op ed: please stop mansplaining to me

The term to mansplain is described as a verb “(of a man) explain (something) to someone, typically a woman, in a manner regarded as condescending or patronizing.” Merriam-Webster has mansplain listed as one of the words they’re “watching”, indicating its current use is changing. Ultimately, the action behind it has been part of our landscape for years and continues to be something we encounter with enough regularity to justify creating a verb. Sad, but true.

I have been mansplained to more times than I can count. In my mid-to-late twenties I worked in automotive repair. For clarity, my job required technicians explain to me what was wrong with a car so I could estimate the repair and translate it to the customer: I literally had men explaining things to me daily, some with respect for my existing knowledge and others not so much. Customers mansplained their own car repair to me, others were angry I knew more about their car than they might. Some women found it difficult to understand I had knowledge of cars because they didn’t. It was a mixed bag of sexism, ageism, and education.

For the past ten years I’ve worked as a copywriter for businesses in wine and written tourism / lifestyle articles about wine, with a focus on British Columbia. I continue to have a lot to learn about the subject. My experience includes copywriting (bottle labels, websites, newsletters, technical sheets), winery business operations (tasting room, office administration & finance), production (harvest and cellar work), and consumer/tourism article writing for print and online. I have a broad understanding of new world wine businesses, specifically in this province. I know enough to ask informed questions and make fair observations based on my current knowledge.

Yesterday a peer mansplained something to me on a social media platform and in doing so appears to have missed the point of my message.

At first I asked myself if I saw this as mansplaining because of a project I’m working on, and perhaps my lens was a little more focused in that direction. I looked at the exchange of comments, their nature and flavour, and tried to get a read on who was engaging and how. Nope: this was mansplaining.

I commented that an international brand demonstrated a better understanding of my need to engage with them than some local businesses, and over a period of time. The larger message was about how an industry communicates and perhaps our local BC wine community had some growing to do.

Did I know, as a professional writer, that the company I queried is larger than many locally? Yes. Was I aware that the company likely has a larger team to respond more quickly and professionally, better than some locally? Of course. Am I comparing the experience directly? No.

I posted my comment to illustrate a point: the growing BC wine industry which I support wholeheartedly and often without financial compensation can do itself a disservice by not engaging with those who advocate for it. Yet somehow despite my years of working in and for this industry, a fellow had to mansplain about it to me.

To use a colloquialism: I just can’t even.

I know there are women in my network who have experienced and continue to experience mansplaining, sidelining, and other actions (or inactions). I’m here to support you. I have your back. We need to be there for each other. If you need to, please connect with me or someone else in your circle who will remind you of your value contribution.

For the record: I know Bollinger is a large organization and probably has “way more people doing admin so they can respond and tackle these types of things” than many of the BC wineries I query regularly. I stand behind my statement that “I’m still waiting to be added to some BC winery email lists despite making several requests, some for years”. At least four of these are BC wineries with larger operations. Some make 60,000 cases of wine per year and others produce hundreds of thousands.

BC wineries: please add me to your media email list, because I’m tired of asking and one day I might stop.