I get what you are saying. Culturally, they would have ignored you if Charles was giving opposing directions. OR, if they just assumed that if a man was present, the man would be in charge.
A while back there was an article in, I think, the L. A. Times, where the author explained that she had to fire her nanny/housekeeper/helper lady, because she was treating her son as if he were a little king and her daughter as the “lesser” child. At a practicum I attended in child development—the rich white folks sent their kids with the Latina nannies—a little boy maybe 2-3 years old was dancing around to some music. The nannies were talking about him, calling him a “mariposo” which is the slang equivalent of “fairy.” (I ratted them out to faculty, who included teaching parents to look for those responses.)
My “Mexican American” grandfather was born in Arizona, which was a part of Mexico, before it was a state. His best friend was Roy McClelland. He named his son Roy. My “Mexican American” grandmother’s mother was born Jenny Brown…her dad, Hank was from Illinois. That crowd’s first language was Spanish. But when Mark Twain wrote about the insane stage coach drivers, one of them was my ancestor, Brown. The men all spoke and could read and write (somewhat) in English. Nobody taught reading and writing in Spanish, so my grandfather spelled Spanish words with English phonics. Really hard to read! Oh! And another WAAAY back person on my Mexican side was the guy who mapped Colonial Baltimore. Go figure. I think folks got along better back then.
But by the time my mom was a young bride, things had changed. Irish were no longer welcome on the east coast. My parents went to a restaurant that had a sign that said “No dogs or Mexicans.” Mom RUDELY informed them that they had just served “a Mexican.”
I managed to learn SOME German. I can still say “I want to rent a furnished apartment,” should the need arise.
