During my recent safari in Tanzania, the Ngorongoro Crater, a natural arena perfect for the great spectacles of the savannah, represented before my eyes an unexpected biological drama that became a magnificent opportunity for wildlife photography and social reflection. At the center of the scene, two Grant's gazelles and their attempt to perpetuate the species. Or rather, the attempt of the male and the clear refusal of the female, who ruined not only the reproductive project, but also the seed of the unfortunate protagonist.
The episode was an exemplary representation of how sexual selection is a relentless engine of evolution. The male, after having defended his territory with pride and demonstrated his prowess with fearless leaps and scent markings, found himself faced with the most ruthless biological verdict: the female was not interested. A moment of hesitation, a lightning-fast swerve, and the male's ejaculation was dispersed in the air, nullifying all his efforts. A tragic failure, because, in the ruthless logic of evolution, a missed opportunity is a piece of DNA that will never reach the next generation and a surprise for me who, while I was taking the burst of photographs, had not even noticed the level of detail that I had captured and that would surprise me during a subsequent autumn evening of reviewing the shots.
What is striking about experiencing a safari without the mental superstructures of our culture is the rawness with which nature exhibits the centrality of sexuality in all its forms. Every movement, every interaction, every chemical or visual signal of an animal has, ultimately, a single purpose: to maximize its offspring. In a world where mating is a zero-sum game, the loser leaves no trace.
Observing these behaviors cannot but lead to reflections on how pervasive sexuality is also in our species, only declined in more complex ways. Human sexuality, beyond its reproductive value, has become a social and political force. In recent decades, individuals' sexual behaviors have taken on an increasingly relevant role in social dynamics and even political agendas, influencing laws, rights, fueling social conflict and redefining concepts of identity and belonging.
And so, while the incel gazelle of Ngorongoro licks the wounds of its reproductive failure, and the hyenas in the distance sing the African chant "looooser, looooser", the human being continues to weave complex plots around his sexuality, oscillating between primordial impulses and cultural constructions. Ultimately, the safari is not just an opportunity to take beautiful photos, but a way to strip away illusions and observe life for what it is: an incessant struggle for the propagation of one's genetic code. With all due respect to the gazelles (and some humans) who don't make it.
Epilogue: I submitted my photo to some reputable photography contests who thunderously ignored it and my pixels fruitlessly dispersed across the web like Grant's gazelle sperm on the savannah.
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