As most of you know, I am a man. I wear nail polish and have my hair long. I occasionally wear makeup and crossdress a little bit. As traditional gender roles go, I’ve eschewed most of them. I don’t see the point of them. When I was wee, I’d play with cars, Meccano, LEGO, dolls and anything else I wanted to because I wanted to. I wasn’t limited in what I was allowed to play with, except that one time in primary school.
I was about five years old at the time. I’d picked up a plastic thing with holes in it. It was square and had a lace with it. The object of it was to lace the thing up how-ever-the-bloody-hell you wanted. My teacher came up to me and snatched the square out of my tiny hands, telling me not to play with it because it was for girls. I took another, more “gender appropriate” toy, and began playing with that, all the while noticing what she was doing with my holy square. She put it down to attend to another pupil and I took it back. Nobody was going to tell me how to play and what to play with. I could tie my laces by the time I was three years old and found it therapeutic to pull a lace through the holes.
All this has a point. My parents let me play with whatever I wanted, let me dress how I wanted, whilst also making me aware that I was a boy, but not placing any real importance upon it. I feel that a lot of parents put too much emphasis on gender roles or lack thereof.
The modern parents seem to think that their child is something special if they’re a boy and want to wear a dress, or if they’re a girl and want to play with cars. They’re not. They’re just young human beings who don’t know that in society’s eye, it’s “wrong” for a girl to be boyish and a boy to be girly.
Now we have the idea of transsexual people. Transgender, actually. Whatever the proper terminology is. I read a meme saying not to assume someone’s pronouns. Listen up: If you look like a man, I’ll call you “dude,” if you look like a woman, I’ll call you “dude.” It means nothing to me. Now, I’m not saying that I’m insensitive to their struggle, though why should it be a struggle? That’s society again. If you want to go into a men’s bathroom looking like a woman, or vice versa, go ahead. I don’t care. I’m not afraid that I’ll be molested. I’d be more likely to be molested by one of my best friends because most sexual crimes are committed by people who know each other. What goes on under your clothes is of no concern to me.
What else is there? Oh, yeah, I might as well cover the idiotic topic of coming out. Why? No, I’m seriously asking “why?” why come out? What, as if that’s going to make any difference to me, or to anyone else. “Oh, by the way, I’m gay!” Uh-huh, look at the way you look at other men/women. Look at that mincing gait. Hey, stop looking at me like that, I know I’m sexy, and you fancy me, but you can’t have my cock! Yeah, I just don’t really see the point of coming out. If I had a child who came out to me, I’d just be “oh, right. Duh. Cuppa tea?” just because. I love the people I love because I love them. “What” they are means nothing to me, unless they’re a murderer, eyeing me up for their next victim, then they can get tae.
Whether you’re born with male genitals, female genitals, both or none, makes little difference to whether I like you. If you’re a good person, I’ll be good to you. If you’re an arsehole, I’ll just ignore you. Sexual orientation and gender may be innate, but they aren’t the sum of what we are. Stop making them more important than they are.
*Drops mic*
Kittylove,
Andrew =^.^=
I was about five years old at the time. I’d picked up a plastic thing with holes in it. It was square and had a lace with it. The object of it was to lace the thing up how-ever-the-bloody-hell you wanted. My teacher came up to me and snatched the square out of my tiny hands, telling me not to play with it because it was for girls. I took another, more “gender appropriate” toy, and began playing with that, all the while noticing what she was doing with my holy square. She put it down to attend to another pupil and I took it back. Nobody was going to tell me how to play and what to play with. I could tie my laces by the time I was three years old and found it therapeutic to pull a lace through the holes.
All this has a point. My parents let me play with whatever I wanted, let me dress how I wanted, whilst also making me aware that I was a boy, but not placing any real importance upon it. I feel that a lot of parents put too much emphasis on gender roles or lack thereof.
The modern parents seem to think that their child is something special if they’re a boy and want to wear a dress, or if they’re a girl and want to play with cars. They’re not. They’re just young human beings who don’t know that in society’s eye, it’s “wrong” for a girl to be boyish and a boy to be girly.
Now we have the idea of transsexual people. Transgender, actually. Whatever the proper terminology is. I read a meme saying not to assume someone’s pronouns. Listen up: If you look like a man, I’ll call you “dude,” if you look like a woman, I’ll call you “dude.” It means nothing to me. Now, I’m not saying that I’m insensitive to their struggle, though why should it be a struggle? That’s society again. If you want to go into a men’s bathroom looking like a woman, or vice versa, go ahead. I don’t care. I’m not afraid that I’ll be molested. I’d be more likely to be molested by one of my best friends because most sexual crimes are committed by people who know each other. What goes on under your clothes is of no concern to me.
What else is there? Oh, yeah, I might as well cover the idiotic topic of coming out. Why? No, I’m seriously asking “why?” why come out? What, as if that’s going to make any difference to me, or to anyone else. “Oh, by the way, I’m gay!” Uh-huh, look at the way you look at other men/women. Look at that mincing gait. Hey, stop looking at me like that, I know I’m sexy, and you fancy me, but you can’t have my cock! Yeah, I just don’t really see the point of coming out. If I had a child who came out to me, I’d just be “oh, right. Duh. Cuppa tea?” just because. I love the people I love because I love them. “What” they are means nothing to me, unless they’re a murderer, eyeing me up for their next victim, then they can get tae.
Whether you’re born with male genitals, female genitals, both or none, makes little difference to whether I like you. If you’re a good person, I’ll be good to you. If you’re an arsehole, I’ll just ignore you. Sexual orientation and gender may be innate, but they aren’t the sum of what we are. Stop making them more important than they are.
*Drops mic*
Kittylove,
Andrew =^.^=
