Some decades back, genetic interactivity during conception determined that my X-chromosomes were to be predominant, and I was born male. For that, and in consideration of today’s times, I am grateful.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I look down on women or rate them any less as human beings. But culture being what it is, the men have come out of it better off.
I mean, could I imagine myself getting dressed to go to a function, and having my hairstyle all mussed or flattened up by the head scarf I wrap it tightly in? Loads of hair spray wouldn’t help, especially if the weather was hot and humid. Maybe a wig of coarse hair would come in handy in such situations.
And then as a female, to get into the back seat of a car, and get an immediate attack of carsickness as the car makes the first turn around the corner. If I am lucky, my driver may understand my entreaties to slow down and drive safely. But chances are that we would converse by hand signals or facial expressions, or better yet, vocal grunts.
And it would be more likely that I may be a better driver as a female, than this poor soul from some village more accustomed to steering ox-carts than to gasoline powered vehicles.
And if I had professional ambitions, I would have to learn to curb my appetite toward tried and true professions such as teaching, banking or medicine. But what if none of these outlets appeal to me? Well then, there is always the role of homemaker or kitchen slave as some may call it. Or else, I could whilst away my time sleeping in, indulging in idle chatter, or refurbishing my house for the seventh time this year!
If I were to get sick, I would have to roust a male guardian to take me in to see a doctor. And if this male guardian were in the midst of an afternoon nap, my ailments would just have to wait. And if my guardian happens to be the cause of my ailments, as a female I may never get to the doctor in the first place! My only hope would be to never get sick.
And if I wanted to disburse with some jewelry and sell it off, I would once again have to seek out this male guardian to dispense with it. Notwithstanding the fact that it may have been a gift from my male guardian, albeit with hideous taste, would it not hurt his feelings if I were to request him to return it. And that too after a session of misunderstandings and feelings of hurt or rejection.
And if I were to travel, once again I would have to drag my male guardian to sign me out. But what if I wanted to get away from him for a while? And what if he objected? Who wins?
And if I was contemplating starting a business to fill my time, who would push the mountains of paperwork through? My male guardian of course! That is, if he agrees to it in the first place.
And what about my treatment in public places? Wouldn’t the stares and gazes intimidate me, and make me want to rush off to the sanctity of my home. Or should I choose off-peak hours, when crowds are scarce to conduct my shopping. Strutting about in my hot and heavy cloak, as a woman, I am a non-entity. Let me not be fooled.
And if I have a son, would I not miss out on his school activities? Would he not miss the comforting presence of his mother during recitations or school sponsored contests? And what about his sisters? They may just have to sit at home and play with their Barbie Dolls, while their male sibling might be blossoming to be the star at school.
I would not possess one single photo document to prove my identity. I would have no say on my lot in life. Where would I stop? If I was woman, I could fill pages and pages on my status to no avail.
Yes indeed. I thank God that I was born a male! And a Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there.
— Tariq A. Al-Maeena ([email protected])
