Six Qualities and Twelve Men I Admire: Positive Thoughts for International Men’s Day

We are all perfectly imperfect.

— Fran Houston

Observed each year on November 19, International Men’s Day (IMD) celebrates the positive value men bring to the world, their families and communities, and raises awareness of men’s health and well-being. The theme for 2024 is “Positive Male Role Models.” As I explained in a 2022 article on gender identity, I’ve never been big on heroes or role models. I nevertheless explored my relationship with some of the most influential men in my life. These included my father, uncles, one of my male cousins, as well as two characters from fiction: Sam Gamgee (JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings) and Jimmy Perez from the TV detective series Shetland. I’ve also written about four men who inspire me in different ways: my son Michael Baker, Johnny Benjamin MBE, and friends Quinn Brown and Peter McDonnell.

I covered less savoury aspects of what it means to be a man in last year’s IMD post: Big Boys Cry Too: Challenging Toxic Masculinity for International Men’s Day. The question of toxic masculinity raises the counter question: what is non-toxic masculinity? I came across a short video recently by Steve Bartlett in which he challenged the concept on the basis that behaviours people consider non-toxic such as caring, empathy, and nurturing are conventionally attributed to women. Furthermore, healthy expressions of traditionally male traits such as competitiveness, ambition, courage, and strength are valid irrespective of gender. “Non-toxic masculinity is basically an empty set,” Bartlett claimed. “[Masculinity] is either bad, or nothing.”

I have some sympathy for this perspective. I don’t see men and women require different sets of “good” and “bad” behaviours. I might struggle to define “good” and “bad” behaviours (moral relativism is a topic for another time) but there’s no reason a person’s ability to demonstrate them need depend on their gender, no matter how that’s defined or attested. Rather than write about positive male role models, I’ve decided to pick six qualities and behaviours I admire in others and endeavour to emulate. I’ll illustrate each with men who for me exemplify those qualities and behaviours. I’m confident each of the people I include would affirm or have affirmed their gender as male, but that is an assumption on my part.

The qualities and behaviours are: Independent Thought, Effective Communication, Assertiveness and Self-Confidence, Open Enquiry and Respectful Disagreement, Leadership and Endurance, and Devotion and Sacrifice. The men I’ve chosen to illustrate these are: Sir Roger Penrose, Sam Harris, Albert Camus, James Grime, Neil Degrasse Tyson, Brian Cox, Sir David Attenborough, Christopher Hitchens, Alex O’Connor, Robert Falcon Scott, Sir Ernest Shackleton, and Anatoli Boukreev.

Independent Thought

Sir Roger Penrose, Sam Harris, Albert Camus

I find independent thinkers refreshing. By that, I mean people prepared to go beyond what is considered conventional or convenient truth. I’ve selected three men who in different ways have helped me challenge my beliefs and assumptions.

The first is British mathematician, physicist, and Nobel Laureate, Sir Roger Penrose. I can’t claim to have more than a (very) sketchy grasp of his contributions to mathematics, science, and philosophy. The aspect of his work which has caught my attention and interest is conformal cyclic cosmology (CCC). It’s a theory which proposes that the ultimate fate of the current universe is — or will be, after unthinkably long periods of time have elapsed — equivalent to the the start of the next. According to CCC, this cyclicity extends not only into the future, but into the past. The big bang in which our current universe began was conformally equivalent to the ultimate fate of the previous universe. CCC is not without its critics, but for me the point is less the objective truth of a given theory, and more its value in encouraging us to think in new ways.

My second example is American philosopher and neuroscientist Sam Harris. His work encompasses religion, ethics, neuroscience, psychedelics, and artificial intelligence amongst others, but it’s his proposition that free will is an illusion that engages me most. So much of how we operate as individuals and how society works is based on the assumption that we have free will. That is, we are more or less free to decide what we will do and say, and are thus to be held responsible for our decisions and actions. The idea that free will is an illusion is intellectually and ethically challenging, to say the least.

My third example is French-Algerian philosopher Albert Camus. I’ve written about Camus previously, focusing on his philosophy of Absurdism. In brief, Camus describes as absurd the contradiction between our inbuilt search for purpose and meaning and the universe’s lack of response on the matter. I find the brutal realism of Absurdism liberating, not least because it validates and explains how I’ve felt most of my life. Rather than falling into nihilism, Absurdism challenges us to find our personal sense of purpose and delight in life, without looking for it beyond ourselves.

