DISCLAIMER: This is a sprawling, grammatically incorrect, deeply disturbed thought-splurge which will probably be subject to heavy editing (or deletion) when I reread it in broad daylight.
I’ve always wondered what it’s really like to be female, because no matter how many face masks I use or amber scented candles I burn, I will never be one. I’ve never really distinguished myself from female friends because I’m so comfortable around them and so frequently in their company. I was recently reminded of the fact that there’s actually something fundamentally different about our biology, and thus our treatment in society, when I forgot that girls generally don’t want to find themselves walking home from clubs alone at 3am.
It’s also mother’s day today, which coincided with a dog menstruating on a duvet which I was later to sleep under last night. Much to my confusion, I didn’t experience any kind of profound spiritual connection with said dog, or become at one with the lunar cycles, or even reach an epiphanic moment in which I had an overwhelming urge to have lots of babies.
Am I being gross and weird?
Last week I found out about radical feminist spellings of the word ‘woman’ which remove from it the word ‘man’, thus rejecting the notion that woman (womyn, womban, wimmin) is defined by her relationship to man. Are they going too far? Is changing one letter of a word going to close the gender pay gap and heal society of its misogynistic undertow?
I can’t answer that question.
But as a sidenote, can everyone please send torrents of abuse to lilpoindexter who commented this on a video about black womyn: ‘Womyn? Dyke bitch?’
When I was young(er) and naive(r), I had a lot of questions for women in general, like, does putting a tampon in your vagina count as sex? Is giving birth more painful than accidentally stapling your finger? Is milk at your disposal whenever you need it? And do breasts get in the way of daily tasks?
Since then, I’ve learnt of a little thing called social awareness, and experience has dispelled myths about women from my psychological vocabulary.
*Sigh of relief*
However, I refuse to believe that Meryl Streep uses the toilet, sweats, or contains any unseemly bodily fluids at all. Actually, I prefer to think that under her clothes she’s all smooth and featureless, like a Barbie doll.
If anything here offended you, it’s okay; I come under the LGBTQ umbrella, so I’m exempt from any accusations of prejudice.
Here are some great things that have happened in the world of gender:
GRAYSON PERRY MAKING THE SUNDAY TIMES’ BEST DRESSED WOMEN LIST
ANDREJ PEJIC BEING VOTED ONTO FHM’S SEXIEST WOMEN LIST
AND THE BITTER, PREJUDICED UNDERCURRENT OF THE LITTLE PARAGRAPH WHICH FHM WRITERS PUBLISHED ALONGSIDE HIS ENTRY
AND THIS. FOREVER THIS.