As a younger sister of four brothers, I experienced a lot of testosterone-induced treatment at the hand of my brothers. You need to know our birth order and approximate ages during this particular story:
One frequent ritual involved my teenage brother, Tim, who was all about professional wrestling. As soon as my parents walked out the door, Tim would sing out (at the top of his lungs), "ALL! STAR! WRESTLING!" (And if you ever saw this show when you were a kid, you know the tone of this declaration; full of drama and enthusiasm.) This battle cry was a cue to Dennis, Judy, and myself that we were soon to be "contestants" in a completely unfair wrestling match. (Reminds you of my Kyle's video, doesn't it?) We would all reluctantly report to the living room, where Tim delighted in putting us through
Now, of course, Tim would not have enthusiastically orchestrated this torture if he hadn't been certain he could take us. And take us, he did. One by one, we would step forward and get sucked into the vortex that was Tim's physical dominance in the form of head-locks, body slams, and shoulder-pinning. One by one, we would tag-team Tim in futile bids to save our dignities.
Now, on most days, we knew it was easier to just succumb to the "ALL! STAR! WRESTLING!" call, but on one particular night, Judy and I just decided that we weren't going to play. We refused. Feeling empowered, we declared that we weren't going to cooperate.
I don't remember most of the details, but I do remember that we soon found ourselves in the basement; tied to floor joists with our hands behind our backs, in the dark. (So much for "Girl Power.")
I don't know who did the tying, but I think that Dennis was forced to do Tim's bidding; coming downstairs every so often to ask if we were ready to comply. We were not. Each time, Dennis would go back upstairs to report, flipping the light off as he left. Who knows how many days we were down there (just kidding; it was probably only 15 minutes), but it was too long. I remember trying desperately (and angrily) to get my hands untied, but I just could not do it. Judy was no more successful. Finally, we caved.
I remember vividly that it took Dennis a long time to come back after we told him we had given in; so long, that by the time he returned, I did have myself untied. It was no use; we were still forced into the "arena," and I don't remember rebelling again after that.
This was just one chink in the armor that was my sense of power as a young girl. Obviously, I recovered, eventually; just as sisters across the globe have done for generations. I'm betting most sisters and brothers have similar tales of torture. What's yours? I'd love to hear it--Feel free to post your story put the link in your comment.
Disclaimer: The recollections in this post are my own, from my perspective. My siblings may remember this story differently. (With any luck, they'll share :)