a bonobo humanity?

So there seems to be a lot of noise about gender issues these days, and it has been a topic of much interest to me from pre-pubescent days. I wrote in my novel In Elizabeth about how, even in primary school, I stood at the back of my class line during ‘school assembly’ and surveyed my classmates in terms of ‘likeability’, not so much in sexual terms, though there was probably an element of that. It interested me to think, or feel, that those who attracted me least were the ‘girly girls’ and ‘the boysy boys’, even if I could only judge from the clothes they wore, which may well have been chosen by their parents. But also something in the way they moved, which attracted or repulsed me like no other school-kid. 

Later, into my teens, with schooldays happily left behind, I discovered Bowie, and Lou Reed’s Transformer album, and played deliciously transgressive games with lipstick and stockings and a tucked-away penis. It was a phase, you might say, but I do recall that in the pre-pubescent era, I found boys who were just as physically attractive as girls, an attraction that faded with the appearance of facial hair and signs of muscularity. Broken voices might have broken the spell too.  

One term that I never had to consider, of course, was the term ‘trans’, a term I’m still not sure that I understand, hence this investigative piece. But before I embark on that prickly issue, here’s a thought.

Do dogs know that they’re male or female? Cats? Birds? Yes, some get pregnant, or lay eggs, while other don’t, and that’s how we distinguish them, as well as anatomically, but… Is it a matter of consciousness, aka the hard problem of philosophy? Of course ‘AI’ provides an answer, which is more or less the one I would give. Gender as we know it is a social construct, as well as an aspect of language, but with other creatures it’s more about biological cues – pheromones perhaps, as well as subtle physiological differences (perhaps not so subtle for them). Chimps/bonobos seem to recognise those of their own sex, not just for sex but for hanging out, for fighting and so on. And it seems that, even with our close cousins, there are girly girls and boysy boys, as Frans de Waal noted in his book Different, particularly in his description of the gender-nonconforming female chimp, Donna, brought up in the Yerkes Field Station in Atlanta, USA:

Donna grew up into a robust female who acted more masculine than other females. She had the large head with the rough-hewn facial features of males, and sturdy hands and feet. She could sit poised like a male. If she raised her hair, which she did more often the older she got, she was quite intimidating, thanks to her broad shoulders. Her genitals were those of a female, however, even though they were never fully swollen. Female chimpanzees, at the peak of their thirty-five day menstrual cycle, sport inflated genitals. But after Donna passed puberty, hers never reached the shiny maximum size that announces fertility. The males were barely interested in her and refrained from mating. Since Donna also never masturbated, she probably didn’t have a strong sex drive. She never had offspring. 

Frans de Waal, Different: what apes can teach us about gender, pp 50-51

 

de Waal spends the next half dozen pages describing Donna in terms of sex (physical elements) and gender (behaviour), which again reminds me of schooldays. Donna was big for a female, just as some human females are taller and heavier than the average male, her calling voice was lower than most females’, and she engaged in hooting, swaggering behaviour with other males, though she was never violent. As with humans, male chimps are hairier than the females, but Donna was hairier than most. In spite of her eccentricity, her tendency to hang out with the males and her unusual appearance, she was well-accepted by her troupe. 

So was Donna “trans”? de Waal asks this question himself:

Individuals who are born as one sex yet feel they belong to the opposite sex are known as transgender. Transgender humans actually prefer to turn this description around and prioritise their felt identity. They were born as one sex but found themselves inside the body of the other. We have no way of applying this to Donna, however, because we can’t know how she perceived her gender. In many ways – her grooming relations with others, her non-aggressiveness -she acted more like a female than a male. The best way to describe her is perhaps as a largely asexual gender-non-conforming individual. 

Ibid, p54

 

I mentioned schooldays. A fond memory from when I was around nine years old was of a class-mate, a big strapping thunder-thighed girl who would lie on her back on the school’s grassy knoll and urge us to run and jump on her. She’d catch us, rough us up a bit, then toss us to one side ready for the next victim. As the smallest kid in the class I was an easy toss, and I loved it. I found her totally admirable, perhaps also because she was the smartest kid in my class – along with myself of course. 

The point here, I think, is acceptance of difference – which is what de Waal’s Different is all about. In some ways the ‘trans’ thing is about our need to categorise, and our obsession with being hard and fast about those categories. I recall my enthusiasm when unisex toilets became a thing a couple of decades ago, but it doesn’t seem to have caught on, really, though I do know of a few people who subscribe to gender fluidity, and ‘men who want to be men’ and ‘women who want to be women’, are types I prefer to avoid, largely because they tend to want to impose those hard and fast categories on others. But in researching ‘gender fluidity’ I again find this human tendency to categorise gets in the way, with ‘gender fluid’ being described as it own category that requires explaining, like some medical/physiological/psychological condition, as if people who are this way worry about being abnormal in some sense, rather than rarely giving it a moment’s thought. 

