After America - Mark Steyn [114]
A woman in Bend, Oregon, can choose to become a man, and then a “pregnant man.”44
A man can choose to become a woman, get halfway there, and then decide it’s more fun to “live in the grey area,” like “award-winning Canadian writer” Ivan E. Coyote, who prefers to be addressed as he/she and self-identifies as a “very masculine reading estrogen-based organism,” and resents the way the hicks at U.S. Customs and Border Protection don’t have a check box for that.45 In 2009 Mr./Ms. Coyote was detained by CBP along with an American friend, “a tall, feminine woman with a heavy moustache.”
Biologically, Barrie or Tony, but not both, is the sole father of their child; the “pregnant man” is pregnant but not a man; the he/she living in “the grey area” is in reality black or white—at least according to what we used to call “the facts of life.” But issuers of passports, drivers’ licenses, and birth certificates increasingly defer to the principle of “self-identification.”
In terms of sexual identity, we’re freer than almost any society in human history, at least in terms of official validation of our choice to “redefine” ourselves in defiance of biological and physiological reality. But sexual liberty has provided the cover for a sustained assault on individual liberty in every other sphere—in speech rights, in property rights, we are less free than our parents, and getting more constrained every day. Big Government seems to understand that if you let your subjects shag anything that moves and a lot that doesn’t they’ll mistake their shackles for a complimentary session at the bondage dungeon. Give me liberty or give me sex! Live free or bi-! In an age of suffocating statism, sexual license is the only thing you don’t need a license for.
As for the sex, for niche identities and boutique demographics like Mr./ Ms. Coyote and Oregon’s pregnant man, things seem to be working out swimmingly. But, among the masses, it’s harder to avoid the sheer mountain of human debris being piled up. The story of the last forty years is the mainstreaming of rock-star morality: instant gratification, do your own thing, whatever’s your bag. Jodie Foster and her turkey baster are rich enough to weather any unintended consequences of their fling, but the evidence suggests that, for the general populace, defining celebrity down is more problematic. “Oops! I Did It Again” is easy for Britney to say. Less so for Kaylee at the hair salon.
The new school soldiers on, arguing that chastity, fidelity, monogamy, etc., are mere social constructs: we’ve been indoctrinated into them by repressed cultural hierarchies. Sexual promiscuity is part of our nature: you should be getting it on with that hot chick at Number 27. And her husband. And get your wife in to video it. Screwing whatever you want whenever you want in whatever combination you want is as natural as wearing a mammoth pelt and sitting round the cave rubbing two sticks together. Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá wrote a rather laborious book on the subject, Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality, that demonstrates by frequent recourse to biology, anthropology, ethnography, and primatology that the idea of lifelong heterosexual marriage is a crock imposed on the world by party poopers.46 Your hunter-gatherer was the king of the swingers, the jungle VIP.
At this point in the argument, it’s customary to bring up bonobos. No, not the bloke from U2. He loves Africa, too, but not in that way. The bonobo is some kind of chimp that lives south of the Congo River, and is apparently the closest extant relative to humans. And, like us, he’s a bi-guy who can’t get enough casual sex. So, if he’s hip to it, why have we got so many hang-ups?
That’s easy, say the anthropologists: agriculture. Man stopped hunting and gathering and started farming. Bummer, man: families, monogamy, way less action. How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paris Hilton? Agriculture was not merely an ecological “catastrophe