One would think as they grow older that the world would become a bit clearer, that the journey to acquire knowledge would lead you somewhere where clarity was the rule rather the exception.
But I admit, I am growing more confused by the day. We seem to live in an odd world of inclusion, where everyone gets a slice of the pie and no one is left out. You saw the beginnings of this in youth sports, where every kid gets a trophy, medal or certificate, because we don’t want anyone to feel left out.
Now I see that Seattle’s Mayor wants to remove any sense of gender from restroom doors. You know the ones, where men, women or children can use the same restroom. Instead of the usual family symbol, he wants nothing in its place, so we can only wonder what or who is behind Door #1 whenever we must do #2.
He wants to do this so that transgenders can feel good about themselves. I get it. Hey, let’s be sensitive to everyone’s needs and feelings. Let’s all get medals.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for gay marriage and transgenderism. I do think that Caithlyn should have to choose either Mother’s Day or Father’s Day and not get both days. We have to draw the line somewhere.
I for one have been discriminated all my life. The 90% have been foisting their world on me since I was about six, when it became apparent that I was left-handed.
Oh, you know about left-handers – the sinister hand. In Sanskrit, we’re wicked and in Russian, we’re strange. We are also discriminated against in more ways than any right-hander could imagine.
Or perhaps you could. After all, your right-handedness has caused all of our problems. And while the world bends over backwards for transgenders, gays, polyamorous types and whatnot, no one seems concerned that we can’t use a pair of scissors at work or that we continue to injure ourselves trying to open a door the way we think it should open.
It’s all around us, you know, this wonton discrimination. In many cultures, you must eat and drink with the right hand. The left hand is reserved for, now how do I say this politely: the dirty work. And we all know (at least the Christians do) that the right hand of God is the place to be. Heaven help anyone on the left.
Oh, sure, right-handers, go ahead and laugh. You’ve never had to sit in a university seat for right-handers, your elbow hanging in midair for an hour while you take furious notes in a right-handed spiral notebook. You’ve never had to try to figure out how to sharpen a pencil in a wall-mounted sharpener or open a can of vegetables with a right-handed can opener.
Everything is crafted for the righties in this world of inclusion, leaving us out in the cold.
I say it’s time that we become all inclusive. We can start with doors. Let’s make them open in the middle. Put the handle in the middle of all doors and if that can’t be done, let’s just have revolving doors. See, I can compromise.
Windows? No more on these right opening windows. My house has seven right-handed windows and only four hand-agnostic ones. All windows should open up and down, not right to left.
We should also do away with all laced shoes. As a lefty, it was damned near impossible to learn how to tie my shoes. Sure, righties tried left and right to show me how easy it was to do. All to no avail. It wasn’t until my left-handed cousin showed me during recess at Kennydale Elementary School that I learned how to do it. I was in third grade.
Stapled pages are another bone of contention with me. I don’t get the upper left corner thing. It’s discriminatory, requiring me to use my right hand to turn pages, something which is alien to any lefty. We should just do away with staples and go with paper clips, since they can be placed wherever it makes the most sense.
Notebooks are problematic. They are almost all made for right-handers. I have to always flip them over and go “back to front” because the binding gets in the way. Don’t even get e started on ringed notebooks. I have a permanent set of lines on my left hand because of them.
Computer mice used to be a nightmare for me. They were all right handed. I had to give in to this discriminatory act early on, because you couldn’t find one for a lefty back in the early days of computing. Yes, I assimilated, but only under protest.
It is comforting that they got the automobile correct, at least in America. We sit in the left seat of the car, largely because righties wanted to use their dominant hand to shift the manual transmission, remember those? In an age of automatics, a car is a lefty’s dream, at least until we want to change the radio station or fiddle with the AC.
While it would be nice if we could just drive down the middle of the road and be hand agnostic, with none of this drive on the right nonsense, I realize that this can create problems. But I do strenuously object to the discriminatory term, “Right of Way.” Where in the hell are the Left of Ways?
I’m really not trying to be difficult. I used to think this was just the way the world was, majority rules, somewhat unfair to those in the minority. But in our inclusion-crazed country, I think it’s time that we accommodate the lefties in our land. I’m not asking for us to start shaking hands with our lefts or say “Left On” instead of “Right On.” But I would like to have some equality in this world of ours. We deserve a trophy, too. Losers!
In the Emerald City, left behind,
– Robb