Effective Communication

James Grime, Neil Degrasse Tyson, Brian Cox, David Attenborough

Having great ideas is one thing, but being able to communicate them effectively is a separate skill. We all remember that one teacher at school who engaged us in their specialist subject, or the co-worker who could always be relied on to explain the difficult bits. My first example is mathematician and public speaker James Grime, best known through the Numberphile YouTube channel. His enthusiasm and excitement is unrivalled, and a delight to watch, whatever your level of interest and knowledge of mathematics.

In the area of science and cosmology, I include American astrophysicist and science communicator Neil Degrasse Tyson, and English physicist and broadcaster Brian Cox (the latter is not to be confused with either the Scottish actor or the American film director, both of the same name). I personally find Brian Cox hard to watch, but there’s no doubt he’s an accomplished communicator. Tyson can come across as condescending but I find him eminently watchable.

My final example is Sir David Attenborough. The veteran broadcaster, natural historian, author, and presenter needs little introduction. The seminal nine part Life series and documentaries including The Blue Planet and Planet Earth brought the wonder of the natural world — and the impact of human society on it — to a world-wide audience.

Assertiveness and Self-Confidence

Christopher Hitchens

Assertiveness and self-confidence are valuable qualities when employed to ensure our voice, opinions, and warnings are heard. As the saying goes, “Shy bairns get nowt.” This proverb, popular in the North East of England, reminds us that if we’re too shy, or don’t speak up, we won’t get what we want. Someone who could never be described as a shy bairn is (was, he died in December 2011) Christopher Hitchens. Born in England, Hitchens emigrated to the United States in the 1980s and adopted dual citizenship. He was a prolific writer, journalist, and educator. I first came across him a few years ago in his role as one of the so-called “four horsemen” of New Atheism, along with Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and Daniel Dennett. I’ve watched many of Hitchens’ public debates, discussions, and conversations. His approach could be described as combative and unrelenting. The term “hitch-slapped” arose amongst his admirers to label occasions when he used his formidable wit and encyclopedic knowledge to put down his debating opponents. I discovered Hitchens at a time when I was exploring my own relationship with atheism, politics, and world affairs. I don’t agree with him on all points, but his anti-religion, anti-monarchy, and pro-democracy positions affirm many of my own.

More than his specific beliefs, though, it’s Hitchens’ self-confidence and willingness to put those beliefs to the test against other — and often extremely hostile — opinions which I most admire. He rejoiced in being, in Jeremy Paxman’s words, a contrarian and polemicist, asserting in a 2010 interview that “only division can bring progress.” Challenged by Paxman on his uncompromising atheist and anti-religion stance, Hitchens claimed “One of the beginnings of human emancipation is the ability to laugh at authority.” I respect Hitchens also for his attitude regarding his own approaching death from throat cancer. In that same interview, he stated “I’m not afraid of being dead. I’m afraid of a sordid death. [...] I feel a sense of waste about it, because I’m not ready. I feel a sense of betrayal to my family and to some of my friends who would miss me.” As I begin exploring end of life planning and legacy for myself, his matter-of-fact approach to death, and his refusal to succumb to mawkish sentimentality or religious bet-hedging sets a high yet potentially reachable bar. To the end, Hitchens was unapplogetically himself. I could wish no finer obituary for myself.

Open Enquiry and Respectful Disagreement

Alex O’Connor

Where Christopher Hitchens was abrasive and confrontational, Alex O’Connor exemplifies the qualities of open enquiry and respectful disagreement. I first came across Alex a few years ago, through his YouTube channel Cosmic Skeptic. His videos cover topics that interest me a great deal, including philosophy, atheism, free will, ethics, and morality. His many guests, opponents, and discussion partners have included William Lane Craig, Jordan Peterson. Sam Harris, Ben Shapiro, and Richard Dawkins. Through all of these conversations, discussions, and debates, I’ve never heard Alex raise his voice or appear angry or aggressive. He has a refreshing ability to hold his ground in the face of challenge, yet remain open, curious, and respectful towards contrary argument. In an age where so much is presented to us in soundbites as black or white, right or wrong, yes or no, Alex reminds me that things are rarely simple or clear-cut. He exemplifies a gentle yet nonetheless intellectually honest and rigourous approach to issues that matter to me a great deal.

