toads and gender: guest post

In November, as I have brought to the attention of everyone I have talked to in the past month, I adopted a toad. I am just pleased as punch about this. She is a lovely toad, though understandably a little skittish. I think she needs a little more living space, and maybe a rock to burrow under and a bit of hollow log to hide in. I am doing my best to help acclimate her to her living space.

One funny thing I have noticed about toad ownership is the way people perceive toad gender. If I refer to a toad as “he,” the conversation continues as normal. If, as in the case of Jhumpa Lahiri (my toad), I refer to the toad as “she,” almost universally the response will be:

“You can tell if it’s male or female?”

Now, I have no idea how to tell the sex of bufo americanus. I bet, if I checked around, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find the answer to this question. For now, and for the foreseeable future, I have no real intention to do so. First of all, I have given this toad a human name. To the best of my knowledge, and even to the best of my conception of the natural world, frogs and toads do not, when left to their own devices, have human names. “She,” to the best of my perception, is not aware she has a human name. I project a personality on my toad. Frogs and toads, and nearly the entirety of life on our planet (and presumably the universe) do not have personalities. Central to this word is its root, “person,” and at the risk of being tautological in order to drive home a point, personality implies personhood. I don’t mean to tear down the idea that animals can have emotion, expression, abstract thought, and even dignity, because I accept that they can, and even assign these to pets I have had and known. But these are not people. Isn’t it arrogant to hold the primacy of human beings so firmly as to assume that our perception of the world is the only one? I love meerkats; I hate the show Meerkat Manor, the one where Sean Astin prattles on and on about how one animal is feeling about missing a meal, or how one is unrequited in her love for another. These are human emotions you are presenting as fact, or worse: as science! At best, I have to imagine the “personalities” we project on the animals around us are imperfect metaphors. So please don’t try to contradict the narrative I have chosen for my toad, because her life is completely unaffected by the social construct of gender.

And speaking of this construct, what is it about frogs and toads that lead people to assume they are male? Questions over gender only arise when the gender presented is female. Yes, the sex of an amphibian would be an interesting discussion I’m sure. But if you were really asking after sex, you would question my assumption of masculinity as well. You’re questioning my gendering of the toad, which you had already determined in your head the other way when you heard the word. I discussed this earlier today with my friends Chris and Sam, and came up with a short list of assumed genders in our society:

dogs: male
cats: female
cars/transportation: female
hurricanes: female (traditionally; this persists even though half of hurricanes now have male names)
fish: male
whales: female (“thar she blows!”)
bears: male
peacocks: female (ironic, since the sex is in its name)
eagles: male
trees: male
flowers: female
oceans: female
mountains: male
anything that could be described as “a beauty:” female
anything that could be described as “ornery:” male

I know I’m missing a bunch here. Hooray for gender roles!