Sara Pascoe - Animal

Writing a book is an arrogant thing to do.

I do stand-up for my main job, and thats pretty arrogant too. At work, Im the only person in the room who is allowed to talk, Im the only one who gets to have a microphone and essentially I make everyone sit there and listen to me going on about myself and my thoughts and ideas. A book is an even longer version of that, but I have so much to say that a gig wouldnt be long enough to fit it all in.

For a while Ive been researching various theories of female sexuality. I thought that if I could learn to understand hormones and desire and brain functions then maybe I could make better life decisions, maybe I wouldnt be so confused by myself. I had this idea that just like dogs and pigs and dolphins, human beings are animals. And so, like other animals, we should have a programmed set of instinctual behaviours, but no one seems to agree what they are. I wondered if perhaps our cultures, religions and societal pressures had concealed our animal natures, even from ourselves. I kept visualising the modern human as a battleground with inherited instinct pulling us one way and learned propriety pulling us another and all of us struggling to understand or like ourselves.

I wanted to unravel us.

When I researched more around this topic, I realised there are two distinct investigations currently going on. There are the excellent scientists who are deciphering the codification of behaviour written in our genes, the physical shaping of our bodies by evolution and the emotional capacity of our brains. And separately, there are the cultural commentators; the sociologists, philosophers and feminists who write about society and media and modern reality, who discuss how womens bodies are treated, fetishised, worshipped, denigrated or controlled.

I wanted to bring these two separate conversations together. To highlight some of the aspects of womanhood I am struggling with, to discuss what science can teach us and how culture can hurt us. I want to tell you fascinating things about our ancient ancestry and the terrors of recent civilisation, and to ponder the relevance for us alive guys, us now-timers. I want to show you that for every woman in the world, knowledge and communication are the finest form of self-defence. That empowerment lies in comprehending ourselves as beasts and in accepting ourselves as we were built.

Ill be suggesting lots of further reading for you at the end.

Hello! My name is Sara and I am thirty-four. I am English, Caucasian. I live in London in a flat that doesnt allow pets. I have no religion but a lot of faith. I have always wanted to write a book.

When I was eighteen years old I decided to apply for Cambridge University. Id read somewhere that being part of the Footlights drama society was a great way to become a famous actor, which had been my ambition since realising I did not want a proper job. I put Cambridge as the top choice on my UCAS form. My predicted grades werent good enough, so I had a chat with my kindly teachers and begged them to predict me As rather than Cs. Geoffrey, my psychology tutor, said I wouldnt be properly prepared for the interview without coaching. I explained that my aunty Juliet had seen a news programme saying that there was pressure on Oxbridge to admit more students from working-class families and so I reckoned Id be alright, then I worked my class right out of there.

AND I GOT AN INTERVIEW! They have to interview everyone who applies, and I was thrilled to be one of those lucky everyone. My mum decided to take the day off work and come with me. I borrowed some of her clothes to wear. My sisters had no one to drop them at school so they came too. The four of us went for breakfast in Cambridge city centre. My mum talked about how wed all move there to live some day, while I ate egg muffins. We got lost on the way to the college. It was called Corpus Christi, which like all Latin means you dont belong here. I was fifteen minutes late for a twenty-minute interview, but I didnt let that upset me. I was from a working-class family, raised in Dagenham then Romford. I had an Essex accent and my mums suit on. I was exactly what they were looking for.

I was interviewed by the Oldest Man in the World. His office was full of piled-up books. This is just like my bedroom, I told him, except in my bedroom its clothes. He creaked a question: Why do you want to study philosophy at Cambridge?

SARA
I want to come to Cambridge so I can be in Footlights.

OMITW
Why philosophy?

SARA
I think its really really good.

OMITW
Who have you read?

SARA
Jostein Gaarder. Sophies World?

OLDEST MAN IN THE WORLD shakes head and speaks very slowly as if recalling an awful war.

OMITW
I was concerned this would happen, but so far you are the first one.

Then I pronounced Plato and Socrates exactly as you do if youve only ever seen them written down: Plateau is mega good. As was So-crates. Then I left.

It took me a decade to realise what the old mans comment about Sophies World had meant. Id loved that book because it introduced me to some really complicated concepts, because it summarised philosophers and their ideas so simply. And of course that was the Cambridge dons problem: it gave Essex girls in their mums clothes the audacity to think they might understand anything.

But I didnt know that yet. I was so exhilarated being in that ancient churchy building, and I had another interview that I wasnt late for. I told this much more Normally Aged Man that I wanted to be in Footlights and then famous and, hopefully, friends with Stephen Fry.

NAM
Anything else? Apart from acting?

SARA
Im going to write a book about sex and my generation.

NAM
Why?

SARA
I just think its really interesting.

NAM
Why?

SARA
Its really interesting.

In the back of the car on the way home I tried to read a book about Wittgenstein, but I kept getting distracted by my own excitement at how well Id nailed the interviews and how much fun I was going to have being in Footlights. And it would be scary to move away from home, but I would expand my mind and learn to ride a bike and have a little bed in a little room and fall in love with an intellectual boy who was homosexual and I was VERY surprised to receive a rejection letter two weeks later. Clearly they werent as hungry for commoners as Aunty Juliet had led me to believe.

At least you got an interview, my mum kept telling me.

That was half my lifetime ago and look at me now, curled up with you and Stephen Fry, reading a book I wrote about sex and my generation. I think its really interesting and I hope you find lots to think about too.

Dream big, kids. May all your rejections quickly become laughable, because anyone who says no to you is an idiot. Xxxxx

Important question before we start

My name doesnt have an h on it, but its pronounced Sarah not Sah-rah. Make sure you are pronouncing it correctly in your head.

When I do my job, Im referred to as a female comedian. With most occupations, being a doctor or teacher or chef or whatever, you are defined by the type of work you do. But my job title also includes my gender. I dont do it any differently to the non-females, I stand there speaking words, sometimes walking from side to side or throwing a hand in the air. My boobs dont get in the way or make me fall off the stage or anything, yet female pre-empts my comedian. Like a disclaimer. I dont hate this and Im not angry, but its made me notice gender more than I would have otherwise.