The Goddess, Laughing
“It’s a boy!” shouted Govind Chiderambam. “My first-born is a boy! Let the celebrations begin! All of New Delhi shall rejoice!”
“It’s a boy!” Li Hao bowed before the cradle and smiled at his wife. “Our only permitted child is a boy! Let us go to the temple at the New Year Festival and give thanks.”
“It’s a boy!” Young Musharraf al-Wossname ripped off his keffiyeh and twirled it round his head. “I have a son!” Shouts of appreciation poured out of every tent in the desert encampment, and soon men emerged to dance around the brazier outside Musharraf’s tent.
In Ireland Brian Muldoon and his wife Kathleen went to church so the priest could bless their first-born, a son.
“A little son,” murmured Juan Castaneda to his wife Juanita. “Well done. Let’s give thanks at the cathedral.”
Traditionally, the Goddess allowed 105 boys to be born for every 100 girls, males being the weaker sex and more likely to die before adulthood. At first no one noticed that only boys were being born. The boy toddlers had an excellent time making mud pies and swinging on the swings without competition from girls.
In the classroom, with no girls to outshine them at lessons, the boys did only the minimum necessary to ascend from one grade to the next.
The soccer and football teams were used to all-male members anyway, and the lacrosse teams soon became comfortable with all males. Games weren’t quite as much fun without skimpily clad girls, baring lots of leg, jumping up and down to cheer the boys.
Proms became a thing of the past: there was no point in having them without girls to dance with. Besides, none of the boys had ever been taught how to dance.
At colleges and universities, the graduating class resembled those of the turn of the century—the 19th century. There were no women among them.
The time came to get jobs and rent apartments. But what pleasure was it? There were no women to make things lovely: no bright flowers gracing the table, no gaily patterned curtains or cushions, no heavenly aromas drifting from the kitchen. Men bolted down TV dinners or carried home fast food to devour in front of the TV. Soon, however, TV, movies, and video games began to pall.
Gangs of young men began to roam the cities and countryside, fighting each other over imagined slights. Armies ramped up, although there were no wives and children to defend. It was more a question of territories—which belonged to which tribe. Frequently the men were drunk; often, their livers began to deteriorate from alcoholism and too much fatty food. Many died of easily preventable diseases.
At last the more cyber savvy among them began to launch drones and missiles against owners of other territories. Some even managed to launch nukes. “They’ll blow up their world,” the Goddess said contemptuously, watching from a distant galaxy.
And so they did.
She laughed and turned her attention to the new world She was creating. It would be a planet inhabited solely by women, who would reproduce by parthenogenesis.
The End
This was our writers’ group assignment for April, to write a “What-if” construction. I asked the four men in the group if they had ever wondered, for as long as sixty seconds, what it was like to know you were unwelcome in this world; to know, from the hour of your birth to the day you died that you would be denigrated, discounted, even despised.
Such are the doings of patriarchy.
Thank you for this short story Lady D. I have always enjoyed stories which explore all-female societies.
Thank you for reading it, Sis!
Thank you for posting this! Your question to the males in your group was exactly the right one: “have you ever wondered, for as long as sixty seconds, what it would be like to know you were unwelcome in this world?” All one has to do is look at the current state of reproductive rights in America to understand just how much women are despised by the men who write laws. For women to have to beg to have careers, to control any part of their lives – to literally stay alive – is deplorable. I am not sure how it will turn out; I hope my daughter’s generation can fix this mess.
Thanks for reading, Jan! We seem to take one step forward, two steps back. I hate that.
And yes, I hope your daughter’s generation can fix it.
{{{Diana}}} I have frequently thought that the best revenge women could ever have on men, and the best thing we could do in the long run for the planet, is to do just this – give them sons. Only sons.
Wouldn’t that be interesting! We can get some idea of what it would be like by studying the Muslim world. The multiple wives of one man produce offspring that are always plotting against each other.
Thanks for reading the story!