Uncommon Curiosity

Kyle and I get one 30-minute phone call a day, which usually stretches a bit longer. We text. We chat. We send each other pictures.  We cam. Most Friday nights we talk on the phone after he goes out, when the tequila’s loosened his spine and put the swagger in his voice.

I write poetry and stories for him, and he responds with stories and, more and more, poetry of his own.

We talk, discuss, celebrate, love and live together amazingly well, considering we live 700 miles apart. He is wonderfully generous with himself, sharing his head and his heart with me every day. I get to see so much of this man, and it’s a joy. He is sexy and smart, funny and wise, caring, loving, easy-going, and very brave.

This week he wrote a piece on gender role-reversal. It’s something we’ve discussed more than once – despite the butch/femme dynamic others see, the two of us are far more complicated than a simple stereotype. I’m not particularly attached to gender, although I do so love the look in his eyes when I dress up like a girl, with stockings and heels and a skirt short enough to bring the growl up out of his belly. So I dress up in drag for him when we get together, even though my day-to-day wardrobe is far less feminine.  He, on the other hand, is very attached to gender, and loves the trappings of masculinity.  I’ve been witness to a beautiful renaissance in his life as he re-discovers and explores his male side and identity, and we’ve had deep, thoughtful conversations on gender and identity, our roles together, how we fit, how he fits in the world, and what it means to be, not male, not female, but gender queer.

Monday’s piece was difficult for him, for a number of reasons.  Growing up he was confronted by adults who couldn’t conceive of a butch tomboy as a daughter, and forced him into girly clothes and trappings.  Time and time again he was told that his feelings didn’t count, and, in fact, were shameful and wrong.  Even as an adult he’s had trouble navigating, for a long time avoiding the label “butch” because of various internal, and external, biases.  The man that you see now has been years in the making, and the thousands of steps he took to get here were both difficult and uncertain, without a map or guide to show the way.

So for him to write about losing some of that hard-won identity was brave.  To post it for the world to see – because, let’s be honest, writers are exposed through their writing as clearly, if not more so, than in mere photographs – that was an act of amazing courage.  Men in our culture are expected to be strong, unyielding, superhuman creatures.  One chink in the armor is seen as near-total downfall, and there are rarely any second chances to regain face.  Those who have only just begun to claim an identity have an even more tenuous relationship with gender – when it’s a struggle to simply be recognized as masculine, it’s far more dangerous to take a step out of line.

I’m proud of Kyle for having an open mind and taking a chance.  It was said that he’s wrapped around my finger, and that’s not so far off – he loves me dearly and would do just about anything for me.  But his willingness to open himself in this way speaks more to his character than to anything else.  He pushes himself to embrace challenge as he finds his way, to discard the voices that don’t serve him, and discover new ones to take their place.  He strives to be a clear voice for what he believes in, but still willing to listen to and respect others, in his search for his own truth.  He delights in helping others find their own paths, holding them up when they trip and celebrating every success.

And that, I think you’ll agree, is exactly what a man should be.