The disrespectful words of the boys from my 4th grade; up until now, haunted me in all possible ways. A resounding echo consisting of who they perceived I was to be and the never-ending list of name callings.

They; being opined that I was an abomination or a glitch in the reproduction process, drew a conclusion that I was unfit to be regarded the same as they are; A BOY. Masculinity, they say, is attributively confined to certain inherent features and my lack of those postulated my disqualification to possess the title.

But they forget that a seed without a trace of its parental gene is illegitimate, and every being is a subset of a universal one.

In the name of societal definition of masculinity, we have been taught to embrace one half of our makeup and totally reject the other. To betray the 9 months-long maternal genes that co-formed and nurtured us.

Don’t get it twisted for this isn’t a quest for sexual rights, rather a test of the thesis that defines who a (fe)male is asides genital composition.

He has enormous backsides and certain girls have beards.

I am flamboyant, emotional and cheerful; always wearing a wild smile

She is bossy, not a makeup fan, neither does she wear her heart on her sleeves.

But do these necessarily have to transcribe tagging us outcasts?

Who actually defined gender composition?

The silent war this continues to wage remains latent but fatal.