Leadership and Endurance

Robert Falcon Scott, Ernest Shackleton

I’ve been interested in polar exploration since childhood, when I was gifted a small book about the exploits of Robert Peary, Robert Falcon Scott, Roald Amunsen, and Ernest Shackleton. Of these, Shackleton and Scott still stand for me as exemplars of leadership and endurance. Scott is a controversial figure. He’s often characterised as a romantic hero cheated of his prize by fate (and Amunsen) yet ultimately victorious in the noblest tradition of epic failure. Revisionist historians portray him as a naive and foolish amateur whose poor decisions endangered his expedition and led to the death of the final party of five, including Scott himself. Whatever the truth of the matter, it’s clear he was an inspirational leader able to encourage and motivate those under his command though adversities that would paralyse others.

My awareness of Sir Ernest Shackleton is based on the 2002 TV miniseries Shackleton starring Kenneth Branagh in the title role. It tells the story of his 1914 expedition on the ship Endurance, the intention being to cross the Antarctic continent from one side to the other. After overwintering on the ice, the Endurance sank, forcing Shackleton to lead his men on what would prove to be a journey fully worthy of their former ship’s name. After months floating on the ice and five days at sea, the party reached Elephant Island but discovery and rescue were unlikely. With five companions, Shackleton undertook a harrowing fifteen day journey in the one remaining lifeboat, eventually reaching South Georgia. Crossing the island on foot to reach the whaling station, Shackleton raised the alarm. All twenty-two men left behind on Elephant Island were eventually rescued, after a total of four and a half months. Despite failing in his goal to cross the Antarctic continent, Shackleton’s adventure remains one of the most staggering tales of courage, leadership, and perseverance in the face of apparently overwhelming odds.

Devotion and Sacrifice

Anatoli Boukreev

The sixth behaviour I admire can be described as devotion and sacrifice, putting one’s own situation aside temporarily in order to help someone in need. I say temporarily, because always putting other people’s needs before our own is unhealthy, exhausting, and ultimately unsustainable. Shackleton would have served as a great example, but the person I’ve chosen is the late Soviet and Kazakh climber Anatoli Boukreev. Anyone familiar with the 2016 movie Everest which covers the 1996 Mount Everest disaster, will recall Boukreev’s role as lead guide for the Mountain Madness expedition headed by Scott Fischer. After blizzards closed in, Boukreev rescued three climbers stranded above 8,000 metres. His behaviour and choices that day have been the subject of considerable controversy, most notably in the account of the disaster in Jon Krakauer’s book Into Thin Air. I’m ill equiped to dissect the rights and wrongs of the situation, but Boukreev was subsequently awarded the David A. Sowles Memorial Award by the American Alpine Club. The award recognizes people “who have distinguished themselves, with unselfish devotion at personal risk or sacrifice of a major objective, in going to the assistance of fellow climbers imperiled in the mountains.” Boukreev died three weeks after receiving the award, attempting to climb the south face of Annapurna.

Conclusion and Controversy

Many of the men I’ve mentioned have been considered controversial, or worse. This is one of the reasons I struggle with the concept of heroes or role-models. We’re all flawed, some more so than others. It’s also true that we only ever know people partially, especially the famous or apperently successful. Holding someone up exhibiting behaviours or attitudes we admire — as I have done here — doesn’t mean we think they’re perfect. It would be wrong to assume I agree with or admire these men in all aspects of their life, beliefs, thinking, and behaviours.

I’ve mentioned some of these controversies and flaws already. It wasn’t hard to find others. Sam Harris has been accused of Islamophobia. Albert Camus’ life and writing are frequently categorised as colonialist and sexist. In 2018 Neil Degrasse Tyson was accused of rape and inappropriate sexual advances. David Attenborough has been criticised for promoting an overly romanticised view of the natural world, and for his warnings on the impact of overpopulation and other human activities on the environment. Christopher Hitchens has been variously condemned for his heavy drinking, bigotry, antisemitism, support for the military invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, and his ascerbic criticism of such prominent figures as Mother Theresa, President Bill Clinton, and Henry Kissinger. Ernest Shackleton has been described “as a deeply flawed man, a poorly-organised adventurer obsessed with fame and wealth, a congenital womaniser who habitually cheated on his wife, and whose repeated business failures left him the equivalent of £1.5million in debt when he died.”

It might seem as though there are no positive male role models to be had, and that’s partly my purpose in writing this piece. Rather than putting people — regardless of their gender — on pedestals, we do better to acknowledge when they exhibit behaviours and attitudes we admire, hold them to account where they fall short, but above all remember that like us they are human, complex, and perfectly imperfect.

