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I Want to be a Seahorse

29/1/2013

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Image: Theodore Scott
TRIGGER WARNING. When I grow up, I want to be a seahorse. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a superhuman combination of mother, doctor, and astronaut; now, I just want to be a seahorse. It might seem irrational to you, but I do have logic on my side. Being a woman is hard; being a girl was hard too, but it's harder now that I'm an adult.

The main reason I want to be a seahorse is because (if you'll indulge my use of colloquial language) Mrs Seahorse lays her eggs in Mr Seahorse's belly and leaves him to do the heavy heaving. Yes, if you see a seahorse spewing a stream of baby seahorses out its belly button, that's Mr Seahorse, not Mrs. This would save me the weeks when Mordor invades my knickers; as an added bonus, my uterus wouldn't regularly (or not so regularly, as the case may be) graffiti my best date-night knickers with stuff that Vanish won't clean.

Reason number 2? I would have the seahorse equivalent of a stand-to-pee attachment. Now, I know that seahorses don't care if they stand or sit during urination, but creatures with penises get raped less often than their vagina-owning counterparts. While male humans do get raped, it happens to women far more frequently. If I had been a seahorse, my first time would not have been at the hands of a Rohypnol-wielding knob-end (from my scant memories of the event, more than just the tip made it into my lady-parts, but he was...er...diminutive in that area).

Third Major Reason: Seahorses don't discriminate in the work-place. Finding food is everyone's responsibility – they live to feed themselves – and they don't really care what each other are doing. While it leaves little provision for retirement (see Potential Down-Side 2 below), the huge benefit is that an individual seahorse's worth isn't defined by biological sex or skin colour. It must be wonderful to be a member of a species that doesn't bully other members based on things that were genetic accidents they had no control over.

Other reasons include:
  • The lack of parental input by seahorses. Yes, I feel the biological imperative to have babies; no, I don't want every conversation I have in the next decade to be interrupted by, “Mum, I need a wee,” “Mum, I'm hungry,” “Mum, my brother's pulling my hair...”
  • Seahorses don't care about money. Imagine a life where all your work consisted of was finding food. No need to spend hours working for an ungrateful boss, or have the stress running your own business, just swimming.
  • Housing is simple if you're a seahorse. All you really need is a bit of territory and some seaweed for Mr Seahorse to wrap his tail around while he's birthing your young. No rent or council tax, no heating and/or insulation, nothing but the warm ocean.
Potential down-sides:
  • I don't know how to shape-shift, and I'm not sure how else to become a seahorse
  • Premature death is very likely if I live anywhere the Chinese send their fishing boats. The Chinese are unethically harvesting hundreds of thousands of seahorses for use in medicine. They have no policy on size at harvest, or protected species.

I could re-structure society so that I didn't have to write my race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation on every application form.

Or I could change the world. I could re-structure society so that I didn't have to write my race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation on every application form. It's society's perception of my genitalia (skin colour/political beliefs/whatever) that's the problem.

Would I be a better scientist if I had a cock rather than a pussy? No. Marie Curie was a woman who made great advances in her field; the fact that she lacked man-parts doesn't make her any less of a contributor to history than all the male chemists who won Nobel prizes. Would I be a better person? I'll leave an exception for hormone-related mood swings, but otherwise men are no better than women.

Does it matter? How does skin colour, genitalia, faith, or an appreciation for cock/pussy affect our personal worth enough to warrant declaring it on a form? The short answer is, it doesn't. But everyone is so caught up in their boxes and labels that we spend our lives fighting to be better than the rest, when all we should do is be a better version of ourselves. So screw it, I'll just become a seahorse.

Bridget Schuil - Lover of science, plants, tea, wine, peaceful pursuits and fast cars. You can follow Bridget on Twitter and read her blog here
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