what makes a man?

                                                                                    What makes a man?

As a gay man I have been asked this question several times in my life, how am I a man if I like another man. During my days of crisis and self-rejection I faced a tremendous dilemma on how manly my gay thoughts were. But I was somehow assured of being a man, as I had all organs intact and as no one could “tell” easily that I am gay! It is like saying to a human no one could tell that you are a human being, but unfortunately the assurance of my manhood coming from a specific organ and the “straight acting” behavior comforted me. And this is just not me, I can assure you. Somehow however equal we become, even in the gay community the manhood is judged by the length and breadth of the organ that hangs between our legs.  I cannot say I am beyond this selection who feels-to be a man you need a dick. But in life certain things happen at times that makes you ask questions to your own belief. Something very similar happened to me very recently in a bizarre context but it moved me deeply and hence this essay.

Recently I started talking to a guy online, I got really attracted to his picture where he flaunts his hairy lean chest. We kept talking, and the conversation revolved around sexual interest as usual. Ultimately we planned to meet and in fact he said he will come over to me. There can be any number of judgments on us, who give in to instant gratification, but I am neither writing to flaunt it nor am I going to defend it. It is just an alternative way of life that a lot of people has and a lot of other people have the right to disagree to it. Anyway while I was waiting for him to get to my apartment and checking my online messages from time to time just to be sure he did not get lost, a message came from him saying –I chickened out and did not leave, but I cannot get sex out of my mind, so I am coming over, but promise me that you will not ask me to take my pants off. I said yes, though I found it a little weird that he wants to have sex with pants on! Anyway, his honesty was more important to me at that point than his pants, if you know the rule of hookups you would know 50-70% of the time people are dishonest about everything they say. So he finally got to my apartment, I have not seen a cute face and a bright smile in a very long time like his. But there was something in his smile that was telling the Sherlock in me that I need my power of deduction. Anyway we talked for a while and then we get on with our business, and when he undid his shirt I saw scars running at the back of his waist line and scars on his hands. I knew what the matter was immediately; my science education told me what was going on there. But to my surprise I was not the usual south Asian gay man this time, full of judgment and abuse for anyone who is a little different from me at the skin level. So we kept making out and I can tell you enjoyed every moment of it, but somehow I could feel a huge tension in him, he kept avoiding anything that might take me near his “male part”. And I did not actually insist as I really loved the smile, and his eyes though it was full of anticipation. There came a time that evening when I saw in his eyes he wants me to know the truth but just could not word it. So I tried to break the ice by asking, is there anything that you want to tell me? And he said I am afraid you will not like me anymore if I do. It broke my heart, right then I was with a man who has been hurt so many times by “men” like me, I felt a deep love and understanding for him and I knew how much it takes for him to tell me the “simple truth”. Finally when I saw he really needs to tell me the truth but just cannot do it, I told him I know you are undergoing a female to male transition. No words, no painting, nothing could ever reproduce his eyes at that moment; he was shocked, scared, ashamed of himself and at the same time happy that I knew. And he kept asking how did you know, did I hate him after knowing it, and things like that. He never cried, but I could see the pain hanging in his eyes, so deep and so frozen that it just could not melt down.

I cannot say I am beyond all my “male” stereotypes already, I do like the “male organ” but I learned something very big that night, no organ can make a human male or female. It is in our brain. It is so incredibly difficult but seemingly easy to see, he was born with a vagina, but there was no connection between his manhood that was growing in his brain with the vagina he was born with. And the society just gave him disapproval, and abuse. The irony of this discrimination is, we made him believe that he is not “man” enough. That was the hardest part for me to grasp, the disapproval and the pain he is going trough to obtain an organ that will magically make him a “man” when blood rushes in to it! He is so used to abuse, that when I kissed him and said I like him he wanted to trust me and like me back at that moment but at the same time as if he was waiting for me to get disgusted, and abusive.

                To end my essay I would say that I personally am learning to see the man in a man’s head not hanging between his legs, I cannot say I am there yet or can date someone right now who does not fit the manhood stereotype. But I can say for sure I can love him, and support him, with not a single tinge of pity but just compassion. As I know very well how does it feel when disapproving eyes hover over someone.