I don’t want to put my story on this site, as I think that is a space better used for women’s stories as they receive the principal harm from sexism, but it reminded me of a potluck dinner I attended at a job a few years ago.
I’d made lasagna, and the lasagna I make is damn good.
I brought it in and more than one person (and one of whom was a woman, too) said, “This is really good. Did your girlfriend make this? Who made this for you?”
This is after I’d already told everyone that I made the lasagna. Because of course it’s impossible for a man to cook something tasty with no female assistance….