Dancing Through Swamps

Mom, did you hear the news about patriarchy today? Yes, dearest son! Or no... I'm not sure. You mean the gender translation problem? Not sure we had a problem, just an honest mistake we might more empathically suppose. Perhaps I am too paranoid, hunting conspiracies and thereby gathering folly, yet reversing ancient scriptured words for ***** and vagina smells hellfire brimstone intentional to me. So much for my plans to become a priest. I am so sorry your lack of a vagina now feels emasculating of your future, my great-loved son. What vocation remains for you to find now you have become the infertile son of a sacred matriarchal Priest? Mom, really? Tell me you're not pursuing ordination again. Why not? We talk about a priest shortage brought on by massive defrocking of priests without the newly requisite vagina. Maybe I could go into religious education. Yet, truth told my head's not in it, nor was that an implied penile reference, teaching all those boys how and why when and where they must now become subservient to the more robust virtues of the more sacred vagina. Maybe you could teach in an all girls school? But, I don't feel like an ecopolitical after-thought, ready to slurp up only mainstream leftovers. This reverse translation issue feels unnatural to me. Well, of course it does, my son, you don't have superior vagina wisdom. Maybe I need a sex change. Maybe we all need some trans-regenerational re-education. If you say so. You're the one for nurturing vagina dialogues.