Insane or Inspired? One Man’s Bid to End Patriarchy Forever (Part 23)

Je Ne Sais Quoi

I had a sinking feeling, as Jay handed Lucy the megaphone. She was not the most diplomatic person in the world, after all. And now, perhaps feeling giddy with power, there was no telling what was on her mind, or what she might use this unique opportunity to communicate. I only hoped that she understood the potentially explosive nature of the situation, and that we were all exposed and vulnerable, should anything go wrong. On the other hand, having recently demonstrated her innate wisdom, I had to accept the fact that she may have something incredibly profound to say; something that may even have the power to improve the lives of those in attendance… forever.

All eyes remained firmly fixed upon my sister as she raised the megaphone to her mouth and proceeded to speak. “Nobody has ever seen a Ferengi penis,” she began. Although, given that Lucy was speaking in French, I realised that it probably wasn’t what she had intended to say. “Why not?” she continued. “Because the Ferengi don’t actually exist.”

Of course, at this point I had to accept that her knowledge of French was significantly more advanced than I’d realised. Although, I still hadn’t figured out why she was using it, or where she was going with her Star Trek references. Were there even any French speakers in the audience, I wondered, who could appreciate her crude sense of humour? The answer to this question, at least, was soon answered, as a group of student backpackers suddenly began laughing and applauding.

Stand-up comedy is hard enough to make work in one’s own language. So for an English speaking schoolgirl to pull it off in GCSE-level French… Well, it didn’t just show that my sister had talent, it also showed that she had balls. Balls of steel, as Kerensa might say. And I couldn’t help but feel proud of her for it.

Unfortunately, due to my own knowledge of French being relatively limited, I was unable to follow Lucy’s routine to the end, or determine the precise point that she was trying to make. I knew that she was spilling the beans about what we were doing there, one way or another. However, by targeting a specific demographic, who were less likely to give a toss, she was cleverly minimising the risk of a violent confrontation.

In the end, everyone applauded her speech, out of politeness, before she led those who were suitably attired into the surf. This was her moment, after all, and she was evidently intent upon celebrating it.

“Did she bring a change of clothes with her?” asked Jay. “I wasn’t aware of her intention to go for a dip.”

She hadn’t, as far as I was aware, and so I immediately volunteered to go and buy some for her. However, given the number and variety of artisan shops that were open, I soon found myself shopping for more than just clothes. In fact, by the time I’d finished, I realised that I’d become completely lost, in what was a confusing labyrinth of narrow, cobbled streets. “Excuse me,” I said to someone, before realising that I didn’t even know the name of the beach that I needed to get back to (and there were many).

It was then that I recognised the group of students, who had found Lucy’s presentation so humorous. And so I hurriedly approached them, in the hope of getting an escort back to the beach. To my surprise, they also recognised me, and were apparently eager to speak about what they’d heard. “None of us could believe what we were ‘earing,” said one of the girls. “What was this crazy talk that she was making? Is it true?”

Before answering her question, I proceeded to explain my predicament and ask for assistance. I think it’s fair to say that I had never been so desperate for a “oui oui” in all of my life. And I duly got one. In fact, all eight of them were apparently “very ‘appy” to accompany me back to the place from whence I came.

The crowd had completely dispersed by this time, although there were still a few tourists milling around in the twilight. Lucy herself was sitting on a grassy bank, wrapped in a towel, as Jay and Kerensa cooked food on a nearby barbecue. Realising that I still hadn’t answered Giselle’s question, I invited the whole group to join us for supper. “Really?” she replied. “That would be perfect, because we haven’t eaten yet.”

“Finally,” said Lucy, as she spotted us approaching.

“It’s ‘er,” I heard one of the students say. Apparently they perceived Lucy as some sort of local celebrity. In fact, Giselle proceeded to ask for her autograph.

Lucy declined, however, explaining that that was the whole point of her speech. “It’s about gender, not personality,” she told them. “A Ferengi has no gender, in reality, but we do. And, despite what you may think, that means something. In fact, it means everything.”

“So, it’s true?” said Giselle, repeating her earlier question. “It was symbolism?”

Lucy explained to Giselle that what she witnessed that evening was a symbolic act of submission to the Goddess, who is embodied in all females. “Which means,” she added, “that the men in our community would very much like to have your autograph.”

“My autograph?” she queried. “But I am no one special.”

“Who told you that?” said Lucy. “Why do you believe that your gender is spiritually meaningless? The only reason why you hold that belief is because you live in a society where that belief has been practised for countless generations. That’s where most of your beliefs come from, you know. But that society — your society — has been deliberately engineered to instill that particular belief within you, and many others besides. It’s called patriarchy. But now imagine growing up, instead, in a society where the opposite belief is practised, in accordance with the ancient knowledge. Girls in such a society, in our society, very quickly realise that their gender is highly significant. And, by the time they become adults, the so-called modern society that you’re living in now, and from which you evidently borrow your beliefs, is seen for what it truly is… an abomination.”

Lucy spoke so forcefully, and passionately, that I don’t think anyone dared to say a word in response. Instead, the gaggle of students sat meekly down on a nearby bench. “Will there be enough food for everyone, Jay,” I asked him.

“Loaves and fishes, Melanie,” he replied, “loaves and fishes.”

Kerensa looked at me with an ‘I told you so’ expression on her face. I think she quite liked the idea of having the Messiah as her boyfriend, even though she, of all people, must have understood her own spiritual significance. I mean, if Jay couldn’t convince his own girlfriend of her goddesshood, then whom could he convince? And yet, she was evidently still more focused upon his divinity than her own.

Precisely who Jay actually was remained something of a mystery, I had to admit. During my brief possession by the Goddess, I didn’t sense that she saw him as Her servant, but as Her consort; Her creation. And now it was literally his ‘birth day’. The one day of the year when he celebrated that creation; his own emergence from the cosmic womb. It certainly wasn’t a birthday celebration in the traditional sense, however. I wasn’t even supposed to say the words, “happy birthday,” according to those who I’d spoken to about it. But, in the end, following a few drinks, it just kind of slipped out.

“Thank you,” he acknowledged.

“Jay was the first,” said Kerensa, a few moments later.

It must have been a whole minute before I picked up on the comment. “What do you mean, first?” I asked her.

“You know, when the Goddess was creating the masculine. He was the first.”

Kerensa didn’t seem to realise the significance of what she was saying. Or, maybe she did realise, and that’s precisely why she saw him as she did. “Are you telling me that Jay was the firstborn of all creation?”

“Numero uno,” she replied, gleefully.

I turned towards Jay for clarification. “It’s true,” he confirmed. “It was just the Goddess and I for a very, very long time. You know, in the beginning…”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so I didn’t. I simply took the plate of burgers and strolled back to the group. The campfire was burning brightly, at this point, and Lucy was using it to warm her feet. “Thank God,” she said, upon seeing the food. Someone immediately pointed out her faux pas. “Thank Goddess,” she hastily corrected herself. This then led to a conversation about words, which morphed into a conversation about languages. And, eventually, it led to the following statement, by Lucy: “It’s a good job that you guys can all speak such good English, because I’m useless at French.”

Needless to say, it left everyone in a state of puzzlement, including myself.

“Your French is perfect,” said Giselle.

I could tell that Lucy was genuinely perplexed by this. “I can just about order a coffee,” she told them, “but that’s about it.”

To Be Continued