I might as well come out and say it: I was not very tuned in to gender politics when I was in… I might as well come out and say it: I was not very tuned in to gender politics when I was in kindergarten. The only topical comments I was willing to make were that boys go to college to get more knowledge and that girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider. After 16 years of exhaustive education, I now know that the latter is not only grammatically incorrect but debatable as well; I’m now in college and have seen girls in several of my classes. Looking back on those blithe days of shameless nose-picking, I have noticed one key difference between kindergarten girls and college girls ‘mdash; and it is not their likelihood of talking to me. The difference is that in kindergarten the majority of my female classmates carried their belongings in practical, no-frills backpacks, while their collegiate counterparts employ a diverse rotation of large, ornate handbags. Males, on the other hand, have remained faithful. Most of us have not only continued our backpack usage into our early 20s but have also developed close, meaningful relationships with our bags. When I was faced with the challenge of transporting my lunch, textbooks, notebooks and gym uniform to my underfunded, locker-less high school, my backpack was there. When I was informed at the airport check-in counter that my luggage was overweight and I therefore had to transfer 3.2 pounds of strategically packed belongings onto my person to avoid a $75 fine, my backpack ‘mdash; which I thenceforth called Kenneth ‘mdash; helped me carry on. When some overzealous second-graders tried jumping me for my milk money and I merely needed a makeshift shield with which to deflect the eye pokes, Kenneth had my back. It was solid, yo. Kenneth was there when I got my acceptance letter to Pitt, when I took the SATs and that other time I took the SATs. He was there when I got my first kiss and when I saw my first boobs, man. He was even at my bar mitzvah ‘mdash; my mom used him to carry a pair of sneakers for me in case I got uncomfortable in my new dress shoes, which had not been broken in. My subsequent dominance in the carry-an-egg-on-a-spoon relay, I owe in no small part to Kenneth. I understand that backpacks aren’t for everyone, and that purses have their advantages. Take variety, for instance ‘mdash; they come in virtually all shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, none seem to accommodate the average mid-range laptop very well. There are purses that sparkle, purses that twinkle, purses with locks and purses that wrinkle. However, all this aesthetic fluff comes at the expense of durability, and it is highly doubtful that any bag matching the above descriptions will last more than a few years, a mere fraction of Kenneth’s current age, which is seven and three-eighths. There might even be health risks associated with carrying purses. The American Chiropractic Organization has reported that the asymmetry of carrying a single-strapped bag can lead to shoulder and back pain, while those who wear backpacks are more likely to go their entire lives without writing a single check to a chiropractor. Still, some women insist on carrying two purses at a time, wedging a hand into each armpit to relieve the pressure of the taut straps on each shoulder. In such cases I often imagine that they are constantly doing the ‘I don’t wanna be a chicken’ part of the Chicken Dance. If wearing Kenneth makes me appear as if I am doing any dance, it would probably be a really cool one, like the moonwalk. So, why do some women continue to schlep around these massive purse behemoths despite the burden placed on their vertebrae, not to mention wallets? To impulsively deem it a product of female materialism would be a superficial judgment ‘mdash; after all, it is guys who wear shorts in warm weather despite the fact that skirts allow far better air circulation ‘mdash; and trust me, we need it more. It is then understandable that some are unwilling to sacrifice this essential facet of gender identity, even for the aforementioned reasons. I invite those who plan on continuing their singe-strap approaches to take solace in the following analogy: On the ABC drama ‘Lost,’ if Jack Shephard’s female suitors each represented a different variety of personal carryall, the ravishing yet clinically insane Kate Austen would be a chic yet unwieldy purse while Dr. Juliet Burke would be a practical, homey, down-to-earth knapsack. And thanks to that neat flash-forward system they’ve got going, we even know who he ends up choosing ‘mdash; the one with the most baggage. E-mail Ben at [email protected].