I'm Sorry I'm a Man

I'm sorry I'm a man.

I do know that as far back as I can remember I've been this way. I was born this way. Please queue the Lady Gaga music, thank you. No, I was not born with female parts, nor have I ever felt any need to undergo a surgery. This won't be a plot-twist essay. I'm too boring for that. I was merely born male. Let me explain.

I'm sorry: I was raised by my single mother; that may be the problem. I was raised to be a boy. I was also raised to be quiet and do as I was told. I was not encouraged to question authority; I was expected to revere it. I wasn't raised to play outside (that was dangerous). I was raised to read books and get lost in my imagination (I did). I was raised to be ambitious. I was raised to be quiet. I was raised to be curious. I was raised to ask for permission for everything. I was raised to be chivalrous and defend the downtrodden.

I'm sorry. I was supposed to like boy things, and I did (usually). I was supposed to be tough and assertive (I wasn't). I was supposed to defend myself (I couldn't). I was supposed to be thin (I wouldn't be). I was supposed to be strong (only in spirit). I was supposed to be a doctor (I tried).

I'm sorry. I'm terrible at expressing emotions because the bad ones (like anger, fear, uncontrolled sadness, etc.) were verboten. I'm especially bad about showing anger or aggression. This was forbidden and would be met with utter wrath followed by total disappointment. I was a good boy. How could I possibly be angry?

I'm sorry. Maybe this sounds like I'm blaming my mom, and I'm not. She tried her best, but she raised me by herself and was quite sickly. It was an absolute necessity for me to occasionally save her diabetic life with my Juicy Juice boxes, because these made her go from talking funny and looking sleepy to loud and angry. I knew that the latter was better than the former. It was a requirement for me to not be in the way because she was continuously unwell. It's just plain rude to cause a sick person distress.

I'm sorry about school, too. There, I learned that showing weakness was wrong. Show an ounce of weakness, the tiniest hint of fear or uncertainty, and everyone would pounce on you, calling you names like crybaby, stupid, and girly. The names got more non-PC as the years went on. The interesting thing is that it wasn't just bullying from the adults. My peers were usually guilty of this, too. How many times did I hear, "man up?" I couldn't possibly be crying for a legitimate reason. I was probably just mistaken that my mom was in the hospital for the third time that year. Sorry about that.

I'm sorry to my girlfriend, whom I discovered that I can't properly defend (sorry, Mom). OK, I guess there was a plot twist, because many of you assumed I was gay. Shame on you, but I'll keep your secret. Most of my family members at one point or another assumed the same thing, because I took so long to get a girlfriend. (I was just too nice, they'd say. In reality, I was just too fat and shy, but that's a different story.)

I'm sorry, I went off on a tangent.

I'm sorry to my girlfriend, because last night when a short, round person harassed her as we were walking past him/her (I'm still unsure of this person's sex/gender). My girlfriend and I were holding hands when this person says (starting to follow us), "Ma'am you look so beautiful, I wish you was with me and not him." I could only reply, pathetically, "Unfortunately for you, she's with me."

To which the person said, "Unfortunately, I can see that, dumbass."

"Unfortunately, she's mine."

"Ugh, you sound mad effeminate." My girlfriend pulled me tighter and we walked quicker. The verbal assault continued until we were far enough away that we couldn't hear it.

I'm sorry that I wanted to get violent and didn't (maybe I just meant "but didn't"?). I'm very sorry that I was torn between not hitting a (potential) woman and letting my girlfriend endure the shame she was already feeling. I'm sorry that I can't be the aggressive alpha-male that swings first and then just swings again. I'm sorry I'm not the argumentative person to have fought back with my words, because my words had run and hid inside of me as I had trained them to do for years.

I'm sorry that I'm prone to the passive voice in my writing, as I've discovered today when one of my blog posts for work was critiqued. I'm sorry that I have all of these emotions and I'm writing them down instead of speaking them out. I'm sorry that I'm not more empowered, like so many women these days are encouraged to feel.

I'm sorry I'm a man, but can't man up.

I'm sorry that I'm just a man.

I'm sorry that I typed this story to be about me, and yet, it's not, because:

I'm most sorry, out of all of it, that now, after yesterday, my girlfriend says, "Me too."

I'm sorry that it's taken me this long to have a real, firsthand slap-in-the-face glimpse into what she and millions of other women go through on a daily basis.

I'm sorry.

So, so very sorry.