Who will you be when you are born? That is the question every unsuspecting unborn and unhatched offspring is probably thinking as they curl up in the warmth and seclusion of their yet to be identified mother’s womb.
The UNICEF estimates that an average of 353,000 babies are born each day around the world. That’s a lot of unprotected sex, whatever happened to latex?
Our current world population is approximately 7.2 billion and growing. It passed the 7 billion mark in 2011, and according to statistics, it is expected to reach between 8 to 10 billion by 2050. Just how many of those 8 – 10 billion will end up non-binary disabled feminist transsexual Hilary Clinton fan girls, still remains to be seen.
With such extraordinary numbers, it’s hard to imagine what so many people would actually look like in a grand mass, but who are these people, and what will their stories be? Will it be a predetermined existence, or merely just the luck of the draw that they are either born into a Beverly Hills gated community, or into the ruins of a bombed village in Afghanistan?
Are we all born equal? Are we all afforded the same childhood and upbringing as everybody else, or is it simply a vagina “lucky lottery?”
Does the kind of existence and upbringing you have come down to what vagina your little unassuming head pops out from randomly? If so, picture the scene, cuddled in the warmth of the mother’s womb, the unborn fetus lays peacefully, idly in the safe haven of love, protected from the enduring hurt and danger from the society it will soon become a part of. Totally unaware that when it wakes from its delicate slumber, that they too will become just another statistic in a Buzzfeed Top 10 List article.
But what vagina will the newly born baby appear out of, crying and smudged in blood? As the Doctor snipes away at the umbilical cord, what will life bring to this unassuming child?
Will it elegantly slide out of the vagina of a white middle class woman that comes nicely attached with a loyal and adoring Managing Director daddy, complete with a Lamborghini and a white picketed fence life? You know, everything that money and white privilege can buy.
Or will it drop out of the vagina of a fleeing Romanian migrant torn from war and disaster? Now forced to sleep amongst urine and feces and beg for spare change in her empty rattling tin can in countries like Sweden, whilst being apart of a beggars syndicate?
Will it pop out of the vagina from a chavy 13-year council estate girl in the UK? Puffing away on cigarettes, sat legs apart on the settee while watching re-runs of The Jeremy Kyle Show and snap-chatting her day away.
Will the baby grow into prosperity and surrounded by the luxuries of afternoon tea in South Kensington, or will it be riding stolen mopeds congregating outside Chicken Shops with the local mandem? Could the innocuous fetus awake to the sound of police sirens in a 22-storey block of flats where the sight of gangs, knives and acid attacks being the vision of the only childhood that it will ever truly know?
Or will that fortunate fetus be lucky enough to be raised amongst class and nobility in a picturesque country manner, surrounded by green grass and prosperity, where they are more likely to shop at Waitrose than Morrisons?
Will it spend its adolescence chasing dreams or dodging bullets? Born as a poor child, and raised by an unemployed mum of three other siblings, whilst the absent drug fuelled and alcoholic father dodges responsibility and is nowhere to be seen?
Or is it to be brought up amongst classy nobility and lavished with expensive gifts whilst living on a private plot of beautiful countryside land in a historic manor, where it gains entry into the finest educational establishments and mingling with the likes of Paris Hilton, while travelling the world in first class private jets and venturing into another high-end corporate job overlooking the city?
Would that unassuming fetus want to leave that womb alive or strangle themselves to death with their umbilical cord knowing that they faced a lifetime on minimum wage and flipping burgers? If you had the chance to know what vagina your little head would pop out of, would you continue to hibernate and hope for the best, or slide out that womb and resign yourself to the worst?
Story By Michael Lee
Featured Photo Credit: Hello Magazine