Warning: if you are uncomfortable with words such as penis and vagina, do not read.
Prima facie, most people conclude that I must be an iconically up-and-coming feminist young woman. People who think they’ve managed to get to know me conclude that I must be an iconoclast, anti-feminist at best, and sexist at worst. It is a pity really, since all of these labels are profoundly mistaken because I do not care.
Let me clear the air now: I love being a woman. The vagina is not so great and the hormonal fluctuations are anything but desirable but my mind, my experiences and my potential - those are just down right phenomenal. Now do not get me wrong, it was not always this way. Up until three, maybe even a couple of years ago, I was as guilty of penis-envy as the guy with the small equipment. In fact, given my lack of equipment, I was probably worse off. I mean all the socio-politico-economic reasons aside, penises are pretty interesting things. There is so much to do with them. It is no wonder the idiots are so often playing with themselves (this is neither endorsement nor criticism of said behaviour).The point is, a penis (and I speak both as a scientist and a woman) is a fascinating thing. And for as long as I could remember, I wanted to have one. My very own penis.
It also struck me, some time around when I was six or seven years old, that there was an extra package that came with the penis- the male ego. If you have really encountered men in any capacity, I am sure (as a woman) you have been struck by the male ego. I cannot count how many moments in my brief twenty-one years, I have been compelled to ask myself, “where did he get the nerve?”. From his balls apparently. Or his ego. Somewhere. Whatever the case, they all share it. In varying degrees, with varying success but all men have an ego that is quite distinguishable from the female one. Needless to say, the male sex/gender whatever you like to call it, is a fascinating one and I used to wonder, why I had not been let into the club.
Granted, the most obvious things when one looks around oneself, are the socio-politico-economic benefits of being male. I, however, was more concerned with the physical and psychological benefits but these obvious ones had not eluded me. I suppose despite all the incoherent craziness and diversity of feminist ideology, it fundamentally concerns itself with these things - the economics, politics and society of not being a man (and sometimes being a woman). There are real facts concerning the inequalities and I have never been oblivious to them. I am significantly brighter than most people I have met, at least 50% of them have been male and yet I have had ‘sexism’ thrust in my face. I am not oblivious.
The story of how I came to love being a woman, is too complicated to tell, and I do not care to tell it right now. But needless to say, it happened and still is happening.However, the question is then, why am I not scrambling to build the empire(s) that is/are feminist ideology(ies)? I think there are two reasons. Most importantly, I hate labels. I hate labels, particularly of ideologies because they are over-simplifications at the best and limiting at worst.When a person ‘identifies’ as something, they must immediately subscribe to the ‘world’ of that thing and no matter how much redefinition occurs they must either remain trapped in that world or become something else - another labeled thing.
Feminism in particular, in all it’s sub-genres has had little to offer me beyond labels, thinly-veiled patronisation of ‘third-world’ women, assimilation and a poor sense of humour. I respectfully decline. Secondly, in the scramble to correct/rectify/address centuries of (and current) “male patriarchy”, I believe that many of the things that are wonderful about being a woman, have been lost to the wayside. The baby has been thrown out with the bath water. (Perhaps, that was intentional.) Suddenly my mind, my experiences and my potential, which I genuinely believe to be somewhat influenced by my vagina and crazy hormones, have suddenly become irrelevant facts. They are moot because they apparently do not matter for difference. “Women and men are essentially quite the same and deserve equal treatment.” Equality is a loaded word and I will not explore that here. In fact, if you have been paying attention, I am glossing over huge, perhaps even the more relevant issues, but gloss I shall.
I am not the same as the next man or woman. We are hardly similar. I am not a man or male and there is a lot about that which warrants different treatment. As a 21st century woman, I feel I have been done a disservice. I am not like all women and all women are not like me. But the nuance there has been lost. Someone, some people, are speaking for ‘women’ and just as mercilessly as it began, we have ironically remained faceless and indistinguishable. If I subscribe, I must be hidden behind a banner that lumps me up quite unceremoniously with many so different than I - I can scarcely recognise the place. If I subscribe to an ideology, it is one of individual personhood. Water, food, healthcare, equal rights, education - they are for everyone. I must divorce the amenity and effect from the individual or else the two become indistinguishable. Suddenly I have ceased being a woman and have become a cause. What nonsense.
This has degenerated into a rant. I suspect it has something to do with the glass of Bollinger on my left #Bad habits. In any case, I hope the point has been made. Stop crying in horror at my indifference. I simply have other things to do with my time and excuse me for preferring them to this battle for another kind of subjugation.
