Member-only story
Should I embrace who I am: genetically, I possess an extra female chromosome: (XXY). I believe that this influences the way I interact with the world. It is a gift bestowed on to me by nature. In a world governed by toxic masculinity, one may perceive this to be a curse. Physically, I’m male, and I define myself as such. Strange paradoxes, the games that nature plays. With utmost respect to the other dominant sexual categorisation, I have no desire to be a woman. Yet, I embrace emotional traits that some may define as feminine.
My mind is a catacomb, one within which I imprisoned my truth from the world.
From around the age of thirteen, I found myself sexually attracted to men. Ah, the luck of dice, a man who desires to be with men. Outwardly, he looks like a man, but genetically his chromosomes say something different.
I fear to revisit the trauma bestowed upon me as a child. Remembering pubescent, wearing those baggy white shirts in tropical climes and large black jackets in temperate summers, desperately trying to hide my enlarged breast. What a monster I then believed I was? The visible and invisible tears I cried from the mockery visited upon me, like flaming whips, they scoured my mind — the wounds freshly inflicted every day before the open ones had time to heal. I feared playing sports, so I…