 

Photo by Dawid Zawiła at Unsplash.

 

Being a Man: Exploring My Gender Identity for International Men's Day

My pronouns are he/him/his.

Observed each year on November 19, International Men’s Day (IMD) celebrates the positive value men bring to the world, their families and communities, highlighting positive role models and raising awareness of men’s well-being, including mental health. I shared some general thoughts on connection and conversation for IMD last year. This time, I thought I’d go a little deeper, and explore what being a man means to me.

That should be pretty easy, right? I’ve had sixty-one years to figure out what being a guy is all about. Oddly enough, it’s proven a lot harder than I imagined. It’s not that I’ve ever felt misgendered, or unhappy at being thought of as male. I’ve worn my gender identity all my life, albeit without thinking much about it. I was a boy. I am a man. But what does that mean?

Let’s start with International Men’s Day itself. Do I feel it’s for and about me? Does it resonate? It does, yes. Last year was the first time I’d engaged with IMD, building on work I’d done earlier in the year exploring aspects of my mental health in articles such as Return to Down and This Boy Gets Sad Too, and men’s mental health in general. I attended a series of sessions at work organised for IMD last November, one of which focused on men’s physical health. It prompted me to face concerns I’d had for some time, and arrange my first GP appointment in thirty years. I’m glad to say the tests, for prostate cancer, came back negative, but it brought home to me the realities of living with this biologically male body.

For me, though, being a man isn’t just a matter of biology. Trans women and non-binary people who were assigned male at birth are also at risk of prostate cancer and other “men’s health” concerns. Conversely, a trans man might have physical health issues that I never will. Maleness has nothing to do with sexual or romantic preference, either. I’ve only ever been attracted to women, but I’d be no less — and no more — a man if I was gay, bisexual, or asexual.

My gender says nothing about me as a person. I’m no better or worse, more or less worthy, as a male than if I was female, nonbinary, or agender. That said, I’d be naive to imagine my gender hasn’t influenced my route through life or how I’ve been treated. I’ve never experienced discrimination because of my gender, been held back, or otherwise treated poorly. The fact I spent most of my adult life ignorant about male privilege speaks volumes. It was easier to be ignorant because it had never affected me personally.

I mentioned romantic and sexual relationships, but what about friends? A recent newspaper article asserts that men have few meaningful friendships, quoting counsellor and psychotherapist Adrian Wilson-Smith:

There are a lot of men having functional relationships with other men – I know this guy because he can help me out with my business idea. Or partying – these are the guys that I go out with for a drink or a line of coke. But enduring friendships, of the kind seen in many female-to-female friendships, are not something that most men over forty see any need to have.

I have good functional relationships with men in the workplace, but I’ve never had party buddies of the kind Wilson-Smith describes. I definitely still have a need for caring and mutually supportive friendships, but those I have are almost all with women. Indeed, I’ve had very few male friends since I was at university. I can no longer claim to be a young man but I’m reminded of a quotation by Leo Tolstoy: “Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women.” I’ve no idea how common it is nowadays for men to have meaningful friendships with women, but the newpaper article only mentions same gender friendships: men with men or women with women.

International Men’s Day is founded on six key pillars “which are applied equally to men and boys irrespective of their age, ability, social background, ethnicity, sexuality, gender identity, religious belief and relationship status.” If manhood can encompass all those differences, there must be something that men have in common. But what? This question is important to me because despite being a man, I feel little sense of commonality with most other men, or with men in general. This isn’t new. As I wrote in Belonging (Longing to Be) I’ve never truly felt part of things.

More often than not I’ve been an outsider looking in through the window. [...] Our gender group is arguably the most fundamental belonging, but it’s eluded me. I’ve had very few adult male friends, and little of “what men are supposed to like” resonates for me.

I watch TV adverts for “men stuff” — razors, body spray, shampoo — with amusement because I relate to very little of it. (I prefer Head and Shoulders Supreme Moisture or Smooth and Silky shampoos to the Men Ultra or Classic Clean varieties. This may or may not have anything to do with me fancying Claudia Winkleman, who fronts the H&S adverts.) I’ve never felt at home in what are traditionally seen as men’s spaces or activities such as football (playing or watching), men’s clubs, or communities centred on formerly male-dominated industries such as mining or shipbuilding. Even ordering at the bar was a man skill that eluded me until quite recently. This is important because initiatives to help and support men tend, understandably, to focus on the places men go and the things men do. Except, I don’t go to those places, and I don’t do those things.

