I’m glad that I’m not a man.
I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to survive in a world where I’m not allowed to break down just because I’m a man, while all the women around me could so easily express how they felt, and no one told them that they were not allowed to cry.
I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to be tagged as a rapist just because I’m a man, while I myself was raped at the age of eleven by my aunt, and I could never tell anyone, because my ‘manliness’ would be at question if I said I was raped.
I can’t imagine how hard I would have to struggle to protect the women around me, because society (yes, society as a whole, and not every individual) said that men are supposed to protect women, while I myself felt so vulnerable all the time, but men are supposed to be strong enough to protect themselves, and others.
I can’t imagine how bad it would have felt to not be able to play with all my sister’s Barbies that I so loved, because men are not supposed to play with dolls, while I shared all my cars with my sister.
I can’t imagine how humiliating it’d be if I was teased just because I wore a pink shirt (yes, they say real men don’t wear pink clothes), while all the women could wear clothes of all colours.
I can’t imagine how disappointed I’d be when the girl I liked (the liking was mutual, she had a crush on me too) started dating another guy whom she didn’t like as much, just because I had failed to ask her out as I was too shy, but it’s a man’s duty to ask out the woman he likes, and not the other way round.
I’m glad that I’m not a man, for I don’t know if I’d have been able to handle all these difficulties.
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