2336. A home improvement partnership

Sharlene’s mother had imbued certain practical skills into her. For example, Sharlene was a wonderful seamstress. (It’s not that Sharlene’s mother hadn’t taught the boys how to sew, it’s just that Sharlene was better at it).

Clyde’s father had imbued certain practical skills into him. For example, Clyde was a wonderful cabinet maker. (It’s not that Clyde’s father hadn’t taught the girls how to do carpentry, it’s just that Clyde was better at it).

Anyway, Sharlene and Clyde met, fell in love, and got married. Together they bought an old house and thought they would “do it up”. Not too much at once – they weren’t exactly made of money – but a bit here and a bit there according to what the pocket could afford. They started with making and installing a large window in the sitting room that overlooked a lake and a spectacular chain of mountains. Such a view!

This was where Clyde’s carpentry skills came in handy. Nothing was to be rushed. Everything was to be perfect. And how perfect it was! The window was exact. The workmanship was meticulous. To be honest, when installed it looked to be flawlessness itself!

Sharlene quickly sewed some drapes to soften and hide the window’s “straight, cold, masculine lines” that Clyde had taken such care to make.

2262. The world I woke to

Some of the parents with more liberated ideas were furious with their children’s school policy.  Halloween and Thanksgiving were fast approaching and the school had organized a Pumpkin Festival. In reality it was a pumpkin competition; whoever grew the biggest pumpkin would win a pair of rather expensive snow boots.

“That’s right,” swore parent Kim Buckwell, “fill the children with an ugly competitive spirit.”

There were two pairs of snow boots awaiting the competition; both suitable for either a girl or a boy. In the interest of equity the school decided one pair should go to the girl who grew the biggest pumpkin and one to the boy who grew the biggest pumpkin.

Now Joseph had seen Nigel’s pumpkin. It was huge. There was no beating it. Joseph’s pumpkin was big but not as big as Nigel’s. Joseph’s parents concurred with his decision; he would call himself Josephine, tie the hair into a ponytail, and change a pronoun or two. Having done that he entered his hefty pumpkin into the girls’ section of the competition.

The girls were horrified. Maizie declared that her pumpkin was big but nowhere near as big as Josephine’s. “I would win the snow boots if that horrid boy hadn’t turned into a girl,” said Maizie.

The judges agreed with Maizie. Nigel won the boys’ section and Maizie won the girls’ section. Josephine was disqualified. It was grossly unfair.

“It was like a kick in the balls,” said Josephine.

2025. Are you gender neutral or gender neutral?

Most interplanetary aliens look like humans. They have two arms, two legs, two nostrils, two ears, and so on. Presumably underneath their clothes they are much the same as humans, but an earthly visitor could hardly ask aliens to take off their clothes to enable observation.

The problem is – and this seems to be the case in all twenty-seven known planets with intelligent beings – in looks at least, males and females seem very much the same; same hair, same complexion, same height, and so on. They appear to be gender neutral, although they clearly make babies one way or another.

Even the Honniplexes, whose climate and terrain are as different as one could get from Earth, have human features, although their feet are slightly oversized.

How do all these aliens know which is which? Who is what when it comes to sex? Obviously one can’t wait until “the moment” to find out that the other person is the wrong gender to make a baby. As Marilynn Duckplath declared in Earth Parliament, “How can we use non-sexist language when we don’t know what gender we are trying to avoid? It has become a matter of science to find out the interplanetary facts of life.”

There was nothing for it but to send a crew out into space to force the aliens to strip. But what a disappointment! “We were extremely disappointed with what we scientifically observed,” reported the head scientist to Earth Parliament. “We took all sorts of measurements and everything seemed much the same as my own bits and pieces.” Marilynn Duckplath pushed even further: “Could you describe what you observed in greater detail.”

Enough is enough. Marilynn was greatly dissatisfied. She took the sex of aliens into her own hands. The next time aliens came to Earth she asked them point blank: “Which of you are males and which are females and how do you tell the difference?”  The answer stunned the scientific community. One planet distinguished the sexes via smell, another through sound, another through touch, another by giving a gentle bite on the neck when greeting a hitherto unknown person. Earth seemed to be the only planet that sorted out sexual identity via looks.

Marilynn took the lead in introducing new legislation on Earth. “How can we have gender equality throughout the cosmos when there are vastly different ways of identifying gender? From now on humans will identify their gender via sound. That way we can strive for universal equality.”

And that is why little boys are taught to fart loudly and crudely, whereas little girls (who are sugar and spice and all things nice) are taught to fart in the quietest possible manner.

Further legislation is to be introduced in the future to refine the situation. It is sexist to demand that boys and girls be taught to fart differently. All must fart the same. In future, aliens when they visit are to rightly be perplexed as to who are the males and who are the females. They’ll consider sending a team of scientists to investigate.

1969. Nesting season

Squaggle Quack was a duck. More particularly, he was a drake. And what a fine drake he was! Mrs. Quack was known as Mrs. Quack, although her closest friends called her Seaxburh. She was named after Queen Seaxburh, an ancient Queen of Wessex. Her maiden name was Hrafnkelsdóttir. Very few know that.

The time had come for Squaggle and Seaxburh to start a family. The first priority was to choose a site for the nest. What a shamozzles! They couldn’t agree. Squaggle wanted the nest in the long grass on the side of a road.

“It’s dangerous,” said Seaxburh. “And there’s absolutely no view. What about on the side of that hill where I can enjoy the view of the valley as I sit on the eggs for four weeks?”

The discussion raged for several days. In the end, Squaggle won. A nest was made on the side of the road, with no view, and open to the elements.

“I think we should have eleven eggs,” suggested Squaggle.

“But I had my heart set on nine eggs,” said Seaxburh. In the end, Squaggle won. Eleven eggs were laid.

Seaxburh began the marathon of sitting on eleven eggs in a cold nest next to the road. It was the most boring thing she had ever done in her life. So uninteresting! So testing! And the rain! You’ve no idea!

In the meantime, Squaggle had flown off at the beginning of the sitting session and never bothered to come back. He’d done his part.

When the eleven ducklings hatched, Seaxburh told them that their family name was Seaxburhsdóttir or Seaxburhssen. Good on you, Seaxburh!