Finding liberation in the 'softgoods' aisle

I've always done the grocery shopping in our family.

Back a number of years ago I even took a bit of pride in this evidence of my "liberation" from the typical male roles. I wasn't afraid to bump carts with a grocery store full of women; I didn't wonder if I was any less of a man standing in front of the deli counter trying to get served or scrutinizing the sale items for the best bargains.

In fact, I rather enjoyed contradicting people's stereotypes about what men did and didn't do.

Well, over the years I've been joined by legions of men pushing carts and dragging children down the aisles of the local supermarket. At first most of them were from my generation - the now "50-something" crowd - but younger generations of family men have joined us.

I have always taken this as a good sign - things were changing. More and more couples were experimenting with different ways of creatively dividing up the chores that go into managing a household. Maybe while he was doing the shopping, she was out mowing the lawn or fixing the plumbing. There was hope for the modern marriage after all!

There has, however, always been one aisle in our supermarket that has challenged my "male liberation." It is now called "softgoods;" it used to be called simply "feminine hygiene."

I have no rational explanation for why I, an adult male who has been married for a number of decades and fathered three children, would be slightly chagrined at just walking down this aisle, let alone taking items off the shelves and putting them in my cart (Sigmund Freud would probably have a field day with my discomfort; but, then, I'll bet he never did such shopping for his wife). I'm sure it has to do with all the silly things we are taught as boys about the human body, sexuality, etc.

But I'm hardly a kid anymore. I know as an adult that there is nothing any stranger about my picking up a package of - well, you know what - for my wife than her buying some underwear on sale for me. But no matter what I believed as an adult, the uncomfortable feelings have still been there.

That is, until a few weeks ago.

As usual, I had worked down the list and through the store until I got to the "softgoods" aisle. O.K., I smiled ruefully to myself, be a real man for a change. The aisle seemed empty, so I walked a little faster. Maybe I could get in and out without having to make eye contact with anyone.

Too late - a cart rounded the corner. Worse yet, it was being pushed by another man. He looked to be at least in his 80s, and seemed to be absorbed in his shopping list. I was sure he had to be lost or something.

Then he stopped - right in front of me. His eyes wandered to the shelf, trying to look over all the various brands and styles so he could get just what his wife had specified. Back to the list, then to the shelf. I knew the feeling. How could anything be so complicated. Eventually his gaze met mine.

We both grinned. He shook his head, peered again at his list, took a peek at mine, looked once more at the shelf, then glanced up and down the aisle. "My friend," he commented, "things have certainly changed. They certainly have. We men will never be the same."

I just shook my head; we both continued to smile. No other word needed to be said. We finished our shopping, went our separate ways.

We men, all of us, have had a long way to go. But maybe, just maybe, whether we're 20-something, 50-something or even 80-something, we're getting there.

• The Rev. Ken Potts is a pastoral counselor and marriage and family therapist with Samaritan Interfaith Counseling Centers, Naperville and Downers Grove.