My Metaphorical Penis – Tools, Toys, and Identity4 min read

My gender and sex­u­ality are toys and tools to have fun with and to use to my advan­tage.

I think it’s because I was acci­den­tally raised with the enti­tle­ment of a straight-white-NT-man. This was the product of being the youngest of four chil­dren – two older sis­ters and a twin brother. My par­ents, being par­ents in the 80s, didn’t pay much atten­tion to the devel­op­ment of our gender or sex­u­ality, or indeed even basic stan­dards of health and safety. So by the time my par­ents got to my brother and me, we were raised as a pair of boys and left to get on with it.

I’ll be clear now: I don’t mask. I’ve never masked. We all know I’m unusual. If I tried to mask, it would be com­ical, like trying to pass off a gorilla as a giraffe. I’m too noisy, too chaotic, too inno­v­a­tive to pre­tend to be normal. I don’t have time for that.

Gender has never been any­thing I’ve had any angst about. I remember telling my mother that I wanted to be a boy, and her saying, “Alright, dear,” as she dealt with the mil­lion and one things a working mother of four does with her day. When I said the same to my father, I think he was relieved. He knew what he was doing with boys.

So I’ve never fit in with men or women. It wasn’t because I wasn’t very good at being a girl, or because I was never quite a boy, but because I wasn’t NT. This left me a lot of free time to work out the pat­terns in human behav­iour, the sub­groups they formed and on what cri­teria, the pol­i­tics and scheming, the tricks that worked and those that fell flat, and strate­gies by which I might get what I want out of any given sce­nario and have a laugh while I’m at it.

I don’t iden­tify as a man. But, I don’t iden­tify as a woman, either. Those are labels that encom­pass whole sec­tions of society, and I do not belong in any sec­tion of society. So gay, straight, bi, etc. don’t apply to me either except in describing my behav­iours. They do not inform my iden­tity. Because I am, simply, Me.

So when you don’t iden­tify with either gender, and you don’t iden­tify with any sex­u­ality, what are you to do?

Well, the same as I do with every other attribute I pos­sess: they become tools and toys.

Because there are advan­tages to be had from being either gender, and indeed, from being nei­ther gender, and from pre­senting an ambiguous sex­u­ality.

That straight-white-NT-male-entitlement means that I have always expected to be allowed to own the space I occupy. I have placed my size­able intel­lec­tual cock on every table in every room I have ever been in. It lands with a thud. When I speak, I expect to be lis­tened to, and that expec­ta­tion cre­ates the reality… which will never stop being fun and will always lend me power.

But I have a fem­i­nine soft­ness, too, and that makes me unthreat­ening. My aggres­sion is like that of a mother – always ready to pro­tect. That is a fine line to walk, but one that yields rewards.

The power attracts a lot of women without intim­i­dating them, it makes them feel safe. And I like women. I like flirting with women and sleeping with them. I like being adored by them. It makes me feel pow­erful. And it’s fun.

That power repels a lot of men, who seem not to appre­ciate the soft­ness for the virtue it is. Those who are repelled would only bore me anyway, so that’s a time-saver. The ones who value the soft­ness are the ones who will chase me. Which gives me power. And, it’s fun when I let them catch me.

As to being nei­ther gender, well… I mix in pro­fes­sional cir­cles pop­u­lated by lib­eral elites all falling over them­selves to prove they’re not prej­u­diced. So I get less shit than I might because they’re never sure if I’m trans or gay and there­fore never sure if they’re going to be accused of being a bigot if they say the wrong thing. Which is fun. The power dynamic in that sce­nario is obvious.

The world will posit of me var­ious gender and sex­u­ality labels. I can pick them up and put down on a whim or as and when they are useful to me – as they never belonged to me, because if they did it would mean I belonged to those groups.

So the only label I’ve ever iden­ti­fied with is Autistic. One that belongs to me, and a com­mu­nity I belong to, where my rela­tion­ships are not just useful and fun, but mean­ingful and inti­mate.

Labels are impor­tant, but they are ours to choose and for our own rea­sons. Whether tools or toys, or to put a name to some deeper part of our iden­ti­ties. I would encourage everyone to adopt those labels that are assets to who they are, who they want to be, what they want to do, and where they belong.

And whether your penis is metaphor­ical or oth­er­wise, do be sure to have fun with it.

1 Comment

  1. I guess we can be seen as a mosaic of labels with others choosing to point at that one that best suits them. You clearly have the smarts to present the label that best suits you. I like the con­fi­dence your aware­ness affords you. A chameleon, nice one!

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