter:
"When I'm learning something for
the first time, I always try to relate it to something I'm already familiar
with - like cooking, shoe shopping, and searching for that magic wrinkle
cream. Thinking in terms I already understand makes it easier to master
the new task. I know I'm not the only one who thinks this way. When
I teach other women about home improvement, I find that they're more
comfortable if I explain projects in ways that they can relate to."
Couple that with gems like: "Don't
run crying, 'You were right! I can't do it myself!' to your father/boyfriend/husband.
(That said, don't tell your father/boyfriend/ husband he's the last
person in the world you'd ever call on for help - just in case you end
up needing a little backup)."
And this, from the concluding "What
is Chix Can Fix Really All About?" chapter:
"But let's face it, in the world
we live in today, 'All you need is love' doesn't pay the rent, secure
a job, or fix the plumbing."
"Although written with love, this
book has given you another powerful L word - leverage - not only to
change a light switch and repair your plumbing, but to realize that
you can take control of your reality and be self-reliant and powerful...
Suddenly you're no longer the victim, the helpless girl - now that's
leverage." Issues much?
Setting aside the constant, overwhelming,
nonsensical heterosexist nature of the book - which includes, and I
kid you not, a section on installing a dimmer switch on the dining room
chandelier whilst cooking a romantic dinner for The Boyfriend - this
patronizing attitude toward women, couched in carefully PC language,
seems at odds with her marketing literature.
In the literature, we read that
single females account for 18% of all homebuyers in 2004. More than
half of the women who live alone own their own homes, and by 2010, there
will be 31 million women headed households. Yet nowhere in the text
are these single women addressed, beyond the fact that some men find
women who know how to use power tools sexy. Lesbians might as well be
invisible - or perhaps it's just assumed that they already possess all
the home repair info they need.
It's
a shame, really. A good chunk of this book is insightful, useful knowledge
that will really help the average homeowner (whatever gender they might
be!) fix common problems around the house. Projects are realistically
presented, well thought out, and make no assumptions about the skill
set of the person attempting the fix. Especially commendable is the
chapter on electricity, which puts the sometimes intimidating world
of home wiring in easily understandable terms with appropriate cautions
clearly spelled out.
If you can overlook the attitude
- or buy the book as a gift for someone who won't even notice it - then
Chix Can Fix is well worth the modest $14.95 sticker price.
On the other hand, you might want to wait for an author who realizes
that sometimes Chix have girlfriends, not boyfriends, and that they
tackle projects together.
Cynthia Potts lives in Plattsburgh, New York where she writes the
Building and Remodeling Section of the Press Republican.