Vaginoplasty qua Eschatology

I anticipate bottom surgery to be my eschatological moment.

I’m currently at the beginning of the end of my apocalypse (I recently got my surgery date finally scheduled), awaiting the imminent arrival of that messianic world-to-come, which promises to finally put an end to the one single catastrophe, which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage, that is my personal history up to this coming moment. It is a history of struggle to the death with myself, a master-slave dialectic within the same self-consciousness, born out of ignorance of and alienation from the original paradise of my pristine, unborn nature, before I was stamped with name-and-form, before I fell from grace, before I forgot who I was and before I could even have a chance to remember.

But through this long and arduous process I’ve learned that it is in my nature — regardless of whatever my mind wanted to think at any given time — to inevitably and inexorably re/turn to my original condition, even if this could only come about through repetition with a difference (I cannot unstamp myself, but I can restamp myself in the name and form of freedom). I am not a being, fixed and immutable, nor am I simply becoming, constantly and always in flux; my very being is becoming, driven towards self-realization. I was always-already propelling myself back to myself from the very beginning, because how could you ever find yourself if you never lost yourself first?

My choice of bottom surgery is zero-depth vaginoplasty, or technically just vulvaplasty. This would be a material embodiment, or a semiotic enfleshment, of an absolute indifference to the phallic signifier (and therefore an inclusive-transcendence of the master-slave dialectic). Neither one nor not-one, the zero-depth neo-pussy marks an empty but open autonomous space that is not categorically opposed to the phallic function yet remains incapable of submitting to it. The neo-clit is hypothetically more intensive in experience than the penis it’s reconstructed from because it is a contraction of the same amount of nerves into a smaller space, and without its vaginal counterpart it remains that much further removed from any determination by the phallic function; it can stand proud on its own, and cannot be compared to the phallus in terms of identity, analogy, resemblance or opposition because it is whole in itself without it.

It is the absolute indifference of the zero-depth neo-pussy to the phallic function that renders it conceptually incomprehensible and physically impenetrable to the order of phallocratic desire. It is this reason that the world-historical emergence of the zero-depth neo-pussy signals the beginning of the end of phallocratic power. It is this reason that bottom surgery will be my eschatological moment. But while it might be the end of history, it will not be the end of me. Though the contradictions of my history will be resolved, her story won’t be without its own problems, but it will, for the very first time, be a continuous and uninterrupted journey of coming to be at complete ease: the essence of the feminine as true freedom.

Clitoridian Woman is the riddle of my history solved, and she knows herself to be this solution.