More unkosher thoughts

I have been toying with the idea of female circumcision. Gutting all apparatuses of pleasure prior to womanhood, or marriage. To a Westerner, hedonist pigs that we are, it is a highly suspect idea. Where is the agency, the choice? Agreed. But. Who are we really kidding, is there any female agency in Western culture either? There is certainly the _guise_ of it, for sure, but is there really, and deeply, any more control for women in the lovely war-loving Occident? Nominally, I suppose.

Wouldn't it maybe be better to know exactly what you were up against from the get-go so as to not be distracted by the things that you can never have. Wouldn't it be better to live in a Harem so as to share the burden of a household, and to share the companionship that is so often missing from a monogamous (ha), individual couple? Close the window with a black curtain, paint the glass ceiling red?! Now, in no way should this be read that I advocate violence against women (well maybe myself, but that is another story)but, can't we at least attempt transparency?

So, no removal of genitals, but what about the hysteria? How many Western women had un-wanted and un-invited hysterectomies, the cancer of the womb, the written word, the denied access to pen and paper, or the over-zealous, jealous reading of those words, destroying of the diaries, the life-lines, written on the body, in invisible ink. We secretly pass this to our daughters without thinking that we, by the same token, are repeating the silent misery. If I were a Kennedy, I could just have a Lobotomy... and then the docile femininity would return...

The chalice, the vessel, the provider of life. What if we all just stopped? International, Inter-planetary boycott of reproduction! Then reproductive rights might get a closer look. Men have the right to procreate whenever, but the real reason that they cut us down is that they are scared shitless that one day (perhaps not in lontananza)...we will foreclose on their future. And no matter how many rapes are perpetuated, if we refuse, they will not be able to muddle through on their own. The current situation in the Middle East should be a prime example: you cannot create peace, you cannot raise a child, you cannot heal the world by destroying it! (imposed Democracy is the antithesis of true democracy) and sadly, it seems that men, not women, are endowed more heavily with the destructive force.

Yes, I am well aware of the conflicting view points on this, and I have never claimed to be either philosopher nor writer (by trade, anyway, necessitiy, now that is different). Shiva reigns eternal, but you cannot sustain a world where creative and destructive forces are in imbalance, and the systematic dismantling of women (by women, as often as not) will not have a fructiferous result in the long run. That is why I propose the boycott. If there is swift and crippling reception,(a metaphoric foot to the groin) maybe the men will stop, and scratch their balls for a moment, and wonder what happened, and reflect on the necessity of killing more people and the inalienability of having bigger and better cars, and more black slag to poison themselves with...

This is my fantasy, of course. Reminding myself that even with a woman ob/gyn, after 10 hours of useless labor and toil, I was forced to receive a pitocin injection, causing more pain and less progress, but maybe fun to watch for a sadist. And then, against my wishes, so they could reverse the fuck-up of overdosing me and sending me into 30 minutes of unrelenting contraction upon contraction, they wanted to give me pain killers...I meekly refused... but 6 hours later, when I could not make my body do what it was supposed to, according to their time-frame, I was again held against my will, told to bend over and not move (they could not be held responsible for possibly paralyzing me by hitting a nerve, if I would just sit still... so uncooperative, as always). The needle, piercing my nervous system, calming the pain, but for whom? Certainly not for me, I would have begged, if not so worn down at 4 am, to let me just stay the course. A three-day labor would have been a thousand times better, and if the end result was death? Wouldn't that be divine justice, an eye for an eye, a child for a mother? Part of me, of course, did die then, it just took a little more perseverance to discover that, but in dying there is always a rebirth, a re-direction of energy.

In the end, I just let them steal the child from me, and give me drugs, so I could forget. I didn't forget and, as it would happen, they didn't read my chart and so, I got to relive the joys of a morphine allergy... This of course made the baby drowsy, and not nurse to their required standards, and once more, against my will, she was given formula while I struggled to extract the colostrum with a machine... (If I ever do it again, I will be a VBAC, I swear, and I will have a midwife not a doctor, and it will not be in the Uninhibited State of Anglo-domination)

This may seem un-related and tangential, but it is actually quite relevant. WE are responsible for our bodies. WE are responsible for our minds and souls. WE must do something to stop this machinistic masculinity that steam-rolls our individual rights. It must stop! So, if castrating ourselves physically is not the answer, castrating ourselves mentally certainly is not; but we need to use our words, our minds like a shield around this planet. They cannot come back in until they learn to wipe their feet and step softly and not carry a big stick!