I'm in my mid-twenties, and in the process of applying for disability (due to allover joint pains and stiffness caused by what several of the doctors I've seen so far, including my current one, believe to be rheumatoid arthritis). Part of this process involves a physical exam and, because I also have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, a psychological evaluation.
During my visit with the psychologist, after we established that I was not currently working outside the home for pay due to my physical disability, I was asked whether I am able to do any housework. I answered that I am able to do most of it, although I do need help with some tasks because I don't have full use of my hands. Am I able to do any grocery shopping, the psychologist asked? I answered that I am often unable to walk long distances, but yes, I can do most of the shopping.
What about cooking, he asked? No, I replied. My husband likes to cook, so he does most of the cooking. The psychologist gave me what I can only describe as a disapproving look, then looked down, shook his head, and scribbled furiously on his notepad for several minutes before continuing the exam.
This issue comes up constantly in my husband's and my interactions with friends, family, and acquaintances. I especially get lectured about what my role is now as "housewife." Those who know about my disability, or who are informed of it, mostly dismiss it (and its impact on my daily activies) out of hand.
I probably still wouldn't be doing the cooking even if I did have full use of my hands, because cooking is my husband's hobby. That's what he does to relax. I also don't particularly like to cook; I tend to get distracted, unless I'm baking or making something special. My husband is an excellent cook, and this arrangement works well for us.
It amazes me that in the twenty-first century, people still react to this the way they do.
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