There are some things that are, they simply are, reality as we have to accept it. And one of the things that we have to deal with is the reality, the existential verity, of our biological sex.
(Now, before anyone jumps into the fray with the genetic hermaphrodites and other assorted exceptions that prove the rule, well over 99.9 percent of the people we encounter (and I consider that a conservative estimate) are either xx or xy, male or female. Gender and sexuality as they are taught in the universities of the twenty-first century west have nothing to do with biological sex.)
I am a male, born a male, raised a male, live as a male.
I cannot and will not speak for the female because that awareness is outside of my experience. As a male I have observed, interacted with, and loved females and, once I reached the awareness of otherness saw them, other than biologically, basically the same as males, just a little biologically different.
Perhaps it was being raised the the atmosphere of the nineteen sixties (hippie, “peace love and understanding”), maybe it was a result of having been essentially raised by a single mother in the last time when that was looked down upon, it could have been the female teachers who somehow recognized a spark in me and fed that spark and perhaps created the massive curiosity I have to explore and understand, it may have been the effect of the television that showed me a world out there, places I could go and things I could do. I guess I always figured that if I felt this way, everyone did, male and female.
God has blessed me by bring into my sphere of influence (which basically was non-existent for many years) two bright lights, youths on the brink of adulthood, bright shining seeds of the future, potential contributors of a greater tomorrow. One male and one female both in their early twenties, both angry and confused about the chaotic world of the twenty-first century, both seeking to understand that world and take it by storm, both frustrated by having to wait, uncertain why the world doesn’t just recognize their genius.
I too was there once upon a time, but I had no mentor, no guide to show me that there is a way through the madness and that eventually everything will work out and God will guide you to where you need to be. God was good to me, though, and guided me through the rough waters to a place where I could leave behind what I needed to leave behind and plant my seeds in a new country to his glory on a new shore, to nurture the plant and become a tree planted by the waters.
He is my dude and she is my doll. Recently I was thinking about why I never call her, Dude. Dude is one of my favorite words, has been for probably twenty years now. Dude expresses my appreciation of our equality, a value that as a citizen of the United States raised on the Declaration of Independence I hold dear). Sometimes I use the word, Dude, generically. For her, though the word is Doll.
Dolls come in all shapes and sizes. Dolls, in my mind, are physically human but otherwise have to specific definition until qualified by an adjective.
She is a female, this is everpresent in my awareness and there are certain things, certain parts of myself, that I cannot and will not share with her because they are male and, having grudgingly accept the social contract, there are certain places I will not go with her (unless she brings them up and then as a good tutor I will follow through).
One of the more difficult parts of being a mentor to these two young people is the everpresent awareness that they must understand my humanity. I will gladly and gratefully share with them everything I know and have come to understand in my journey through life, thank you God, for having blessed me and allowed me to do so. But I cannot and will not have them see me for other than I am.
And I am human, flawed, petty, weak sometimes. I was not blessed as some seem to be, to have lived a perfect life and never have done anything to transgress the holiness of my spirit, no, for me life has been a rocky road and, crawling out of the cesspool of my youth, it has taken me a while accept that God, in all his glory, brought me to this moment and gave me this opportunity to share my spirit with the future.
I am so blessed in so many ways that the petty concerns that would bring me down are shallow, weak blows, easily fended off. The problem is, I am non-violent, and even weak blows are blows, and the effect of enough weak blows can trigger something greater (physics). There should be no blows at all.