I’ve written before of peer-led groups such as Andy’s Man Club, which runs “talking groups throughout the UK for men who have either been through a storm, are currently going through a storm or have a storm brewing in life.” In similar vein, Men’s Sheds organises “community spaces for men to connect, converse and create.[...] They help reduce loneliness and isolation, but most importantly, they’re fun.” I recognise the value of such groups. I’ve even thought of seeking out a group near me. I’m nevertheless put off by the very thing that’s meant to attract me: their male-centredness. I might surprise myself if I gave it a go, but I imagine I’d struggle to relate to other members on a man-to-man basis.

All that said, I do feel I’m making progress. I identify strongly and instinctively with the message and marketing of Boys Get Sad Too, a fashion brand working for positive change. I wear my BGST hoodie with pride. It’s one aspect of “being a man” which, for some reason, I feel able to embrace wholeheartedly. That brings up the question of dress and appearance. How much does how I dress and present myself align with and express my sense of being a man? My beard is a bit of a giveaway, but then again, that’s biology not gender. In the past I’ve grown it in full Gandalf style. These days I keep it trimmed close. That may be vanity. I feel better and imagine myself looking better this way. I wear my (Smooth and Silky™) hair as long as it will grow. Long hair is important to how I see myself and I can’t imagine cutting it voluntarily. Does it make me look less, or more, “manly”? I don’t know and don’t really care. I tell myself that CSNY would approve.

I don’t believe clothes, colours, and styles are inherrently gendered, but I dress in a manner unlikely to leave anyone guessing. Most of the time I wear t-shirts and cargo pants, which are pretty much unisex, but my coats and jackets are more conventionally male. My favourite item of clothing is the Scottish tweed jacket I picked up second hand a few years ago. I’d be hard pressed to explain why but, as with my BGST hoodie, I feel good about myself the moment I put it on.

I’ve never had heroes or role models, but I’ve been thinking about some of the key men there have been in my life. I knew neither of my grandfathers, but my father and two uncles exemplified different aspects of maleness as I was growing up. I’ve written about my father before; briefly in a passage excerpted from our book High Tide Low Tide, and at greater length in an open letter. The latter, written decades after his death, captures the essence of our relationship. He was the head of the household. He was never overly strict or authoritarian, but he wasn’t open with his feelings. I loved and respected him, but I never knew him. As I wrote, “I have no idea how you felt about your life. Or your death.”

My father was distribution manager at Distillers Company Ltd. In Liverpool. I remember him taking me into his office one Saturday. I was perhaps nine or ten years old. I was fascinated by the high desks with their rows of typewriters but I never wanted to follow his choice of career. His love of Western movies was a different matter. I desperately wanted to be a cowboy; or failing that, to drive a steam locomotive like Alan Hale’s character Casey Jones in the television series of that name. Needless to say, my dreams of being a cowboy or a locomotive engineer went unfulfilled.

My father’s brother John — Uncle Jack — was an architect and pipe smoker. Those are the first things that come to mind when I think about him. Pipe smoking might be considered a quintessentially male activity, but the only other pipe smoker I’ve known was a woman I worked with in London after graduating from university. I’ve never smoked a pipe, cigarettes, or anything else, but Uncle Jack’s pipe and the paraphernalia that went with it fascinated me. He gave me a smoker’s companion: a three piece tool that slid inside a narrow metal case. I loved technical drawing at school and harboured ideas of becoming an architect like Uncle Jack until I switched allegiance to follow the biological sciences. He gifted me one of his draftsman’s mechanical pencils, a Rotring technical drawing pen, and a fully-rigged model of the Mayflower. I wasn’t his only nephew but he and my Auntie Elsie had no children of their own; a rarity in my extended family. It’s possible he saw me as a child after his own heart.

My mother had four sisters and two brothers, all but one of whom lived locally. Uncle Charlie was married to my mother’s sister Clarice (Cal). I enjoyed visiting their narrow terraced house with its sliding door leading to the staircase, its paved back yard, and the rail line running no more than twenty feet from their back gate. Most of all, I loved Uncle Charlie’s shed. He was a joiner by trade, and his shed was an Alladin’s Cave of tools, wood shavings, sawdust, half-finished projects, and glass jars holding an assortment of nails, screws, paint brushes, and other treasures. He was the archetypal artisan and craftsman who earned his living with his hands but also put his skills to use for the pleasure of himself and his family. He had a wonderful sense of humour, a permanent twinkle in his eye, and I think of him now with great fondness.

