There was a time in my life when I truly desired to be such. Genderless. Not that I didn’t care about the gender – quite on the contrary, actually – I cared about it too much.

I was never proud of being a woman. I was ashamed of it. It almost felt like I could have been better off if I was born a man. As  if men had it easier.

It was male qualities I admired. Male ways of dealing with things. It seemed to me that life was so much easier when you were born a man, ‘cuz men, as it seemed to me back then, were immune to the range of emotions (commonly classified as a feminine trait). I don’t know how this ridiculous norm of having to forbid myself emotion got into my head, but, as a consequence, I started to hate everything what was even vaguely feminine. I didn’t want to display any female traits and I looked down upon others displaying those. It seemed to me that it was shameful to be a woman. Little did I know that the only person who was shaming me for being feminine was myself.

Today the tagline is: try to ‘gender’ less. Place less emphasis on gender. I truly belive we all carry both male and female types of energy within. Neither one of those is to be worshiped or despised. The key is to come to terms with that which we have – the fluctuating currents of both genders.

I have never felt so at peace with that which I am.

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