Vaginas Can't Aim
(Another lesson learned)
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I was never that guy, hell bent on having a son, but when my first kid came into the world with a dingle-dangle, I was sort of relieved, since I knew all about how to help him navigate that particular anatomy in a world of babbling birds and buzzing bees.
Five years later, when my second kid emerged, sans dingle and dangle, I was surprised by how easy it was to adjust to her anatomy. Diaper changes were quicker and easier, and she didn’t need a cap over her pee-pee to keep me from getting sprayed in the face.
Life was good. So good, that when my wife suggested we potty train our kiddo, I was all-in. “Should be a breeze,” I said, all smiles. Only it wasn’t. Because I soon learned something that makes every “woman with a vagina” laugh at me: Vaginas cannot aim.
“What?” you ask (if you’re dumb like me). “Is this like that time in fifth grade when I heard women have ‘more than one hole?’" (Ladies, ask your biologically-male friends about this, and prepare to be amazed by the Rorschach splatter of awkward replies).
No. It’s not the same, but yes, it’s the same: vaginas cannot, in fact, be aimed, and it poses a major problem for a female toddler. You think Shamu has a “splash zone?”
"Just point it down a little and pee in the bottom,” I coaxed. “No, no! Not like that! Aim! You have to aim it so it doesn't splash out!" I exclaimed. “Elanaaaaaaaa!” (my wife), I screamed. “Alice keeps spraying pee everywhere! I need help! Please?!”
Necessary Side Bar:
When I was 21 I took a kick-ass job1 at a coffeeshop annexed to a restaurant above a full bar. Our tri-mecca was huge and popular, and everyone who worked there was unique, fun, and interesting. I absolutely loved it. (shout out to S.H. YOU ROCK)!
In the next two years I worked every job there. I was a barista, server, bar-back, bartender, prep-cook, custodian, and manager. But what stands out most from that era, is the utterly disgusting, dehumanizing closing task I had to do as a “lowly barista.”
I was in charge of cleaning the women’s bathroom!
Thanks to that job, For 20 years(!), I’ve said that drunk women are heinously careless, angry bathroom users. We say men are disgusting (we are), but if you want to learn how to toilet-paper a house, a woman’s bar bathroom at 2 a.m. is your Master Course!
OK. Side Bar Over.
But now? I’m not so sure. Have I been wrong all these years? Are drunk women not cruel, custodian-hating slobs, maniacally cackling as they throw yellowed soggy wads of TP at the walls and floors as they urinate and snort coke (not exaggerating)?
Could it be that those “evil women” weren’t “missing,” when they peed everywhere, and they’re just like my two-year-old, cursed with a ticking bladder, unable to aim?
I don’t have anywhere else to go with this, but not because I’m lazy. It’s from fatigue, after spending an inordinate amount of time researching how the BLEEP to refer to “women with a vagina” without getting attacked by an angry e-mob of wordsmiths.
I’m serious. Did you know that (until it changes) I’m supposed to call a “person born with a vagina” an “Assigned Female at Birth” (AFAB) and “penis-humans” (my word, and I think we should use it) are now AMAB? Who wants to play hot word-potato?!
Look. I’m a nice guy. If you met me, you’d probably leave thinking, “I get the feeling if I asked for Mike’s help, he’d try really hard to assist me. On the other hand, he’s also crazy and uses clever, but unsound reasoning, especially with issues of morality.”
So I’m going to say the following, as a nice guy. If you’re the kind of person who wants everyone to be afraid to talk about race, gender, sex, and other matters of opinion, because you get off on making others feel shame and fear and guilt: PLEASE STOP.
I’m not saying white supremacists and other bigots should run rampant and install systemic hierarchies that keep people oppressed. But, the solution to that (and other social issues) is NOT found in aggressive backlash or policing words and thought.
In fact, Thomas Sowell NAILED IT when he said, “There are no solutions. There are only trade-offs.” That’s Life. You’re here, everything is queer, and you can’t stay long. So be fair with people you hate and with those you like. And don’t piss on the seat.
A fictional version of this bar is the setting for my novel, “Too True To Be Good,” which is the greatest thing I’ve done with my brain. You can buy it here. It’s excellent. Ask my mom.
Lynita Mitchell-Blackwell has built an award-winning law firm and publishing house, is a #1 Bestselling Author, CPA, an ordained New Thought Minister. She is also a nationally recognized community leader. Oh, and she had a SCARY near death experience! Listen here.
Right on brother-from-our-mother-who-was-assigned-female-at-birth-correctly-and-had-functional-uterus-it-seemed-and-assigned-us-male-at-birth-which-was-fine-and-i-dont-even-mind-the-minor-genital-mutilation-called-circumcision-that-i-was-not-consenting-to-at-birth