“How it all played out in the decades that followed is noteworthy.”
Aratta occupied himself for a few moments with his pipe. He puffed on it a few times, and soon a faint scent of vaporized cinnamon wafted in the air.
“Farm labor held the highest status in the collective. While women pushed themselves to work hard, it had little to do with intrinsic fulfillment and virtually everything to do with the wish to prove to themselves and to others they could do anything men could.
“Almost from the start, they suffered a high miscarriage rate due to the ultra-heavy loads. What’s more, most of them realized they were incapable of performing certain agricultural jobs as effectively as most men: they didn’t have the same physical strength, and their work was frequently interrupted by the need to breastfeed their children. Consequently, many women chose to move to the horticulture and service branches as they were in closer proximity to the infants’ houses and were less physically demanding.
“As the years went by, the women visibly aged under the backbreaking labor and exposure to the elements. The realization they were losing their sex appeal was highly threatening—especially so given that the new marriage bond was maintained solely by attraction and romantic love; it did not have to endure out of any commitment or economic considerations.
“The women did not truly raise their offspring. Looking back, they found no meaningful memories of shared experiences. They did not have a role in the failures and successes of their young ones. Slowly, it dawned on them they were not fulfilled as mothers, and came to feel they had betrayed their children. A bone-deep sense of loss had accompanied them for the remainder of their lives.”
“What about the offspring,” asked Lee, “those who grew up in this environment?”
“It is just as interesting. The kids were raised in a non-gendered regime. The idea was that the young people would internalize the novel ideology, and later, as adults, they would exhibit few, if any, distinct gender expressions, outwardly or otherwise. Girls and boys were to be acquainted with each others’ bodies and regard nudity nonchalantly, the differences in sexual anatomy were to be treated much as eye color variations. To this end, boys and girls shared shower facilities and undressed in plain view of members of the opposite sex.
“This Edenic dystopia lasted precisely until the onset of puberty in females, when biology overrode and did a course correction. The very girls who had been raised in a sex-blind environment became abashed and didn’t want to be seen naked by the boys. They began to shower and change out of their sight, and the community rules and expectations be damned.”
Susan grinned. “It reminds me of my grandson’s elementary school,” she told the people in the room. “Last year, in keeping up with the times, the boys’ and girls’ restrooms were designated gender-neutral. Kids started to hold it the whole day, waiting to get home and do their business—as boys were mortified to be seen peeing in the urinal by girls, and girls had their stalls kicked-open by boys.” She drew her lips in a tight smile. “Eventually, in an unspoken agreement, the children decided to disregard the new school policy: the boys made it a point to go to one restroom and the girls to another.”
There were chuckles around the room.
“How did things end up in the collectives in Palestine?” inquired Brandon.
“I think you can guess,” Aratta replied. “The women who were born into the system of radical identicality that held land work in high status wanted no part of it. They came to view the divisions in gender roles as something rooted in biology. They disavowed the idea that equal status meant becoming male alike. Instead, the native-born generation sought an equal social status with distinct sex roles. They spurned the idea that gender distinctions ought to be minimized, and gradually there was a revival of feminine attire and accessories: high heels, nylon stockings, and cosmetics.
“This multi-generational experience took place concurrently in numerous standalone settlements across the region. The outcome has been comparable throughout.
“Alas, all of this might as well have happened on a different planet for all the impact it had on the doctrinaires in the academia who have been peddling the notion that gender differences are strictly due to sex-role socialization and sociopolitical power disparities. The decades-long experience of those tens of thousands of people was ignored and by now is long forgotten.”
Chapter 26
About an hour later, two young women arrived at the costume party. As they walked down the tiled passageway alongside the rock garden, they drew the eyes of nearby guests, most notably the four men in the outdoor hot tub.
The young woman closest to the men had straight, midnight-black hair, almost touching the small of her back. Her lipstick appeared vulgar—set against the alabaster skin and the small, refined nose. The dangerous gleam in the gray eyes made one fancy that her scarlet lips bit into flesh of her lovers.
The girl sported a stretchy tube top, the clingy fabric advertising the lack of undergarments. She wore matching skin-tight leggings with reflective off-white stripes that undulated in tandem with her moving thighs. Both top and bottom pieces were of the same glistening metallic-gray material, providing a feeling of something wet and wild and utterly unapologetic.
Her companion commanded the men’s attention just as much.
She was a tall, stunning young black woman: a princess on a night stroll. Underneath a gold silk choker around her throat, loose fabric draped over her right shoulder and plunged diagonally, leaving one breast bare. Decorative scars adorned the side of her body and then disappeared beneath her floor-length dress, which rippled and shimmered as she walked. Her wavy, lustrous hair was brushed to one side and cascaded well past her shoulder, exposing a part-shaven head painted silver. She carried a sleeping infant in a wrap and, at her side, a small child walked, holding her hand, staring in avid fascination at the costumed guests.
“Holy boobs!” exclaimed Puddeck from the hot tub and sat up.
Brandon’s face lit up. “Gorgeous and hotter than the sun,” he called out to the two young women.
