Plan

B! Plan B! Plan B!

Though, am I really helping destigmatize the $50 levonorgestrel morning-after pill when I beg the little monster to stop chewing on my clothes?

When I exclaim in frustration as a loving pet owner that gets awoken by a 2-pound fluffball knocking over a Jenga tower of textbooks?

Is the only time that my Plan B! counts when it is in the presence of other people?

No, I do not think so. Isn’t there the saying “progress starts with oneself?”

Plan B. One of the few undo buttons in life. Taken within 72 hours of penetrative sex, the pill stops the release of eggs and the attachment of a fertilized egg to the uterine lining. When used correctly, Plan B prevents pregnancies before they happen-no fetus terminated here.

I guess that’s also why Plan B’s name makes sense. Her previous caretaker told me how she chomped off a male bunny’s tail when he tried to hump her. I was told that “she was ferocious.” I remember being skeptical of that ‘fact.’ The little snowball in my arms did not seem capable of fighting, much less, biting a tail off.

Then again, I could also apply that image to humans, and in particular women. How many times has history tried to corner people with uteri into altering their personalities to be submissive and breedable?

Susan B. Anthony; Elizabeth Candy Stanton; Norma McCorvey; Patsy Takemoto Mink;

Were these women not a part of the conforming society? Didn’t they fit into the conventional standards of womanhood to some extent? Submissive. Inferior (technically).

Plan B the bunny. Also submissive and breedable (technically). Chomp. Ah yes, there goes my ankle. Lovely.

Is that how American politicians view feminists? A nibble on the stout leg that is patriarchy?

Chomp, Chomp.

Ah, but it is an annoying, constant nibble. For as long as the patriarchy has stood, feminism has responded, widdling down the tall, incessant white, male ankle. As the famous saying goes, “well-behaved women seldom make history.”

Plan B is not a magical animal. She cannot fly (nor really hop, if I am being honest, she just kind of scooches her butt along the tiled floor). She does not sprinkle magical pixie dust that can solve world peace or any of my homework issues. She is also probably not the best allegory to the millions of feminists that have fought for rights over the centuries. And yet, by some miraculous choice of despair, hope, and humor, Plan B is that allegory. She is a reminder of the feminist past, present, and future. Her name strikes discomfort in the daunting wall of toxic masculinity and societally acceptable language. Her nibbling is an (annoying, but loving) reminder of how change is achieved through constant rebuttal. If I want to have a grade change, I need to ask for it first. If I want to fight against the trigger bans, I have to go to the state capital building or send a letter about it.

Whittling it down, one chomp at a time.