I'm painting, and disturbingly expert at it. You know how something will jog your memory? Well I'm remembering painting the entire living room of my parents' house at age 14. Including the ceiling. And the wall was one of those textured ones. My younger brother got out of it by being incompetent (his usual strategy) but I did it. My father was probably out of town as he usually was, but I don't remember my mother doing much.

And was my labor valued? No, because I was a girl. I was scrubbing toilets and vacuuming and trimming hedges. And I don't remember my mother ever saying "Wow, what a good job you did - let's take you out for ice cream!" It was just taken for granted. And I never even got allowance because I was earning my own money doing paper routes starting when I was 11.

Also my mother always portrayed herself as very egalitarian, but her behaviour indicates otherwise. When I was 18 she was demanding I pay rent for my bedroom, whereas later my brother lived in the basement with an entire suite to himself (it was crappy but it had a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom) and paid no rent for 4 years through his early 20s. He was able to save for a down payment for a mortgage.

So I had to move out because for the amount my mother was demanding I could rent my own apartment. So I had to pay because I was a girl.

And it's still the case although my brother and I are in our early 50s. My mother thinks the sun sets on him because he has a lot of money and drives her to the occasional medical appointment (he lives 20 minutes away from her while I live in another city). Whereas does she value the 1000s of hours I have spent listening to her on the phone when my brother will barely carry on a conversation with her?

I'll let you guess.