The Bechdel test measures women-centered narratives. To pass the Bechdel test, a work must feature two women who talk to each other about something other than men. These narrators try with little success. I think a crucial part of being a member of Generation F is centering the experiences of women.
Test #1: Betta Fish
My b——— kept a betta fish in a huge glass tank. It swam in brisk, uninterrupted circles that my knocking did not disturb. It ignored me, much the same way that D——— ignored me in science class, even though I sat directly in his line of sight. And yet I could not imagine being angry at D. It wasn’t that he was ignoring me: It was that he could not yet see me.
Back at home, I dug out a compact mirror from my mother’s purse. It was marbled purple and gold. The mirror was dusty with powder, but I could still see my own face through the stipple. I turned it toward the tank. The betta swam by once, unbothered. I flicked the mirror back and forth until I caught its attention. It hesitated, taking in the new interloper on the other side of the tank. Then it charged. Again and again, it hurled itself at the glass. The interloper responded in kind. Mesmerized, I watched until the sound of the doorbell startled me out of my reverie. The compact fell from my hand into the tank. The betta went belly up a few hours later.
My mother fished them both out that evening and replaced the betta before my b——— got home from his overnight game. The new betta fish swam in a languid, confused circle. Poor thing: trapped in a tank, not knowing a single thing about girls.
Test #2: Lipstick Theory
We are reading the labels and deciding who to be tonight. A dusky English Rose. A lurid Tropical Sherbet. A slash of red in Sultry Siren. Or one, dark purple, simply titled Mistress.
Test #3: Last Night
I dreamt of a gate tied shut with two pink ribbons.
I dreamt of a world without men.