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masculinity has nothing to do with identity

Today I baked banana bread.

It is a vegan, gluten free version of banana bread.

It is bloody delicious!

The reason I eat vegan and gluten free for most of the week is that wheat, sugar and meat aggravate my arthritis and sinuses. It is that simple.

My favourite utensils in the home are my Thermomix, Soda Stream and Nespresso coffee maker.

I cannot turn a screw or hammer a nail.

Building stuff bores me to tears.

I do all the cooking.

Cooking and baking relaxes me.

Yet I am still a man.

Flowers turn a room into a fragrant garden and can lift a low mood.

I give my wife roses every week.

For no reason other than an expression of love.

Love songs make me cry and my version of torture is watching any reality TV.

I gave up drinking alcohol decades ago.

Beer and wine smell like poison, so give me an Italian sparkling mineral water any day.

I wear pink business shirts and bright socks are a preference.

Yet I am still a man.

My two greatest annoyances are wire coat hangers and putting out the rubbish.

Wire coat hangers become tangled and possessed.

Oh and aggressive middle aged cyclists can be a concern.

Love the fact that people exercise on bikes just hold the false bravado and aggression.

In fact, exercise is a huge part of my routine.

Stretching, lifting weights, boxing and body surfing are fun, but again hold the male ego and testosterone.

Nothing to prove and too old to bother.

Love to read and write and an afternoon snooze is a blessing.

Really enjoy my Rugby League and Cricket.

I bleed red and green for the mighty South Sydney Rabbits.

Yet I am still a man.

My socialist buddies who protest climate change and attend the theatre and art galleries cannot understand my passion for rugby league.

It is barbaric in their eyes.

But I am a climate supporter and have more tertiary degrees than an art gallery full of Rembrandts.

Go figure!!

And I love the Dutch visualist, but like the master I enjoy a plethora of content, style and stimulation.

Rembrandt was criticized because he had the potential to dilute his genius with too much interpretation.

But for me, who cares!

He was expressing his love of art and creation.

And he was still a man.

The point of all this?

We are who we are and what you think of me does not matter.

We are all different and our difference is our greatest strength.

So why do we have to classify and categorise?

Gender this.

Culture that.

Religion or no religion.

Left or right.

Gay or straight.

Our need to judge and gossip overrides our desire to love.

And that is a real shame.

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