And yet, what with the patriarchy that is still with us, abetted by all the major religions, gender in a general sense is something we need to face. So I will leave transgender and gender reassignment issues, which are purely human ones, for another piece, and focus for now on sex, or gender, and power, which is an issue for all complex social creatures.

de Waal has a chapter in his book, ‘Bonobo Sisterhood’, which compares those apes with their chimp cousins and neighbours. The Lola ya Bonobo sanctuary near Kinshasa, capital of the embattled Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), is home to over 70 bonobos, many of them damaged orphans rescued from poachers and traders. This has made the sanctuary a difficult place for observing the natural life of bonobos, since many of them have experienced injury, separation from parents and other disruptions, including leading pampered lives in human households. One female bonobo who had been brought up with humans was quite bewildered when brought to the sanctuary, where other females greeted her with kisses and presenting of genitals for hoka-hoka, also known as genito-genital (GG) rubbing, a form of female sexual bonding that is key to their collective control of males. Not having been brought up in a bonobo environment, this female took some time to become accustomed to the ‘natural’ behaviour of her kind. Another bonobo had spent his early years in a gorilla enclosure, and was accustomed to making ‘gorilla’ noises and gestures. He was quite bewildered when female bonobos made advances, and didn’t recognise their genital swellings as anything sexual – though he eventually worked it out.

The point here is that there are social cues about sex and behaviour as well as what we might consider natural cues. And, as Donna the chimp has shown us, there may be wide differences in sexual behaviour within species, and it might be well for we humans to note the tolerance within the chimp community shown to Donna’s quasi-male behavioural traits. 

de Waal provides a description of bonobos, particularly in contrast to chimps, that I’ll set down here to remind myself, more than anyone, of the difference:

Chimps look as if they work out in the gym every day. They have large heads, thick necks, and broad, muscular shoulders. In comparison, bonobos have an intellectual look, as if they spend time in the library. They have slim upper bodies, narrow shoulders, thin necks, and elegant piano-player hands. A lot of their weight is in their legs, which are long and thin. When a chimpanzee knuckle-walks on all fours, his back slopes down from his powerful shoulders. A bonobo, in contrast, has a perfectly horizontal back because of his elevated hips. When standing on two legs, bonobos straighten their back and hips better than any other ape, so that they look eerily human-like. They walk upright with remarkable ease while carrying food or looking out over tall grass. 

Frans de Waal, Different: p 109

 

 There’s more, and you get the impression that de Waal is very much captivated by the species. He even argues that their anatomy is closer to Lucy, our Australopithecus ancestor, than is any other of the great apes. It’s true that they’re more arboreal, due to the environment in which they’re confined. They’re also more group-oriented than chimps and more neotenous, according to de Waal. That’s to say, they preserve childhood or juvenile traits into adulthood – as do humans, with our love of play of all kinds. Their sensitivity may be attested to by a poignant story related by de Waal. A group of bonobos were sent to the Hellabrunn Zoo in Munich in the 1930s, just around the time that they were recognised as a separate species. Their uniqueness was noted by the first experts who studied them – ‘The bonobo is an extraordinarily sensitive, gentle creature, far removed from the demoniacal Urkraft [primitive force] of the adult chimpanzee”. But, as de Waal relates:

Sadly, the Hellabrunn bonobos died on the night in 1944 when the World War II allies bombed Munich. Terrified by the noise, they all succumbed to heart failure. That none of the zoo’s other apes suffered the same fate attests to the bonobo’s exceptional sensitivity.

Ibid: p 111

 

It seems to me – no doubt many would disagree – that bonobo sensitivity bears some relation to their matriarchal and more generally bonding culture. As de Waal and others point out, bonobos really are very very sexual, and it has nothing to do with reproduction, the rate of which is no greater than chimps. And it really is a ‘make love not war’ mind-set, with sexual closeness, especially among females, acting against serious violence, though they can be as rough-and-tumble in their play as their chimp cousins. de Waal, in his bonobo chapter, describes how reluctant the scientific community were to accept both bonobo matriarchy and bonobo sexual enthusiasm. I find this community’s reluctance, even today, to emphasise the matriarchy and sexuality of this closest relative of ours, to be a source of great frustration. Bonobos deserve our attention – and will repay it in spades – not just by the fact that they’re matriarchal but in the way they’ve become matriarchal, in spite of a slight sexual dimorphism in the males’ favour. Diane Rosenfeld’s The Bonobo Sisterhood is a start, but it requires the attention and activity of both females and males to move us in the right direction. Et ça va prendre beaucoup de temps, malheureusement.

References

Frans de Waal, Different: what apes can teach us about gender, 2022

Diane Rosenfeld, The bonobo sisterhood, 2022

https://www.bonobosisterhoodalliance.org