IWMD

That’s International Women of Mass Destruction.

Because here’s what I reckon: if George W. Bush can stake his claim, on International Women’s Day, that he is bringing feminist freedom to the women of Iraq, it’s time to leave.

Yes, you heard me rightly. Pack your DVD of Thelma & Louise (Born in Flames/The Girls’ Club/Bandit Queen), your hiking boots and all the loose change under your sofa. We’re getting the hell out of here.

Here’s my rationale... At the beginning of the third book of Suzette Hayden Elgin’s Native Tongue trilogy, all of the cetaceans leave Earth. They hitch a ride with the alien civilisations that have been trying to trade with the crass, stupid Earthlings (who enslave women to act as translators). So long, as Douglas Adams said, and thanks for all the fish. Throughout the third book, the women translators — who join forces with indigenous groups — use their linguistic skills to communicate with the aliens and follow the sleek ones off-planet.

Sounds good, eh? It’s like the Lysistrata, except without all the plucking and preening.

Angelina would leave. So would E. Annie Proulx. bell hooks would leave, although (like me and many others) she would feel bad about not staying to fight.

But really, the fight is getting nowhere. Elections no longer matter as machines vote for us, whether automated vote-casters or the media that distorts our knowledge of politics. The right believes that the media is in the hands of the liberal left, while the liberal left knows damn well that the media is in the pocket of the right. It’s like the 1950s — but without the sense of economic well-being and posterity-righteousness that swelled American hearts and egos after WWII.

So why take it when we could take off?

Imagine the world without us (the 51% female us, plus our kids, plus allies). It wouldn’t last very long, given the lack of men willing to carry a foetus to full-term. Sure, some women would stick around — Loreen Harper probably (although I think Laura Bush has had enough) and all those women who run anti-abortion "counselling" services. Maybe the occasional teen for Jesus, and attention-lovers like Jessica Simpson.

I’m not saying that wherever we go would be perfect, or absolutely peaceful, or without racism and catfights and disasters. But it would sure as hell make a point. Who knows? A little time out on the Y chromosome might chill their need to strut for status. It might give women the time and space they need to organise...

On second thoughts, what we need to do is get them off-planet, or at least deeply distracted — then start our engines. I reckon the finals of the World Cup in Johannesburg in 2008 might be just the moment we need.

Then boom. Happy IWMD.

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