not much of a man

Not Much of a Man

My morning’s email brought with it a bunch of digital photos of me and my family over the holidays, and my reaction to them was not positive.

What I saw were the kind of photos where, years later, a next generation asks, “Who’s that weird-looking guy in this picture?” and the answer is something like, “Oh, he was some crazy uncle… I heard he was a nice enough guy, but obviously quite strange…”

Looking at the photo was troubling not because of the judgment of others, but because of my own verdict, to wit: one strange bird among several normal-looking people.

“THAT is not a man,” I think to myself. “Doesn’t really look like a woman either, but maybe it’d be better if it did.”

Pretending to be just me, the guy, the way I have always been, but with long hair and other, more subtle changes – in affectations and posing and facial hair and manicure – is just putting a ridiculous picture out there.

I am going to have to put more effort into being a reasonable approximation of a man, or… the entire pretense is going to have to go.