'man' - Part I

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