I'm seventeen years old.
Sitting in my theology class next to my best friend, the priest at the front of the room announces today we will be talking about the wonders of reproduction
-within marriage, as it always occurs, of course.
When explaining how reproduction happens, the priest breifly summarizes the female anatomy and it's job:
The vagina, where the penis goes in. Then there's the uterus and the ovaries. And, finally - he concludes- the fallopian tubes.
While I pause and wonder if any part of the intimate female anatomy can be defined without including the sacred penis, the dark haired girl sitting in front of me raises her hand high, cocks her head to one side, and asks
"What's a fallopian tube?"
What? I sit and think in my seat. How can she not know? Junior year of high school, with no clue as to parts of her anatomy?
But as I glance around the room, I do not see shared shock in the women's faces at the lack of knowledge this woman has for her own sex,
I see shared confusion and intrigue,
and realize we are taught not to ask to be taught
taught to wash the blood clean out of our underwear with holy water before anyone could notice the definition of our gender.
the priest goes to the board, uncomfortable
he draws a hypnotizing swirl on the board, resembling the hill from The Nightmare Before Christmas, and "that", he explains, "is a fallopian tube."
The theology of the female anatomy
The holy oil of her sweat and tears covered with the anointing of foundation, the holy spirit of her tongue clipped into a short and sweat "amen",
The miracle of the ownership of the fountain of youth, swaying in her very womb,
Simplified into a chalk spiral.
The girls nod in acceptance, turn back to their notebooks, and move on.
I guess it makes sense Tim Burton used the design of the fallopian tubes
for Jack to uncurl and then walk all over.