by Shivee Chauhan
Save yourself the trouble. Don’t call me effeminate when I dress up, put makeup on or wear a sexy pair of heels. Don’t think that just because I am soft-spoken, and I don’t raise my voice, I am more feminine-like. Don’t be fooled into thinking that being in a committed relationship makes me more of a woman. Don’t be under the false impression that me wanting to have kids has anything to do with being more in tune with my maternal side. Don’t assume that my abstinence depicts my girlish mannerisms.
Don’t call me “manlike” when I ask for a whiskey on the rocks at the bar. I might like to play video games and I might be a huge football fan, and fuck yeah, I might be a football player. I might prefer the blue shirt more than the pink one. Don’t call me a whore if I hook up with more guys than you’d think. Don’t get alarmed if I don’t have any motherly instincts.
Even better, I might be a soldier on the field fighting the enemies—but this doesn’t make me manly.
But most of all, don’t compare me to that ex of yours, or to the model on the cover page of GQ, or to your hot neighbor. Don’t try to make me jealous.
Don’t push me into the ring for this brawl none of us agreed to, none of us are interested in. Save yourself the trouble.
Don’t try to mold me into this socially defined framework of gender specific roles, and don’t try to define me by my sex. I am not just the body that I am in; I am much more. I am the stars and the galaxy. I am boundless; I am the universe and everything in it.
Shivee Chauhan is a Management Consultant based out of New York City. She is an avid blogger and a fashion enthusiast. She loves to talk about love and relationships and has been training in Egyptian classical belly dance for quite some time. She likes to travel to destinations with beaches and margaritas.