The girl in leggings shot an amused glance his way as she kept walking alongside her companion, the two of them chatting and laughing over something. Brandon found himself breaking out in a silly grin.
Gary, Brandon, Puddeck, and Galecki were in a dimly lit cedar-paneled alcove, soaking in hot water that bubbled and eddied. Except for Galecki, each nursed a bottle of beer.
“I could sit here and worship you for hours,” Brandon yelled after them one more time. He feasted on the sight of the firm, rounded ass, following it with his eyes until the girl in leggings and her companion disappeared from view, heading down to the basement’s dance floor, no doubt.
Gary barked a short, deep laugh. “I bet any man here would fuck those girls’ brains out if they had the chance,” he crowed. “They are built to sit on a man’s face.”
Across the rock garden, Ashley and Heather were glowering at them with disapproval.
“A woman advertises, men lust and chase her, until she catches one of them,” hollered Puddeck in response.
Ashley strode over and stopped at the edge of the hot tub. She looked down at the four men, and her nostrils flared. “Did it occur to you they dressed this way simply to feel good about themselves?” Her black high heels and ankles were bathed in the glow coming from the underwater pool lights.
“Oh, come on, Ashley,” protested Gary. He gazed up at her as she stood over them in a wicked little black dress that covered her upper thighs. She was hot all right, even with the wide-brim, pointy witch hat. “Girls are not spending the evening alone in their apartment wearing makeup and a tight miniskirt,” he pointed out. “This type of good feeling is—directly or indirectly—fueled by males’ attention. Situations of perceived risk aside, let’s not kid ourselves,” he said. “Women are turned on by the sexual power they exert, the draw th
ey generate, and the affirmation they look fantastic. Just note the kicks camgirls are getting from the attention showered on them, and the length to which they will go to garner more of it.”
He now recalled that Ashley, like Heather, was doing a doctoral dissertation on women.
“Flirting is essential,” Galecki chimed in. “Jeering is one thing, but compliments are another. Don’t misconstrue the roguish with the vile, the lighthearted with the menacing. Don’t be in a hurry to squelch catcalling.”
“Oh yeah?” She levelled him a glowering look. “How about a little decorum? Maybe we don’t want to be treated as sex objects.”
“Not objects, entities; objects do not possess agency,” Gary corrected. “And those two women were treated as sex entities, as no doubt they intended to when they spent an inordinate amount of time making it so—and then chose to broadcast it to all the males within range.”
Ashley eyed Gary curiously, and he felt compelled to say more. “When that girl walked by with skin-tight leggings, practically spray-painted on, revealing every curve of every arc, well, she might as well have planted her crotch on a man’s limbic system. That chick did not consult Danny boy here”—he gave Brandon a friendly shove—“before discounting his agency and reducing him to a drooling dog.”
“His arousal is not someone else’s problem to solve,” Ashley said primly and smoothed down her short gown. “A woman has a right to her body, and she has the right to dress like a slut if that’s what she feels like doing.”
Brandon gave her an insolent smile. “By the same token, a man has a right to his eyes and vocal cords. If you’re hot and dressed like you want to get fucked right here, males will lust after you, dream of banging you, and might catcall you. You can’t have it both ways, Ash. Taking the twin peaks out on display is like going for a stroll holding raw meat with collared wolves watching on—then get aggravated and taken aback they salivate and maybe howl.”
She sniffed indignantly. “This comes awfully close to excusing away rape. ‘I couldn’t help it, your Honor.’”
“Like hell it does,” Gary shot back. “This is like saying that ogling and loudly exclaiming over a jewelry display comes awfully close to smashing the glass case and robbing the store.”
“Girls today want freedom without accountability for the signals they broadcast,” Galecki commented. “Having the agency without the encumbrance of responsibility.”
Brandon grinned. “It must be rough to be a hot girl.”
Gary shook his head sorrowfully. “It is surely unbearable to be given an appreciative gaze from countless men. When you smile, men smile back and may offer you a place to crash if you are passing through town. It is taxing to have guys fall all over you, drop everything to change your tire, or provide you a free ski lesson. Bet you can’t wait to get past your expiration date when finally men will stop badgering and looking at you. Bet you can’t wait to lose your power over men.”
Ashely’s mouth twitched with amusement, revealing even white teeth. “Well, it is tedious to get hit on by douchebags and losers.” She cast a quick sideway glance at Brandon before returning her attention to Gary. “I don’t mind getting a long, hard look from some guys, though.”
“Privilege is indeed invisible to those who have it,” muttered Galecki to himself.
Ashley was still at it. “You know what they say, the louder the catcalls, the smaller the balls. Isn’t that what they found with howler monkeys?” She knelt and sat back on her feet. The eyes of the men followed the movement of her thighs.
Gary tore his eyes away and looked up at her face. “This leaves the alpha males in a great place,” he said. “As for the majority of men, the ‘douchebags’ and ‘losers’ as you so charitably refer to them, not so great place. You complain it is tedious to have subpar males hit on you. Forgive me for not being able to work up a tear. It is all too easy for you to disdain those who do not meet your cut and lust you. But things look a lot different from where the average man is standing.” His gaze flicked over her. “Cock teased, he has to make a fool of himself out there, take risks and get the proverbial slap time and again, keep the grunting, snarling sexual beast away from the flimsily-clad female, her curves and her swaying tits. Then trudge home—with nothing. Once again.”
