Do you know what’s weird about me? I like thinking deeply about things, things I don’t understand, things I want to explore, things that interest me. I swear, inside my brain there is a senile old man pushing a wheelbarrow, traversing through my experiences and collecting stray ideas and thoughts before arriving at my front door and upending his discoveries at my feet. Of course, faced with “gifts” from W-Man (he’s also kind of a plaid wearing hipster), I have no choice but to devote an unending supply of energy into figuring out my strays so that they can be rehomed elsewhere. One such gem that W-Man presented to me in my teenage years was the idea of “penis envy”. I had never heard of a more ludicrous thought, I mean “pen envy” I definitely get, in fact, as someone who loves the old school guide of pen over paper, I often am guilty of pen envy. Big time. But to envy a penis of all things? Nope, teenage brain and W-Man laughed that one straight out. It’s only years later that I start to wonder about Freud and if I haven’t misunderstood his theory.
I’m not saying that I have penis envy or that I believe the theory holds true, but I have been thinking lately that maybe having a penis would be useful. I mean imagine this, instead of me getting angry the other day, not the screaming-throwing-chairs-around angry, but the cross-your-arms-and-lean-back-in-your-chair kind of angry, I could have just whipped out my penis and broken the tension with the resounding slap of it on the table. Instead of me having to yet again defend my right to exist as Patron of Patriarchy’s peer, we could have just laughed of our “misunderstanding”. Oh, how we would have laughed- Patron of Patriarchy and I. How we would have laughed and laughed. Because instead of Patron of Patriarchy feeling insecure, threatened and a deep desire to see me fail, he would have seen me as one of his own. He would have wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and slapped me on the back and joked of how just moments ago he had asked me to prove myself to him. It would not have been my education, years of experience, capability or that I was good at my job that would have changed his mind about me, it would have been the penis that I literally brought to the table. I’m no psychologist, but if that’s how Freud had described “penis envy”, then I would have been the first one to raise my hand and say “I’m broken” because the inconvenient truth from an inconvenient woman is that life is easier as a man. Patriarchy is absolutely amazing, if you have a penis that is, for the rest of us, let’s just say it’s not that grand. So yes, I am envious of those who have had an easier time than I have, I envious of those who don’t feel like they need to run twice as hard just to stay in the same spot. I’m envious of those who get a chance to fail and who are applauded for it, I’m envious of those who are naturally heard and who don’t have to fight for it. You bet I’m envious.
I am not, however, so envious that I want a penis permanently attached to me, that’s so old school I almost fell asleep thinking about it. No, I want a detachable penis to use as and when I see fit. In fact, since I’m on this path, how about having a wide variety of these penises? A handbag sized one or an emergency one that you could attach to your car keys. A business penis for those important meetings where your tiny female voice doesn’t exist. A home penis for the days when you want to claim that you’re “just not as good at washing the dishes”. A family penis when someone wants to ask why you haven’t had children yet and prescribes some home remedy for a quick pregnancy. A disco penis (I am picturing glitter) for the guy who thinks buying you a drink means you’ve consented to having sex with him. Sign me up, I’ll take one of each in every colour you have.