Mini-Juzo stories
I was a kid during the seventies, and in primary/elementary schools there was also the "manual works" hours to develop manual dexterity.
I always was someone who loved to make stuff, cut and color and fold and stick stuff to other stuff and and and.
Of course, as a single-digit-age kid the "stuff" in question was mainly paper and cardboard, with the occasional plastic reused trinket. But! In the last year of elementary school (fifth year, 10/11 years old or more because in the seventies you could fail a year waaay more easily than now) there was the possibility to work plywood with those kind of arched saws.
To Mini-Juzo it was the Bestest Thing Ever. I could stick stuff at it and color it and it wouldn't warp!
Except we were in the seventies. Which was good for some things (you might not believe some of the subjects I was taught), and... not good for others. One of the many things not ok was the manual ability works were gendered. As in, boys to work on plywood, girls to work on crochet and cloth work.
Mini-Juzo was flabbergasted. Mini-Juzo wanted to work with plywood!
"But woodworking is for boys!" Mini-Juzo didn't give a shit. Mini-Juzo wanted woodworking.
"But girls should learn how to make pretty things!" Mini-Juzo could do pretty thing with plywood too.
"But girls must --" Mini-juzo then declared she wanted to be a boy and then make her work with the damned plywood.
"But but but --" and then everyone suddenly discovered how Mini-Juzo was able to do what in Italian is known as "piantare un casino", that is having a screaming fit that would have been heard from orbit, if space was able to transmit sound.
Mini-Juzo parents were questioned. Mini-Juzo parents, as the post-'68, commie voting, practical-headed parents they were, declared "well, leave her work with plywood, then."
And this is how Mini-Juzo was allowed to work with plywood, and incidentally why I was allowed to use boxcutters after a while, because I showed that I could be (uh, mostly) responsible with that kind of tools, and still I am.
[Mini-Juzo, sadly, never asked herself what would have happened to a boy that expressed the desire to crochet. That was a reflection for a grown-up Juzo.]

