Ashley brushed off what he was saying, uninterested. “It sucks for women to be valued by their boobs and overall look, as if we are nothing but a utility for sex.”
“In case you have not been paying attention,” said Gary crisply, “the meat-market dynamics cut both ways, sweetheart.” He turned to the men lounging next to him. “They showed a bunch of headless photos of men without shirts and asked women to rate them. Under the female gaze, the more muscular and stronger-looking the guy, the more attractive he appeared to the women.” Broad shouldered and muscular—better chances to take down or fend off a big animal, he mused. The need to grapple with large game was long gone; the ancient wiring has remained, though.
Galecki submersed for a moment, then blinked a few times to clear the water from his eyes before he focused on the woman in the black cocktail dress in front of them. “It may suck for you, young lady, to be judged by your looks,” he said, “but it also sucked for me, back in the day, to be assessed as a possible mate by my earning potential and perceived ability to climb the dominance hierarchy, as if I am nothing but a utility for obtaining resources and security.” He gave her a tight smile. “Females as a source of sex, males as a fount for resources—it is nothing personal. It’s merely nature’s way to make sure the outcomes of a possible sexual union are viable.” Or as the terse Chinese saying went, lang cai nü mao.
Gary grinned. “We wouldn’t mind getting laid without any sentiments.” There were whoops.
“How nice for you,” Ashley responded sweetly, the red-lacquered fingertips of one hand traveled under the water surface, her black spiked leather bracelet getting wet. “The cost for a man to have casual sex is a few jabs on the shoulders from jeering male friends. For a woman, it could spell a life-changing encounter.”
Galecki’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Hey, aren’t those now the days of ‘You go girl!’ and ‘Do whatever you want whenever you want with whomever you want’? Got laid and have buyer’s remorse? You know who to blame. Neglected to take the pill and have an ‘accident’? You get to ‘abort’ the unborn, and it’s back on the saddle.”
The elderly man regarded Ashley. How things had changed from the time he was young. “You see, I actually happen to agree with you. Given its natural consequences, sex for a woman is playing baby roulette; it can be life altering and should not be done casually. Around one million terminations of the unborn annually in America, of one stripe or another, attest to this. In fact, I do think we need to prop back up the shotgun marriage in times of need; fathers should be made to stick around.”
Shotgun marriage! Ashley regarded the older man with scorn. She returned her attention to Gary. “Whenever a girl wants to hook up,” Ashley said, “she still wants to be treated as a human being, not as a commodity.”
“Look,” said Gary, “in a hookup situation, what you witness in men is merely a reflection of how we typically like our sex served—with strangers, promiscuously, and without attachments. You will see this very type of sexual dynamics—undiluted—among homosexual guys. In fact, what you see in female-male sexual interplay is more of a compromise between the woman’s inclination to develop relationship with her date and the man’s desire, in a hookup context, to bang a girl and then move on to the next one.”
“Banging the chick,” agreed Puddeck. He smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand for emphasis. “First, last, and always. Even those effeminate dudes who read poetry and drink soy milk are like, ‘This is my shtick, that’s how I am going to bang the chick.’” He fist-bumped with Gary.
“My man here is right,” said Gary. They fist-bumped again. “When w
omen regard men as creeps or pervs for essentially exhibiting regular male psyche, they cast some of male’s sexuality outside the pale. To an extent, they pathologize males’ sexual drive and outlook.”
Ashley smiled to herself with amusement. “So you’re saying boys will be boys.” She pulled her hand out of the water, shook it, and casually wiped it on her dress.
“You are doing it right now,” Gary raised his voice slightly. “What I’m saying is that men will be men.”
She rolled her eyes. “You think only men want to get laid?”
“Sorry, babe,” said Gary. “But our sex drive is more intense and urgent—popular rumors to the contrary notwithstanding.” As he saw it, a man’s reproductive strategy had been all about seizing every opportunity.
“You know what, you four have confirmed what women accuse men of,” she declared. In one fluid motion, she flipped her hair back and put the witch hat back on. She got up and sauntered away.
“Did you notice her rack under that little dress of hers?” asked Puddeck and took a drink from his bottle.
Brandon eyed Ashley as she joined Heather. With occasional hoots of laughter, the two were conversing animatedly. “Why do you think she came over?”
“My guess?” said Gary. “She gets hit on by a lot of ‘losers,’ and it rubs her the wrong way. Besides, every pool has a queen, and after those two chicks had passed by, she was restoring order, getting our eyeballs to point the right direction.” There were chuckles around the tub. “But mostly, I think she has the hots for Brandon here, and she walked up to remind him she is still there, waiting.” More laughter.
The great mass of curls swayed as Brandon shook his head. “A woman may want kindness, warmth, and egalitarian relationship—and yet may masturbate herself to orgasm as she fantasizes of being ravished, pinned against a wall, succumbing to some brute. Female’s erotica is strewn with these kinds of fantasies.”
The Earth Hearing Page 28