The End of Men?

What would a world look like if men had to prove their worth?

Photo by Olga Kononenko on Unsplash

I love a good dose of dystopian fiction. I probably quote Margaret Atwood at least once a week. But these days it truly does feel like we’re living in a near future dystopia, particularly when it comes to women’s reproductive rights. For the past couple of years I’ve been noodling on an idea about what would happen to society if something caused all men to be born with what is essentially a vasectomy, rendering males infertile at birth. How would that change power structures, body autonomy and who gets to be a parent? How would it change caregiving and how we view motherhood?

This week I finally put pen to paper in a serious way and wrote my first short story about this world called The Reversal.

It is very much in first draft mode but that feels like the right time to get to share it with this community. A few people have asked me if I plan to submit it to a literary journal or magazine. I would prefer to keep it here for now. Being in a reading, writing and thinking community here with all of you is exactly where I want to be. And if you remember I incubated Everyone is Lying to You on this very platform.

So I am going to be putting previews of The Reversal (the vasectomy short story) right here behind the paywall. If you aren’t a full subscriber and want access get your orders in for Everyone is Lying to You now. It’s a great deal. You get a free one year subscription to this space and the full short story of The Reversal in several installments.

Submit your receipt here.

Here’s a list of purchasing options, but it’s also available at a lot of indie bookstores and you can get signed copies mailed to you here and here.

As always I will be taking all of the feedback. You are all such brilliant readers and thinkers and I count myself so lucky that I get to share these things with you.

Short stories are strange beasts and I am brand new to this. Let’s do it. Together.

THE REVERSAL

by Jo Piazza

The man hovering over the foot of her bed looks a little like her father. So when she wakes up and sees him, she smiles and reaches her arms up for a hug. Daddy always comes in to check on her, no matter how late he gets home from his work trips. It’s one of their things.

When he steps out of the shadows, she sees a stranger.

He puts a finger to his lips to shush her.

She screams anyway.

One sharp, blood-curdling screech before he claps a hand over her mouth. Then comes the cloth—something soaked in a foul smell, like gasoline and overripe bananas. She tries to twist away, but then there's a quick pinch in her thigh, like a shot at the doctor’s office.

And everything goes dark.

He’s perched on the edge of the bed when the mother rushes down the hall, breath ragged, eyes struggling to focus.