Let me make something clear: My personal inability to cook anything even slightly edible has nothing to do with a lack of practice, talent, or patience; the capacity to create dishes that appeal is influenced solely by one factor: a conscious decision.
I am a woman, and thus it falls upon me to break the incredibly sexist standard of the kind of supremacy only a woman could call her own: that of kitchen talents, domestic affairs, and stains that will just not come out of the carpet. Those of my opposite sex are doomed to never successfully step foot into the kitchen, according to a man. This conviction is, of course, yet another decisive choice flourished in order to achieve some personal interest.
If men are terrible cooks, it's because they don't want to be good cooks. I am a terrible cook because, yes, I am generally too lazy to attempt learning the art of great food, but also because being a good cook would mean accepting the age old concept of separate spheres: that women will only ever control food and cleaning and children while the men get down and dirty in politics and finance and science. This idea that women are intrinsically superior to men at dicing potatoes and mixing spices and boiling carrots is a stereotype that obstructs females from venturing into the man’s world—it ignores the fact that cooking is a skill, and excuses an idiotic man of his laziness because of some fake biological characteristic contrast to his intrinsic manliness.
