Chapter 1
A Simple Question
I was standing in front of a naked man.
This wasnt exactly how I thought my career would go. But I was determined to leave no stone unturned.
Being a sixty-six-year-old man, he said, I mean, theres the obvious things, you know, that physically make a woman.
I was in San Franciscos Castro District, probably the queerest place in America. Rainbow flags were everywhere. Luckily, our little corner of the street was free of human feces and needles. And I guess technically the man I was talking to wasnt completely naked. He was wearing a sock. Just one.
There are features of a woman that Im attracted to and that he paused for a moment. Im probably fumbling over the answer.
He wasnt the only one fumbling for an answer.
I had gathered up a documentary crew and had been asking everyone I could find what I thought was an absurdlyalmost insultinglysimple question: What is a woman? Yet out of confusion or fear or sometimes even anger, almost nobody could answer the question.
I went to Times Square in New York, hoping maybe somebody on the other side of the country could help me out.
What, specifically, makes someone a woman? I asked a guy on the street.
I wouldnt know what to answer that, he said.
Ok then. I turned around and saw a couple walking by. Maybe Id have better luck with two people instead of one, so I asked them what their answer would be.
Ummm... I that is a hard question, the girl said.
Is it a hard question? I asked.
Yes, she said with a drawn-out pause.
Why is it hard? I followed up.
Because I personally believe gender is fluid. I think there is a distinguishment between sex and gender, she responded. So, I dont know if there is a picture-perfect way to describe a woman.
That does beg the question what womens rights, womens issues, womens products, womens clothing, womens literature, womens studies, or the Womens March actually means. I soldiered on.
What is a woman? I asked a woman walking down the street in Hollywood, California.
Ummm she began before a long pause. A choice. Ok, not like a choice but like a, uh, option. Like, youre I suppose its because youre not determined from the moment youre born. Youre freer.
Free from what, I wondered. And I still didnt have an answer. I was compelled to try again.
So, what is a woman? I asked a woman in Nashville, Tennessee.
A woman is someone that likes to be pretty and think of themselves as a delicate creature, she said.
Im pretty and delicate, I said. I could be a woman too?
Yes, you could. If you wanted to be, you could, she answered.
I turned to another woman. Well, I guess I wasnt sure. She looked like a woman and spoke like a woman, but I didnt ask her if she thought of herself as pretty and delicate. How would you define the word woman? I asked.
I think someone who identifies as a woman, the person answered.
Someone who identifies as a woman is a woman? I asked.
Yeah.
Alright, thats it?
Thats it!
Identity. Being delicate. An option. There seemed to be a million answers for what is a woman. Oddly enough, none of them featured biology or DNA or reproduction. Some people I asked rejected the idea that how you were born has any claim over your sex.
And some asserted that anyone who is not a woman (whatever that word means) doesnt even have a right to answer the question.
Why are you asking a gay man as to what it means to be a woman? someone asked me accusingly as I had just finished up talking with a rather flamboyant gay man. The person approaching looked to be a biological male trying to pass as a womana so-called trans woman, as I learned. He had thick features, sported a purple fedora, and wore a black shirt with the words Eat. Halloween. Repeat. in blocky letters. You should be asking women what it means to be a woman, especially trans women, the man continued.
Im asking all kinds of people, I responded guilelessly. Can anyone have an opinion about it?
Only people who are a woman, he said. Gay men dont know nothing about what it means to be a woman.
So gay men shouldnt have opinions on what a woman is? I asked. Have you told gay men here in San Francisco that theyre not allowed to talk about this?
No, but its not like I go around talking about what a gay man is allowed to be, he answered.
I didnt say what youre allowed to be , I clarified. Im asking people their opinions on what a woman is.
Same difference, he said. If somebody was to come and ask me what a gay man is, Im like, Go ask a gay man.
Hold on, I thoughtdoes identity determine who is allowed to speak? I asked him, So, youre saying if youre not a woman, then you shouldnt have an opinion?
Where does a guy get a right to say what a woman is? Women only know what women are, he said.
Are you a cat? I asked.
No.
Can you tell me what a cat is?
He looked down, then glanced at my cameraman through his sunglasses, holding back a grimace. The walls of the intellectual corner he had painted around himself were closing in fast.
You know what, this is actually a genuine mistake, and I am sorry I even came up here. He walked away.
Do you want to tell us what a woman is? I called after him. He made no response.
An Epic Journey
What is a woman? For the past eight months, I have devoted nearly all of my waking hours to see who can answer this simple question. Honestly, its odd to even feel the need to ask.
For most of my life, I thought everyone knew the answer. Maybe you did too. Its not like we had to pull out Websters Dictionary to figure it out. Women are adult human females. They have XX chromosomes. They can bear children and give birth. Theyre not necessarily nicer than men, but they sure are better looking. Even if you didnt know the science or use the exact right words, you could point a woman out pretty easily. By nature, they look and act differently from men.
But as with so many things in life, I found in my journey that the educated set of our civilization has developed an entire ideology confounding this simple questionand that confusion has percolated throughout society to the point that a dwindling few people can tell up from down anymore.
Its not like relativist gender theorists are aware of a large number of nuances or qualifications that old-fashioned rubes like us cant understand. The honest truth is that, in all their learning, they unlearned common sense.
