TERFs get OWNED by BASED trans man()(Must read during these trying times)

"Yes, may I help you?" Oshima asks her amiably.

"Just to let you know, we're investigating public cultural facilities in the entire country from a woman's point of view, looking at ease of use, fair access, and other issues," she says. "Our group is doing a yearlong investigation and plans to publish a public report on our findings. A large number of women are involved in this project, and the two of us happen to be in charge of this region."

"If you don't mind," Oshima says, "would you tell me the name of this organization?"

The woman whips out a business card and passes it to him.

His expression unchanged, Oshima reads it carefully, places it on the counter, then looks up with a blazing smile and gazes intently at the woman. A first-class smile guaranteed to make any red-blooded woman blush.

This woman, strangely enough, doesn't react, not even a twitch of an eyebrow.

"What we've concluded is that, unfortunately, this library has several issues that need to be addressed."

"From the viewpoint of women, is what you're saying," Oshima commented.

"Correct, from the viewpoint of women," the woman answers. She clears her throat. "And we'd like to bring this up with your administration and hear their response, so if you don't mind?"

"We don't have something as fancy as an administration, but I would be happy to listen to you."

"Well, first of all you have no restroom set aside for women. That's correct, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right. There's no women's restroom in this library. We have one restroom for both men and women."

"Even if you are a private facility, since you're open to the public don't you think—in principle—that you should provide separate restrooms for men and women?"

"In principle?" Oshima says.

"Correct. Shared facilities give rise to all sorts of harassment. According to our survey, the majority of women are reluctant to use shared bathrooms. This is a clear case of neglect of your female patrons."

"Neglect...," Oshima says, and makes a face like he's swallowed something bitter by mistake. He doesn't much like the sound of the word, it would seem.

"An intentional oversight."

"Intentional oversight," he repeats, and gives some thought to this clumsy phrase.

"So what is your reaction to all this?" the woman asks, barely containing her irritation.

"As you can see," Oshima says, "we're a very small library. And unfortunately we don't have the space for separate restrooms. Naturally it would be better to have separate facilities, but none of our patrons have ever complained. For better or for worse, our library doesn't get very crowded. If you'd like to pursue this issue of separate restrooms further, I suggest you go to the Boeing headquarters in Seattle and address the issue of restrooms on 747s. A 747's much bigger than our little library, and much more crowded.

As far as I'm aware, all restrooms on passenger jets are shared by men and women."

The tall woman frowns at him severely, her cheekbones jutting forward and her glasses riding up her nose. "We are not investigating airplanes .747s are beside the point."

"Wouldn't restrooms in both jets and in our library—in principle—give rise to the same sorts of problems?"

"We are investigating, one by one, public facilities. We're not here to argue over principles."

Oshima's supple smile never fades during this exchange. "Is that so? I could have sworn that principles were exactly what we were discussing."

The woman realizes she's blown it. She blushes a bit, though not because of Oshima's s*x appeal. She tries a different tack. "At any rate, jumbo jets are irrelevant here. Don't try to confuse the issue."

"Understood. No more airplanes," Oshima promises. "We'll bring things down to earth."

The woman glares at him and, after taking a breath, forges on. "One other issue I'd like to raise is how you have authors here separated by s*x."

"Yes, that's right. The person who was in charge before us cataloged these and for whatever reason divided them into male and female. We were thinking of recataloging all of them, but haven't been able to as of yet."

"We're not criticizing you for this," she says.

Oshima tilts his head slightly.

"The problem, though, is that in all categories male authors are listed before female authors," she says. "To our way of thinking this violates the principle of sexual equality and is totally unfair."

Oshima picks up her business card again, runs his eyes over it, then lays it back down on the counter. "Ms. Soga," he begins, "when they called the role in school your name would have come before Ms. Tanaka, and after Ms. Sekine. Did you file a complaint about that? Did you object, asking them to reverse the order? Does G get angry because it follows F in the alphabet? Does page 68 in a book start a revolution just because it follows 67?"

"That's not the point," she says angrily. "You're intentionally trying to confuse the issue."

Hearing this, the shorter woman, who'd been standing in front of a stack taking notes, races over.

"Intentionally trying to confuse the issue," Oshima repeats, like he's underlining the woman's words.

"Are you denying it?"

"That's a red herring," Oshima replies.

The woman named Soga stands there, mouth slightly ajar, not saying a word.

"In English there's this expression red herring. Something that's very interesting but leads you astray from the main topic. I'm afraid I haven't looked into why they use that kind of expression, though."

"Herrings or mackerel or whatever, you're dodging the issue."

"Actually what I'm doing is shifting the analogy," Oshima says. "One of the most effective methods of argument, according to Aristotle. The citizens of ancient Athens enjoyed using this kind of intellectual trick very much. It's a shame, though, that at the time women weren't included in the definition of 'citizen.'"

"Are you making fun of us?"

