A Totally Unhistorical Allegory I Thought of While Riding the Train Sometime in Mid-October 2009

Imagine you're a serf living in medieval England. And there you are, toiling away on your land, trying to scratch enough out of the Earth to survive, knowing that you'll still need to save some for the dreadful winter.

I should say, though, that it's not actually your land. You don't own it. The local aristocrat--Lord Alex--owns the land, and you just farm it for him in exchange for the protection granted by the knights sworn into his service. Protection from whom or what? From other Lords and knights, of course, but that's beside the point.

And you live a pretty predictable existence. You wake up in the morning, get fucked all day by the elements, and probably die before you're 40. Things like this progress for generations. Your children and your childrens' children can be reasonably expected to carry on this mode of existence as far into the future as you can imagine.

Here's another way of telling that same story:

Imagine you're a female serf living in medieval England. And there you are, toiling away on your land, trying to scratch enough out of the Earth to survive, living as a second-class citizen.

I should say, though, that it's not actually your land. You don't own it. The local aristocrat--Lord Alex--owns the land, and you just farm it for him in exchange for the protection granted by the knights sworn into his service.

And you live a pretty predictable existence. You spend the first 12 years of your life as a servant in your own household, knowing that your most valuable possession is your hymen. You're seen as half a person, and an economic burden on your family who will eventually have to pay someone to marry you and take you away. Things like this progress for generations. Your children and your childrens' children can be reasonably expected to carry on this mode of existence as far into the future as you can imagine.

Here's another way of telling that same story:

Imagine you're a peasant living in 16th century England. And there you are, toiling away on your land, trying to scratch enough out of the Earth to survive, knowing that you'll still need to save some for the dreadful winter.

I should say, though, that it's not actually your land. You don't own it. The local aristocrat--Lord Alex--owns the land, and you just farm it for him in exchange for the protection granted by the knights sworn into his service. But an interesting development has occurred during your lifetime, something generations of your ancestors could never have predicted. Lord Alex has died unexpectedly without leaving a male heir to carry on ownership of the land under your feet. But his wife--Lady Alex--has proven herself to be a strong leader and manages to assert her claim over his property.

But you go on to live a pretty predictable existence. You wake up in the morning, get fucked all day by the elements, and probably die before you're 45. Over your lifetime you hear rumors of some interesting changes going on in the aristocratic courts. Women and Moors and Jews are staking their claims for property rights, which is almost unheard of in the history of England. You die anyway.

Here's another (final) way of telling that same story:

Imagine you're a working-class person living in 21st century America. And there you are, toiling away in Wal-Mart, trying to scratch enough out of your labor to survive, knowing that you'll still need to save some to contribute to your kid's social mobility.

I should say, though, that it's not actually your Wal-Mart. You don't own it. A conglomerate of stock-holders own the Wal-Mart, and you just trade your labor in exchange for a pay-check. But an interesting thing has happened on the way to work this morning: they elected a black guy to become the President of the United States!!! Now that you think about it, there are all kinds of black guys and women and Jews and homosexuals and disabled persons on the boards of these companies that you've worked for over the course of your lifetime. Quite a change from the way it used to be, when only white guys got to call the shots.

And you live a pretty predictable existence. You wake up in the morning, get fucked all day by the customers, and probably die before you're 80. Things like this progress for generations, but this time--ahh, this time!--they'll progress in a different way. Your children and your childrens' children can be reasonably expected to carry on this mode of existence as far into the future as you can imagine, but the people who once called themselves Lord Alex could now be imagined to call themselves Lady Alex. Or Lady Alexstein. Or Lord Alex-Kennedy. Or Lord JaAlex. And even though the number of people who call themselves Lord or Lady never increases, at least something is different, and that at least is progress.

The point, which is about as blunt as I can imagine, is that it doesn't matter in the least if it's a Lord or a Lady that owns the land you work on. The problem isn't that the aristocrats have the wrong thing between their legs, the problem is that there are fucking aristocrats in the first place. The system of legitimation which enshrines the aristocrats as Lords and Ladies of the Earth is no different if the individuals which make up its face are male or female, blonde or blue eyed, 8th century bodies or 21st century bodies. In fact, it seems as though capitalism has gotten smart enough to incorporate a diverse body of agents into its ranks. All the better! Why bother discriminating against a minority if they can perform the same function as a white man (better, even)?

I thought about that on the train, and then I had to get off.