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See, I try to make sure my facial hair is
symmetrical on both sides of my face.
It’s not. I know it’s not. You may not be able to tell, but it’s not.

I don’t get much chest hair on the right
side, but there quite a bit on the left, so I just end up shaving it all off
because, well, who wants one hairy peck?

I switched to boxers in the 7th grade
because my high school actually had changing rooms, and I figured briefs were
embarrassing.

I’ve never hit anybody outside of a martial
arts class, and even then it was mostly me getting hit. Well, that’s a lie. I
punched my friend when I was three because he pulled my sister’s hair. I still
feel bad about that. Also I don’t know martial arts.

I don’t like to hurt people or kill things;
I’ll follow a spider around forever with a napkin or a box just so I can carry
it outside. This one time I accidentally drowned a daddy-long-legs and it
ruined my whole damn day.

I like to feel things. I like that I’m so
easily moved by other people’s suffering; that I have to bite the inside of my
cheek in the movie theater just to keep it together sometimes, but I don’t like
that I feel the need to keep it together.

I am... a man. Am I?

Who sets the beat to which I must
Align my gait, my stance, my stride?

Who draws the lines of should and shouldn’t?
These lines embedded in my grandfather’s
forehead
As he furrows his brow to scold my
shoulder-length hair

See, I come from a land of chivalry
Where all men are (men men men men manly men
men men)
Where gender roles are rooted in fear and
insecurity
And every man is a threat because I am not a
man without a leash on my woman

How low must this bladed pendulum swing?
How long my beard? How trimmed my hair?
How unchecked must my rage go?
How low must this pendulum swing?
No, how low must my scrotum hang?

See, I come from a line of angry men
Old and hard, with saddened eyes
Men of principle and veracity
Traders, merchants and builders.

But see, I come from a line of free-spirited
women
Socialites, teachers and artists
Who look their best and speak their minds
And hardly age at all

I am not a creature of honor
Shame brings with it the comfort of my own
fallibility
I am not a creature of honor
I am not a creature of lineage or conquest
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