Gender X in my passport, please

Tags

equality, gender, sex

You should refer to me as he; my body was at birth built as a stereotypical male, complete with penis and balls. Later in life I did not develop breasts. I do have a bald head, a beard and chest hair – and all those other nasty things men have. I am both emotionally and erotically attracted to women, most successfully to those who are attracted to stereotypical men. Still, I want an X in my passport in the gender-section. What is the fuss all about?

When talking about gender, I find the genderbread model a very useful tool. The four aspects of gender are presented as slides on a scale; none of them are binary, and in all of us those slides are, for different aspects, set slightly differently in each of us. When I see, hear and meet people that have their slides all jumbled somewhere in the middle (or, for example, one to the female end, and one to the male end), I become ever more grateful that my slides are all almost at the same end. I do not envy those that have to struggle with a non-stereotypical mix; that struggle is hard, real hard. It is not easy to find out who you really are when you fit in the stereotypical gender box – it is exponentially harder if you don’t. Especially in a world still tailored for stereotypicality.

That struggle, though not enviable, is not what I want to talk about here. What I wonder more and more often, is the relevance of gender, anno 2022. When I go to hospital, it’s relevant whether I have the body of a man, or the body of a woman – or whether I’ve had my physical gender changed – for we have different physical ailments and subsequent treatments. When having sex, it’s relevant whether I have the body of a man, or a woman – or whether I’ve had my physical gender changed – for it matters what hole gets plugged, and who gets pregnant. That still does. But I can not for the life of me think of any other place or moment in the world where it is relevant. I am human, that’s all that counts.

When crossing a border, it is relevant that I am human, and not an endangered species – not yet, at least. Anno 2022, we all should be equal, right? Laws apply equally to both men and women, and any other gender? When I enroll at school, gender should not be relevant. Boys and girls have to pass the same standardized tests to get a diploma. Students at university all have to perform at the same level, regardless of their gender. When I apply for a job, in general it should not matter whether I am a man or a woman (I understand that a male waiter at Hooters would be strange, but for most jobs it shouldn’t matter).

I am human. My gender is irrelevant in any official business.

I do not struggle with my gender – not with my identity, attraction, expression or sex. I do not envy those who do struggle with this; I am very grateful it is not my struggle. I wouldn‘t know where to go. Life is hard enough as it is. I do, however, want an X in my passport. I would like my employer to – by default – register new students as gender 3 (it isn’t important). I expect this, not as some misplaced victory by the woke or lgbtqia+ movement. I want this, because when it comes to official business, gender is irrelevant.

I want an X in my passport.

Conatus scribo

Tags

Borse Code, sex

I’ve started a manuscript called Borse Code; it will eventually be a book in Dutch. Occasionally, on some Wednesdays, I will post chapters I’ve written here – in English – to see if they work. Let me know what you think, alright? The scene too long, too short, for a book?

These attempts are not in chronological order.

Just before the start of this excerpt, my protagonist and his long-time girlfriend have decided to rejoin the social-media circus for research-reasons (the topic of which I will not disclose now). While driving home on a warm summer’s night, he’s started to sign on to Facebook; she was driving. Then they arrive home…

While Sally greeted Darwin by cuddling the long haired Berner Sennen, Harry walked past them without looking away from his screen, and plopped down on the sofa. He had just strategically filled his profile with the research-specific details, when Sally sat on his lap; her bare knees next to him on the sofa, and her buttocks under her short skirt heavy on his knees. She took the phone from his hands, and put it on the table behind her, without taking her green eyes from his. Then she put her arms on his shoulders, grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. Harry kised her back, took hold of her buttocks under her skirt and pulled her closer. He started to grow in his pants, while she wiggled her hips. He pressed his head back into the sofa, with which he forced her to move forward and press her breasts into his chest, as they still locked lips, tongues entangled. His hands moved up, under her t-shirt, towards her bra, which he managed to loosen after a little while. They both laughed mentally at a reference to Charley Sheen – Harry would never be that good.

They disentangled their tongues and they each pulled their t-shirt over their own head, after which they continued kissing. Talking was unnecessary; they knew each other well enough. Her naked breasts pressing against his chest pushed the tension up a few notches. He caressed her back, where he felt slight irregularities due to her tattoo. He’d grown so hard by now, that he was sure she would’ve noticed his hard-on through her panties.

Today he took the next initiative. He sat up straight, which put her nipples right about the level of his mouth. Without skipping a beat he took one nipple in his mouth, and the other breast and nipple received manual stimulation. His other hand travelled back to her buttocks, which he relieved of her panties.

Just before his fingers reached her labia, she suddenly got up. She sensually wiggled her hips, dropping her skirt and panties to her toes. She stretched herself with her arms above her head, and stood there a moment graceful as a nymph in front of him. Appreciative, desiring her, he allowed his eyes to explore her body. Even though she wasn’t famous for her beauty, Harry was proud that he could call this beautiful woman his own; nobody knew her like he did.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

Immediately she dropped to her knees, blushing shyly, pulled his pants down and start to give head passionately. With a pleasure moan he fell back into the sofa, and indulged in the moment, cautiously aware that he shouldn’t come just yet. Quite some time before that happened, he pulled back, lifted her up, and put her on the sofa; her turn. She was already very wet when his tongue touched her for the first time that night. A slight shudder travelled through her body, and the sounds of pleasure filled the room. He knew her body well, and just before she orgasmed, he penetrated her. While he moved above and inside of her, she fixed his eyes with hers, and moaned uncontrollably. The tension in her eyes increased quickly until, suddenly, she came explosively.

As two satisfied rag dolls they lay spent on the sofa, together. He caressed her face, his fingertip following her hairline. She held him tightly around his torso, with both arms. Between them the heat was tangible. Sweat made for a slippery sensation. But the mutual flow of wordless emotions was too strong to let go just yet. Until Sally found her voice.

“If we’re going to do this, I want a strict agreement. If I ever have to take your phone from your hands to get your attention, we quit it.”