She had pulled the middle finger at motherhood and it had been her choice. Nobody was going to tell her what to do. The Patriarchy had stolen enough from her and the sisterhood and there was no way she was going to contribute to the clusterfuck of toxicity she struggled to wade through every single goddamn day. Mittens and Dr. Pockets, her two cats watched her get dressed. She was not an attractive woman by conventional standards, but conventional standards were created by the Patriarchy, so after years of therapy she had in recent months been able to accept her body as beautiful no matter what it looked like. It made getting ready a very efficient affair as she no longer had to worry about the ever thickening mono brow on her face and the bulk hair under her arms. Life was great.
She was on a mission. Since embracing herself she had taken on every cause known to the victim plagued circles she liked to frequent. The previous week she had cried with members of the Bull Dyke Ballet Dancer Organisation that had met to vent their frustration at being discriminated against on two fronts. They were excluded not only for being raging lesbians, but because they weighed as much as a small automobile. There was no man in the ballet industry who could lift any of them. So, they had come together to cry and wail like the walruses they were. It had been a successful meeting and she had promised to attend others in the future. Today was for a cause she took even more seriously. She was fundraising for a cause that would not need help at all if it were not for the fucking Patriarchy. Dr. Pockets rubbed up against her legs as she looked at herself in the mirror. Mittens was taking a shit. The One Legged Male to Female Transgender Brass Band Association was going to make a fortune today.
Her designated fundraising street was close to where she lived so she decided to walk. Outside, the wind blew through her hair and for a moment she felt like a model on a photo shoot. Her mind slipped into a dream like state where she was posing for the cover of a women’s magazine. There was a crew of nineteen and they all kept telling her she was the most beautiful model they had had. Random guys were checking her out and one asked for her number. A branch from a tree that had been broken off by the now gale force winds broke her out of her daydream. It was just as well. Modelling and positive feelings regarding male attention were all social constructs and a recipe for a miserable life. This is why lesbians were so much happier. It was society that made them angry. She was still in the process of transitioning to full blown lesbianism. Her Patriarchy brainwashed mind was still utterly repulsed at the idea of cunnilingus and she hated herself for that.
She knocked on a door. An old man answered. “Good morning, Sir. I’m fundraising for The One Legged Male to Female Transgender Brass Band Association. Would you like to contribute?” she said.
“Why are they one legged?” said the old man.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Pre or post op?” he said.
“ARE THEY CHICKS WITH OR WITHOUT DICKS?!” he said. Taken aback by the ferociousness and blatant bigotry of the stupid old man’s demented utterance, she fell flat on her arse and rolled out onto the street. She heard the door slam as she briefly stared at the patterned concrete of the gutter. It was a mean old world. She wanted to burn his house down but that would contribute to climate change. She picked herself up and brushed the empty chip packet off her dress that had stuck to her during the great assault. It reminded her that she was hungry.
Ever since embracing who she was, no thought had been given to what and how much she ate. Why should it? Health standards were formulated by motherfucking men who really had no idea what it was like to be a woman or what it was like to be a hungry woman. She bought an entire cooked chicken and went and sat in a nearby park. She grabbed the chicken and ripped both legs clean off from the rest of it. She imagined the chicken to be the Patriarchy and she represented the powerful Matriarchy. She tried to fit both legs in her mouth but she gagged and ate them one at a time. A homeless man approached her. “Can I have a bite, sweetheart?” he said.
“Absolutely, disadvantaged man,” she said.
“Did you just call me a dickhead man?”
“No! Why would I do that?”
“Well, it fucking sounded like it. Give me all the chicken,” he said.
“It’s not like you need it.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m fat?”
“Darlin’, you’re the size of a fucking house. Now give me that goddamn chicken. A psychotic and raging fire ignited within her at the homeless man’s offhanded comment. Flashbacks spun in fast forward through her mind like a lunatic cinema and everything she saw spread the fire within her. Images of the Patriarchy calling her fat and the toxic male laughter that accompanied such unfounded bullshit. “YOU WANT SOME CHICKEN?!? WELL HERE!! HAVE SOME GODDAMN CHICKEN!!!” she said. She grabbed him by the throat. With a delicate and almost graceful twist and a pull, she threw him to the ground and sat on him. “HERE!! EAT ALL THE CHICKEN!!” she said as she stuffed the rest of the chicken carcass into the mouth of the homeless man. Bits of avian meat and bone flew through the air and into her face like confetti at a wedding. The homeless man eventually lost consciousness but she kept stuffing the chicken deep inside his oral cavity. Passersby stared in confusion. Some thought a lewd act was taking place. She had never felt more alive. Her disappointment at not having raised any money for The One Legged Male to Female Transgender Brass Band Association evaporated like boiling water in a kettle that had been left on for an extended period of time. She had defeated an agent of the Patriarchy, one in disguise no less. The toxicity that this piece of shit represented was now choking on roasted chicken meat in a park and it had all been pretty easy. All she had to do was harness her female powers. If she was able to wield this power alone, the Sisterhood combined would be an unbeatable force. Further proof that the future was in fact female.