Oshima shakes his head. "Look, what I'm trying to get across is this: I'm sure there are many more effective ways of making sure that Japanese women's rights are guaranteed than sniffing around a small library in a little town and complaining about the restrooms and the card catalog. We're doing our level best to see that this modest library of ours helps the community. We've assembled an outstanding collection for people who love books. And we do our utmost to put a human face on all our dealings with the public. You might not be aware of it, but this library's collection of poetry-related material from the 1910s to the mid-Showa period is nationally recognized. Of course there are things we could do better, and limits to what we can accomplish. But rest assured we're doing our very best. I think it'd be a whole lot better if you focus on what we do well than what we're unable to do. Isn't that what you call fair?"

The tall woman looks at the short one, who looks back up at her and opens her mouth for the first time. "You've just been evading the point, mouthing empty arguments that avoid taking responsibility," she says in a really high-pitched voice. "In reality, to use the term for the sake of convenience, what you're doing is an easygoing attempt at self-justification. You are a totally pathetic, historical example of the phallocentric, to put it mildly."

"A pathetic, historical example," Oshima repeats, obviously impressed. By his tone of voice he seems to like the sound of that phrase.

"In other words you're a typical sexist, patriarchic male," the tall one pipes in, unable to conceal her irritation.

"A patriarchic male," Oshima again repeats.

The short one ignores this and goes on. "You're employing the status quo and the cheap phallocentric logic that supports it to reduce the entire female gender to second-class citizens, to limit and deprive women of the rights they're due. You're doing this unconsciously rather than deliberately, but that makes you even guiltier. You protect vested male interests and become inured to the pain of others, and don't even try to see what evil your blindness causes women and society. I realize that problems with restrooms and card catalogs are mere details, but if we don't begin with the small things we'll never be able to throw off the cloak of blindness that covers our society. Those are the principles by which we act."

"That's the way every sensible woman feels," the tall one adds, her face expressionless.

"How could any woman of generous spirit behave otherwise, given the torments that I face," Oshima says.

The two women stand there as silent as icebergs.

"Electra, by Sophocles. A wonderful play. And by the way, the term gender was originally used to indicate grammatical gender. My feeling is the word 's*x' is more accurate in terms of indicating physical sexual difference. Using 'gender' here is incorrect. To put a linguistic fine point on it."

A frozen silence follows.

"At any rate, what you've been saying is fundamentally wrong," Oshima says, calmly yet emphatically. "I am most definitely not a pathetic, historical example of a patriarchic male."

"Then explain, simply, what's wrong with what we've said," the shorter woman says defiantly.

"Without sidestepping the issue or trying to show off how erudite you are," the tall one adds.

"All right. I'll do just that—explain it simply and honestly, minus any sidestepping or displays of brilliance," Oshima says.

"We're waiting," the tall one says, and the short one gives a compact nod to show she agrees.

"First of all, I'm not a male," Oshima announces.

A dumbfounded silence follows on the part of everybody. I gulp and shoot Oshima a glance.

"I'm a woman," he says.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't joke around," the short woman says, after a pause for breath. Not much confidence, though. It's more like she felt somebody had to say something.

Oshima pulls his wallet out of his chinos, takes out the driver's license, and passes it to the woman. She reads what's written there, frowns, and hands it to her tall companion, who reads it and, after a moment's hesitation, gives it back to Oshima, a sour look on her face.

"Did you want to see it too?" Oshima asks me. When I shake my head, he slips the license back in his wallet and puts the wallet in his pants pocket. He then places both hands on the counter and says, "As you can see, biologically and legally I am undeniably female. Which is why what you've been saying about me is fundamentally wrong. It's simply impossible for me to be, as you put it, a typical sexist, patriarchic male."

"Yes, but—" the tall woman says but then stops. The short one, lips tight, is playing with her collar.

"My body is physically female, but my mind's completely male," Oshima goes on.

"Emotionally I live as a man. So I suppose your notion of being a historical example may be correct. And maybe I am sexist—who knows. But I'm not a lesbian, even though I dress this way. My sexual preference is for men. In other words, I'm a female but I'm gay. I do anal s*x, and have never used my vagina for s*x. My clitoris is sensitive but my breasts aren't. I don't have a period. So, what am I discriminating against? Could somebody tell me?"

The three of us listening are flabbergasted and don't say a word. One of the women clears her throat, and the jarring sound reverberates through the room. The clock on the wall loudly ticks away the seconds.

"I'm very sorry," Oshima says, "but I'm in the middle of lunch. I'm having a tuna-spinach wrap and had eaten half of it when you asked me over. If I leave it much longer the neighborhood cats will make a grab for it. People throw away kittens they don't want in the woods near the sea, so this neighborhood is full of cats. If you don't mind I'd like to get back to my lunch. So excuse me, but please take your time and enjoy the library.

Our library is open to everyone. As long as you follow the rules and don't bother the other patrons, feel free to do whatever you'd like. You can look at whatever you want.

Go ahead and write whatever you like in your report. We won't mind. We don't receive any funding from anywhere and pretty much do things our own way. And that's the way we like it."

-Kafka on the Shore by MuraKAMI page who gives a frick