Little Red Riding Hood

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We are all familiar with the tale of Little Red Riding Hood—how she set out to visit her grandmother, carrying a basket of goodies and got waylaid by the big, bad Wolf who pretended to be Grandma and gobbled her up.

We know the beginning and the end but not the middle. What happened to the Wolf after Little Red Riding Hood encountered him on her way to Grandma’s house? Where did the Wolf go? What did he do? He didn’t have long to hatch his plan. And what a devious plan it was! He would pretend to a woman, an adult human female. For this he would need a disguise. All this as part of his plan to gobble up Granny, eat all the goodies and then gobble up Little Red Riding too!

His first step was to go to the Registry of Birth and Deaths. If he was going to pretend to be Grandma, perhaps he should self-id as a woman.

“But you can’t do that,” said the lady in the Registry Office. “You can’t just claim to be something you’re not.”

“Why not?” asked the Wolf.

“Because that would be deceitful,” replied the Registrar.

“But I feel like a woman today,” countered the Wolf.

“That may be so,” said the Registrar, “but a woman is more than an identity. Women have rights.”

“But my rights matter more,” said the Wolf. “Don’t you want to be inclusive?”

“Well, yes of course I do,” agreed the Registrar.

“Then surely I shouldn’t have to fill out forms and make legal requests,” said the Wolf. “Surely if I say I’m a woman, I am a woman.”

“Well,” said the Registrar. “I suppose that sounds perfectly reasonable. What else can I help you with?”

“It’s my appearance,” said the Wolf. “I need help with my appearance.”

“But you look delightful,” said the Registrar. “Those big ears, that huge nose, that enormous mouth, you’re gorgeous!”

“Well, I know that,” said the Wolf, “but maybe a twelve year old girl wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Who said anything about twelve-year-old girls?” queried the Registrar.

“I just like to spend time with fellow ‘girls’ is all,” explained the Wolf “and look like them too.”

The Registrar giggled, tickled the Wolf under the chin and wished him luck with his new identity.

The Wolf’s next stop was to a plastic surgeon whose business was thriving.

“I need a full face makeover,” said the Wolf.  

“Of course,” said the plastic surgeon turning away for a moment from his client and throwing a couple of large ears in an overflowing waste bin. “Just wait there a sec and I’ll be right with you. You have insurance, right?”

The Wolf watched while the surgeon shaved off the edges of a large nose and plumped up the client’s lips with silicone.

“There you are, Madam,” the doctor said. “I now declare you to be female. Don’t forget to buy your lipstick on the way out. On special offer this week.”

Then the surgeon said to the wolf, “Come this way, settle into this chair. And what can I do for you?”

“I want to be female too,” said the wolf.

“You mean you want hormones?” said the surgeon.

“Good God no! I’m fine just as I am. I like being big and strong. I just want to look like a woman,” said the wolf.

“But why do you want to look like a woman?” asked the surgeon.

“So I can access their spaces,” said the wolf. “I want to follow them into the toilets and into the changing rooms. I want to be in their private spaces and leave them no option to protest about it.”

“Aha!” exclaimed the surgeon, “then, if it’s not hormones, it had better be surgery.”

So the wolf had his nose trimmed and his ears shortened. He had his whiskers shaved off and he ate chalk to make his voice squeaky. But he made sure the surgeon didn’t remove any body parts. And then he set off to Grandma’s cottage where he gobbled her up, put on her nightdress and her night cap, got into her bed and awaited the arrival of Little Red Riding Hood who thought Grandma looked the picture of femininity.

Little Red Riding Hood docilely handed over the basket of goodies. The Wolf devoured them and then, licking his lips, he declared, “I’ve saved the best for last! It’s your turn now, Little Red Riding Hood!” and he leaped out of bed and grabbed her. But Little Red Riding Hood had been practicing jujitsu. She fought back, got the wolf into a strangle hold and phoned her father, the woodcutter.

When the woodcutter arrived, he said, “Thank goodness you are all right, Little Red Riding Hood! These wolves are becoming a menace. People seem to think they have the same rights as your grandmother.” Then he cut the wolf open and out popped Grandma.

“What can we do about this? How can we protect other girls?” asked Little Red Riding Hood.

“We start by getting people to see the truth.” said the woodcutter. “We need to start with speaking out, to explain that wolves are not grandmothers.”

“What we need,” said Grandma, pulling some wolf hairs out of her mouth, “is consciousness raising. Just like in the old days. Before it was banned. We need to understand what is going on.”

“Then we’ll need women’s groups,” said Little Red Riding Hood.

“Yes,” said Grandma, “like in the old days. Before they were banned.”

“We’ll call our gatherings, ‘Let Women Speak,” said Little Red Riding Hood.