How to be a Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
An anecdote on manhood.

Submitted: July 11, 2017

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Submitted: July 11, 2017



Some days I wake up and wish I was genderless so that I wouldn't have to worry about what others deem the lesser gender. Instead I am haunted by the capital m, following my every step, shadowing my every move, looming over my frail figure. "You are a man", it whispers in my ears, "and a man doesn't act the way you do. A man doesn't befriend his tears or talk fondly of his emotions. Your greatest ability as a man is to suppress and oppress - that has always been the case throughout history." Yet no matter how much I try to proclaim masculine dominance, I realize that I fail to truly fulfill this role. I keep my back straight and my head held high just so that I can emanate masculinity, but I know that deep down inside I consider myself neither masculine nor feminine. I consider myself merely another creature lost in cosmos, spending their days on a pebble that orbits around a bigger pebble. Is it my fault, then, that I desire nothing more than to defeat what my biology dictates? At times I even despise the feelings that my instincts evoke within me, and those are the times I want nothing more than to be without gender and without boundaries. When my eyes linger a little bit longer than they should on a woman's hips, or my gaze settles for a second or two on a woman's breasts, I feel shame slithering and creeping its way into my core, telling me that this is wrong, that I am nothing but a shallow shell of a creature who failed to overcome his primeval needs. But within the exact same minute, the voice of masculinity begins its whisper again: "THIS is how a REAL man supposed to behave. A real man must detect what he wants, know what he wants, and dominate what he wants. He must take lead and act as a rock for his partner. He mustn't submit beneath the weight of trivial emotions. He must use logic and facts to pave the way for those who rely on him - that is what a real man should do." 
Then I look inside the glass at my own reflection, into my own vulnerable eyes that stare back at me in despair, and I discover that I will always be a burden to those around me. Either my lack of masculine tendencies or the guilt that follows whenever I slightly succumb to manhood will send me down a path of self-destruction, and I fear that this path will lead to loneliness in the end. I see other men in my vicinity holding the hands of their women, and I wonder if they truly learned what it must mean to be reliable and strong like a real man. Or perhaps history is wrong. Perhaps biology is a mere reflection of the lowest common denominator. 
There are, however, some moments of clarity here and there when I'm freed from this ball and chain, when I stare into the eyes of another fellow human being, piercing the surface and at once arriving to their tumultuous centre. Only then I realize that there are people who have always fought to break boundaries and defy biology, and then I understand that I can be whoever I want to be, regardless of my gender and what's between my legs. That is one hope that pushes me forward, for it shines a light upon humanity's true potential, showing me that there is much more to human beings than just their DNA and instincts. 
Or at least that is what I would like to believe.

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