Martha Jetis parades the pains of modern women in this comedic satire laced with mythological references and nauseating stats
Author’s note:
This is a loving parody of Margaret Atwood’s hilarious satire Siren. Newest members to the gang of monsters are women with endometriosis; the gorgons of today! Long may we reign.
Endometriosis is a chronic (and common!) female reproductive disease.
All facts and stats are taken from How to Endo by Bridget Hustwaite.
Excuse me! Settle down everyone. Oh, hello Medusa, nice to see you back. Loving the snakes. They’re shedding again? Ugh, so annoying. Have you tried rosemary oil, it’s all over TikTok — yes, I know! You should give it a whirl; I’ve heard it works wonders for venom strengthening.
Alright, can I have some quiet? There’s time to catch up after. Sirens, please stop singing. This isn’t the choir. And the Fury up by the ceiling — Lila, yes, can you come down please? I’m very aware you can fly, but I’d like us all seated calmly.
Thank you. Mind your wings on the fan.
Oh, a new face! Lovely of you to join. You’re a single mother with no intention of marrying? That can freak them out, I get it. Welcome! Did you fill out a newcomer’s form? No? Don’t apologise, that’s Bimbo’s fault. She’s in charge of all that admin-y stuff, but she’s often absent, you know, busy running the United Kingdom so that Starmer guy can put his feet up.
Here, let me get you a form. Can I just confirm you’ve received at least one comment about your emotional state in the past week? You have? Brilliant, that’s a requirement, you see. Just leave the form here when you’re done, thank you.
What is the purpose of this meeting, you ask? Well, we’re all here because we’re Hysterical in some way. It’s lots of fun! We bake sometimes, Skylla has a great recipe for sailor-cakes, and there are movie nights, too.
That reminds me. Everyone! Remember to vote on the movie for our next meeting. The choices are The Devil Has a Uterus and Planet of the Women. There’s a poll in our group chat.
Before I forget, this group is for female-identifiers only. Any men here? Oh, you’re in the wrong room, doll, golfers meet out on the green. What’s that? Speak up, please, I can’t hear you when you mumble.
You’d like to stay? Well, we’re all for inclusion here.
Let me see, can you parallel park? You can’t? Splendid, you might be a perfect fit. One more question, when was the last time you cried? Two weeks ago? Ahhh, so close, cutie pie, we were looking for this morning. This morning, yes. Sorry, but we’ve got to maintain certain standards. You’ll love golfing, though, it’s got balls and sticks and everything.
On the green, yes, that’s right. Downstairs and to the left. I know, sorry, that was a bit complicated. Lila, could you show him please?
Sweetie! Don’t be upset, we think this club might be a bit much for you emotionally, that’s all. Yes, the door opens outwards, just give it a little push. You’re doing such a good job! I know, I know, it gets a bit stiff in the winter. Oh, don’t cry, it could happen to anyone. Come on, dry those tears. Can we get a smile? There we are! That wasn’t so hard, was it!
Lila, give him a hand with the door, where are your manners? Take your wing off his back, he can step over the threshold perfectly well by himself.
Right, now that all those present have the Hysteria-gene or chronic Hysterical tendencies, we can begin. Don’t worry, Lila has been here for years, we can start without her.
I hope we’ve all had a great month of complaining and making hysterical demands! No, no, Congress Woman, it’s far too early for dinner yet, put your fangs away please. The men are still marinating, the oven’s just warming up. There’ll be time to eat later.
What’s that Scylla? Why am I adjudicating? I don’t look as Hysterical as you? Um, I can assure you I’m very Hysterical. Don’t flick your tongues at me, just because I don’t have snakes for heads. I don’t care for your tone, please stop hissing at me like that.
I promise I’m well-deserving of Supreme Hysteric. I have bits of dead tissue floating around inside me, you know. Are you bleeding internally and still up and running about in heels? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
Besides, I’m a well-known Hysteric. I take my profession very seriously. I have a PhD in Hysterics, and — be quiet, Feminine Rage, I’m still talking — I wrote How to Hysteria, and co-authored Hysteria for Dummies, along with Dame PCOS.
