Here’s the beginning of a man. The one I call me.
I arrived on this planet in the form of a human baby. The body which Mother Earth lent me was male. I was born a Caucasian male in a large country located in the northern part of North America.
Since my body was male, I was expected to grow up to become a man. This might sound obvious and simple but it was one of the biggest challenges I had to face in this life.
How do you BECOME a man? Was I not a young man already? Why did my father shout at me? Why did he keep hitting me? Why did he try so hard to make a man out of me? Was I not destined to become one automatically? I did not understand what he was trying to do. I thought there was something wrong with me. He gave me the impression that I was failing and that I might turn into a girl if I was not careful.
Does it even make sense? Let me try to remember…
I’m starting to shake as I think about this. I feel a pressure inside my chest. My hands, my arms are trembling as I try to type and concentrate on what I intend to write.
“He gave me the impression that I was failing and that I might turn into a girl if I was not careful.” This sentence brings back a profound fear that is probably still in me. I wonder if girls/women can relate to this. It sounds ridiculous. A boy cannot transform into a girl if he’s not careful.
It took me years before I began to understand what was going on. But in the beginning, I was really confused about this male thing. All I could perceive, with my child’s eyes, was that my father hated me. I did not know why he hated me.
The memories are coming back now. He hated it when I cried. He would kick me and yell at me to stop crying. But the more he hit me, the more I cried. I tried to seal my lips by holding my mouth shut so that no sound would escape, but then it would come out of my nose and my eyes until everything went blurry.
Eventually I learned how to hold back my tears, how to muffle my voice and how to stay as far from him as possible. I don’t even remember him ever hugging me. I thought he was a man. I knew that I didn’t want to become like him. So who or what was I to become? This is probably when I started to dissociate from mankind.
I knew that I was a man. I also knew that I was not like the men I knew. There was not one adult man with whom I could identify. And I knew that I was not a girl. So what was I? An alien man?