The Female Man

by Joanna Russ

He wants me to cringe. I really think so. Not the content of what I say but the endless, endless feeding of his vanity, the shaky structure of self. Even the intelligent ones. “Don’t you appreciate what I’m trying to do for you?” Kiss-me-I’m-a-goodguy. “Don’t you have any idea how important this is?” Sliding down the slippery gulf into invisibility. “This could make history!” Even me, with all my training! “Of course, we have a tradition to uphold.” It’ll be slow. “—we’ll have to go slowly. One thing at a time.” If it’s practical. “We’ll have to find out what’s practicable. This may be—uh—visionary. It may be in advance of its time.” Can’t legislate morality. “We can’t force people against their inclinations and we have generations of conditioning to overcome. Perhaps in a decade—” Perhaps never. “—perhaps never. But men of good will—” Did he hear that? “—and women, too, of course, you understand that the word ‘men’ includes the word ‘women’; it’s only usage—” Everyone must have his own abortion. “—and not really important. You might even say” (he giggles) “ ‘everyone and his husband’ or ‘everyone will be entitled to his own abortion’ ” (he roars) “but I want you to go back to your people and tell them—” It’s unofficial. “—that we’re prepared to negotiate. But it can’t be official. You must understand that I face considerable opposition. And most women—not, you, of course; you’re different—well, most women aren’t used to thinking a thing through like this. They can’t do it...