Oh, thank you, Unmarried Middle-Aged Lady! I’m so glad you enjoyed. Yes, we were shocked at its popularity. We felt that Hysterics was a dying art, and girls everywhere needed to be reminded how to correctly do Hysterics. I know! I believe The New York Times called it “bloody fantastic,” and Madam Harris said it was “dripping with emotion.” She’s usually here, of course, but she’s got a lot going on at the moment. She sent along these roses, though! They’re watered with senators’ tears, that’s how they get that lovely scent.
Lila! You’re back, that took a while. Oh, he needed some reassurance? I understand, please take a seat.
Okay! Everyone! Can we have quiet? I will now read from our manifesto. Please raise your right hands, fins, wings, claws, tentacles, tails — no, not you, Lamia, you have two hands. No one likes a show-off.
I swear to be over-emotional, to always complain, and to cry at least four times a day. I dedicate myself wholeheartedly to Hysteria, now and forever.
Hysteria be with you.
All: and also with you.
Alright, I’d like to start with a game! Blink if you’ve heard of “asthma”. Medusa, I love the enthusiasm. Uh-huh! I thought so. About one in ten people are diagnosed with asthma, it’s considered a pretty serious condition. How serious, you ask, Lilith? Well, $14.7 million was recently spent on asthma research. No, you’re right, asthma doesn’t impact the entire population, but it’s still very important. Ah, I see an inhaler being waved around — oh, Ekhidna! Yes, there we go, I knew there’d be someone.
Back to our game! Can anyone name another chronic condition that affects one in ten? I’ll give you a clue: you’re looking right at her. What’s that, Redhead? Endometriosis, that’s right! This also affects one in ten — but unlike asthma, it’s a (cis) female-only problem, so our dear government doesn’t care so much. You’d like a comparison? Of course, well, only $837,433 was donated to endo research. That sounds like a lot? Let me do the maths for you. 14.7 million minus 837 thousand is 13.8 million more. Not sounding like so much now, is it?
But we’re plenty used to all that. We women are known for complaining about pain, we’ve got it down to a fine art! Why can’t we just suck it up like those Big Strong Men? Thank you, sirens, that’s enough of that, keep those gestures to yourselves, please.
Why, a phenomenal surgeon by the name of Isaac Baker Blahhh — sorry, that was Brown, I’d lost interest by the third word — gorgons! Hush now, that’s really quite rude. He had feelings, too, you know.
Now, Isaac Deglazer Brown came to the groundbreaking epiphany that oh! There was a sure-fire way to cure all those crazy women. Aren’t we lucky? For women with clinical hysteria — no Redhead, that’s not us! Ours is a different type of Hysteria — yes clinical hysteria, insanity and epilepsy, he magicked away their problems by a swift clitoridectomy.
That’s right, Lila. Their problem, he decreed, was female anatomy. Best remove it, don’t you reckon? Wasn’t he brilliant? Oh, pass Feminine Rage a box of tissues please. Thanks Redhead.
Now it’s the bright year of 2024, the year where the few rights us women have over our bodies — in privileged countries, may I hasten to add — although in America women in most states have lost their right to abort, so who knows anymore — are on the threat of being revoked! Thank you, Mister Golf-man. We’ve come so far!
Let’s watch a short video to see just how much better things are now. This is an example of one way a woman can officially join us Hysterics. Can I have some help setting the projector up? No, Skylla, you’re wonderful, but I need someone with fingers; the touchscreen won’t respond to scales. I know, I know, it’s monsterist. We’ll sue, don’t worry.
Thanks Childless Cat-Lovin’ Lady, that’s great. The sound’s not working? Oh dear, I’m rubbish at technology, does anyone else know? Loch Ness! You darling.
Okay everyone! We’re up and running. Quiet please — Medusa, can’t you do something about those snakes of yours? Give them some dummies to suck on, it’s very tricky to hear over all that hissing.
The Life of a Woman in Pain Who Complains
A doctor’s office. Woman in her twenties sits patiently; doctor in mid-forties taps away at a keyboard. He hasn’t looked at her. He’s thinking about the football results.
DOCTOR WALTER WALLACE WILLIAM., Son of a Barrister + someone., MS., ME34P., IE3., PhD., PhD., PhD., Mostly-loving, Occasionally-cheating Husband., Bumblebee Enthusiast., Would-be Football Star
(not looking up)
How are you today?
