I wasn’t born a woman, I cannot bear a child, I cannot carry a fetus nine months I cannot feel the morning sickness, I cannot nurse a child once born, I cannot cease to be who I am because I had a child, I cannot be raped and made pregnant, I cannot be subject incest making me pregnant, I cannot go through the pains of labor, I cannot have an emergency c-section, But as a man I can sit in judgment on women I can try and control their bodies, I can try and eliminate their choices, I can do all of those things but I refuse for I was born of a woman, and I honor her right to choose what is best for her as I reserve the right to choose what is best for me.
When he says he thinks that it is rather queer, you wonder if he uses queer as a non-gendered pronoun, and if so you think he might just be right.
But what if he is a verbal luddite, locked in an archaic lexicon, unable to deal with an ever more complex social and sexual world where what was is, and what never was is, and who is what is what is in flux.
If he were to appear here suddenly I suspect Shakespeare would be running a small theater group in Brooklyn catering to an audience drawn mostly from the LGBTQ community, alternating productions of gays and lesbians with Trans and gender fluid having free choice to reflect their true selves and not in the roles genetics cast them.
If you asked him why, he’d say that it was all Elizabeth’s fault, her rule all roles were to be played by male actors, no Joseph Fiennes to set the old girl straight, a Puckish way of putting it he’d admit, and is it any wonder that a damned Scot took the throne on her death, he would add as a bellicose Falstaff, she was a shilling short of a pound.