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Lately, I find myself feeling a sort of kinship with the brahminy blind snake.
If you were to see one of these snakes in the wild, I would not fault you for mistaking it for a large worm. Through the wonders of convergent evolution, these two creatures from vastly different branches of the Earth's family tree, living in the same environment, have become very similar to one another.
The brahminy blind snake ranges in color from black to a sort of brownish-pink; it can be differentiated from an earthworm by the presence of scales, and two tiny black dots on its head- the final remains of its eyes, now useful only for detecting enough light to know if the snake is above or below ground. If the snake finds itself in a bright place, it realizes it is not where it should be, and quickly seeks to return to where it belongs, within the Earth's outermost layer.
But perhaps the most incredible thing about the brahminy blind snake is its ability to perform parthenogenesis- impregnating itself without the need of another.
This species also goes by the name of flowerpot snake, due to the fact that they can often be found burrowed inside of flowerpots and gardens. This, alongside parthenogenesis, has allowed the brahminy blind snake to establish a population on every continent except Antarctica- when humans are transporting soil and plants, only a single snake needs to hitch a ride. When it arrives, it impregnates itself and lays eggs containing the next generation.
With no need for a mate and no parental instinct, the brahminy blind snake could very well live its entire life alone, underground. The snake doesn't feel lonely, of course, because it is not a social species like we humans are. But beyond that, the snake lacks the need to desire even a single other member of the same species with which to reproduce, a trait not shared by any other known species of snake.
In this way, the snake and I are similar.
I imagine the brahminy blind snake attending little reptile brunches and dinner parties, the conversation floating between the tastiest rodents and the nicest basking spots. And perhaps its currently spring, and talk drifts to the task at hand, that being creating the next generation.
Maybe a well-meaning hognose snake turns to the brahminy blind snake and asks, "So, what about you? Do you have your tongue on anyone special this year?" (Snakes, even those whose species name does not contain the word "blind", use their tongues to navigate more than their eyes, so I think their idioms would reflect this.)
And maybe the brahminy blind snakes pretends to think, before saying, "You know, I don't really have anyone in mind right now," and hoping the conversation moves on.
Or maybe the brahminy blind snake is more direct, saying, "The answer's the same as last year, Alexhiss. I'm going to impregnate myself again, with no need for a mate."
And maybe Alexhiss will realize her blunder and awkwardly change the subject. Or maybe she'll try and reassure the brahminy blind snake, "Don't worry, you just have to wait for the right serpent!"
And yet the answer never changes. The brahminy blind snake continues to live alone, and happy.
If you were to research this incredible species, you will read that it is an all-female species, and that no male brahminy blind snakes have ever been found.
I think this is not the full story. Brahminy blind snakes do not reproduce through immaculate conception. They have not rejected masculinity; they have incorporated it into femininity.
Long ago, they, like every other snake species, most likely had two dominant sexes of male and female. Over time, evolution did away with the pesky barriers between sexes, and allowed all to become both female and male all at once.
Now what?
If all of you are the same sex, and none of you have sex, then does sex mean anything at all?
Now, it occurs to me that I never asked the brahminy blind snake what the snake thinks. If I look to the snake and I ask, "Are you female or are you male?" what will the snake say?
Perhaps the snake will say, "I am female because I can become pregnant." Or perhaps the snake will say, "I am male because I can impregnate." Or maybe the snake will say, "What, you're not even gonna say 'hi' first?"
So I ask the snake. And the snake cries out, "I am not where I belong! It's too bright here, I'm meant for the dark and the damp of the subterranean!"
So I put the snake back in the flowerpot. And the flowerpot snake nestles its body deep within the roots of the plant within.
In this way, the snake and I are similar once more.
My body is one which any researcher would refer to as female. But I am the one inhabiting this body, and I think it is so much more. It contains maleness and femaleness alike. It has breasts, and contains a uterus. And yet I instead choose to wear tight fabric over my chest and speak in a voice deeper than what comes naturally (when I am brave enough to try).
And like the snake, I too wish to spend all my time hiding in a safe burrow, deep underground.
This piece was written for a class. The prompt was to "write about an experience for which you have insider information". I chose to write about being nonbinary, transmasculine, and aromantic asexual.
I'm not a biologist and I'm sure there's plenty of perfectly good reasons why brahminy blind snakes are referred to as female instead of something else, but there's a good metaphor to be made either way.