WOMAN
Well, alright thanks.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star
Excellent! And what can I help with?
WOMAN
I came to see you last year. About menstrual pain?
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star gives no acknowledgement.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Well, anyway, you instructed me to return if it continued or worsened.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star
(heaving a sigh, finally turning to face her; fingers steepled, smirking a
little)
Still troubling you, huh dear?
WOMAN
Yes. The pain is a lot worse, but I’ve been dealing with it. I wouldn’t have come, only I’ve fainted the past couple times, so I thought I’d better check it out.
Silence reigns in the office. Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star scratches his chin in thought.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star
Hmmmm. You’re blacking out you say? Well, that’s not good, is it!
And out comes the holy trinity.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star (CONT’D)
Ah! Have you tried …. dieting, by any chance dear?
(He eyes her normal 12-14 waist as she nods.)
You have?
(clearing his throat)—
Doesn’t look like it. Hmm? Oh, I said I can see that! Yes, har har har. Oooookayyyy… and let me see, you’ve tried … a diet?
(WOMAN frowns in confusion. He realises he’s already suggested this.)
(hurriedly)
Ah!
(Light bulbs galore. He smiles reassuringly.)
I have it. I’ll give you a prescription for the Pill.
WOMAN
(shifting, beginning to frown)
I don’t—
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star (CONT’D)
(busy writing)
This is the stuff, dear. Cough up one-hundred dollars every few months and — eh? What was that?
WOMAN has started speaking; Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star speaks louder.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star (CONT’D)
The side effects? Oh, no, don’t worry about those. Har har, what carcinogens! Carcinogens smarcinogens, I say! Ah, the nausea? Depression? Weight gain? Well, that’s what the diet’s for! What’s that?
He leans forward to hear, tapping his ear. WOMAN repeats herself for a third time.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star (CONT’D)
The blood clots? That’s nothing, nothing at all. Hmm? Wasn’t AstraZeneca withdrawn for that exact reason? Well, yes, technically—
(waving a hand in dismissal)
But don’t worry. That’s all complicated medical hoo-ha. No-no, dear, that’s enough questions, you’ll have to pay another two-hundred if you’d like an extra fifteen minutes. Toodaloo!
video pauses.
Sorry everyone! We’re just going to skip ahead a bit. There’s a lot of back and forth. Lilith, could you put it on double speed, please? Thanks.
video resumes.
NARRATOR
WOMAN is still suffering. Nothing has worked; not the Pill or the diets or the pain killers or the acupuncture or the therapy or the yoga or the teas or the first laparoscopy or the second laparoscopy — or the Xanax, because WOMAN now also suffers from depression from the thousands of dollars she has spent on all those Successful Solutions™.
WOMAN returns to the doctor.
NARRATOR (CONT’D)
He pulls out the Golden Suggestion! The little nod to Mister Sautéer Brown.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star places a comforting hand on WOMAN’S shoulder. WOMAN looks resigned.
NARRATOR (CONT’D)
And, over one-hundred-and-fifty years later we’ve progressed from a clitoridectomy to… drum roll please! A hysterectomy! Yes, ladies and ladies, they remove the uterus. They put it in a bag labelled “biohazard,” dust off their hands and congratulate themselves on another great day.
WOMAN is still in pain. Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star is dumbfounded.
Dr. WWWSoB., MD(3)., PhD(3)., ML-OC Husband., BE., Football Star
(outraged)
What? I don’t understand. We removed your …
(The dreaded U-word. He can’t utter it. He compensates with a grimace.)
But that’s the source of all your problems! You can’t possibly be feeling anything, you must be imagining things. It’s outrageous you even suggest it. May I refer you to a psychiatrist?
Scribbling: WOMAN presents with Hysteria and Hysterical tendencies.)
screen fades to black.
Can we have the lights, please? Thanks Feminine Rage! Well, I hope you all enjoyed that. Sirens? What are you all giggling about? The way he spiralled though? Oh, come on, we’ve been over this. Enough is enough.
Alright, I think that concludes today’s meeting, refreshments are on the table at the back. Sure, Childless Cat-Lovin’ Lady, you can be in charge of music, but if you play Love the Way You Cry again, you’re banned. Oh, and can someone help me bring the trays from the oven?
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