Another man who influenced me was the second husband of one of my cousins. I didn’t know him well but I remember how devoted and caring he was to my cousin and her daughters from her first marriage. That devotion served as a template or model of a caring husband and father when, many years later, I became first a step-father and then a father. I make the distinction deliberately. I’ve never understood how anyone can view their step, foster, or adopted children as any less than or different from their biological offspring. I can express it no better than this answer posted on Quora in response to the question Do you think you could ever love your step-child as much as you love your actual child?

My stepdaughter IS my actual child.

So is my adopted son.

So is my biological son.

I’m their Dad and earned that title by reading to them, feeding them, helping them with schoolwork, playing with them, listening to their troubles, caring for them when they were sick, transporting them hither and yon, and taking daily delight in having them in my life.

The notion that any of my flavors of parentage aren’t “actual” is absurd.

— Andrew Weill

I’ve written elsewhere about four men I respect, including my son Mike. Two of the people I most admire in the mental health community are men. In the realm of fiction, Samwise (Sam) Gamgee from J. R. R. Tolkien’s epic fantasy novel The Lord of the Rings exemplifies aspects of the steadfast and caring friend for me. Played by Douglas Henshall, Detective Inspector Jimmy Perez in the British television crime drama Shetland is one of very few male roles I’ve ever identified with or wanted to emulate. I wrote about him in an article titled Being Jimmy Perez: Shetland and the Art of Listening.

What struck me is how good Perez is with people going through crisis and change. (He is less good with his own crises and changes, but isn’t that the way of things? The series closes with a hint he may finally be finding a way forward.) Whether interviewing a suspect, talking with witnesses, confronting a violent crime boss, or engaging with colleagues, his stepdaughter, or a new lover, Jimmy Perez is usually calm and measured, although he can be assertive when necessary. He doesn’t always get it right but he owns his mistakes. He comes across as honest, genuine, and caring. He is someone you’d feel safe with.

Those final sentences express how I hope I’m perceived, as a person and as a man. Honest, genuine, and caring. Someone you feel safe with, emotionally as well as physically. These qualities are not the prerogative of men, of course. Maybe I’ve been asking the wrong question all along. What’s most important about Jimmy Perez, Sam Gamgee, my father, my uncles, or my cousin is surely not their maleness, but their character. I couldn’t care less whether they are sufficiently “manly.” What matters is their — and my — integrity, compassion, and goodness. No matter our gender, isn’t that what’s most precious and important about each of us?

Over to You

While writing this piece, I asked a number of people what their gender means to them. None found it easy to answer. I posed the question on social media, and received the following responses.

[To me it means] living life through understanding. (Paul)

I’ve said to many men over the years ... “Want to be a better man? Start thinking like a woman.” I do that! Mental alertness and intuition are the defining experiences of this time we live in and women are stronger in those than men! (Paul)

I’ve never given it much thought except when gender prevents a lack of opportunity for equality. I think the glass ceiling has lowered a bit but has to descend further. I’m thrilled to be part of the gender able to experience the miracle of giving birth ... then get those men back beside me to continue the journey. (Maureen)

It’s strange. Tonight, as I was out to dinner, I felt inadequate. I don’t wear make up or cutesy boots with tops and scarves. I don’t attract boys because I’m a tomboy, I think. I’m not very girly at all. I don’t wear heels or dresses unless I’m going to a funeral or a wedding. So, I’m a feminine? I don’t know exactly. From a male’s perspective, probably not. Then again — like you, Marty — I have never been group-oriented. I walk my own way. I have tremendous intuition, which feels like a great gift and at other times, a curse. I identify as a girl but I’m not typical at all. I’m fussy about my hair! I don’t paint my nails. You get the idea. In recent years, I’ve learnt a little bit about the divine feminine ... the female aspect of God. It seems fitting that there is a female counterpart to a very male God. I feel we need a balance, because we all matter and I think at our best, males, females or whomever, are sacred regardless of gender. (Brynn)

What does your gender mean to you? Do you have role models? Who are they and what do they represent to you? I’d love to hear your thoughts and ideas, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photo by Andrew Neel at Unsplash.