Trigger Warning: Discussions of sexual abuse and its effects

It’s been a while, but life has been life-ing, lol.

A few months ago, my sister and I were having a conversation about our family dynamic—the uniqueness of our siblings, our similarities, our differences, all that good stuff.

At one point, she said something that caught me off guard:
“You are unique in your own way because you don’t fit into the gender norm.”

I paused for a second, letting her words sit with me. I wasn’t offended—I had said this to myself many times before—but hearing someone else acknowledge it so plainly was different. It made me reflect.

The “Otherness” I Grew Up With

As mentioned in another post, growing up, I always thought differently, especially from the males around me.

I never subscribed to the idea that being a man meant dominating women, disrespecting them, or treating them as objects. I didn’t believe that aggression equaled strength. I was raised to respect women—to be chivalrous, open doors, pull out chairs—but beyond that, I had my own internal belief system about how people, in general, should be treated, ultimately challenging “toxic masculinity”.

Toxic masculinity is the belief system that pressures men to be emotionally stoic, aggressive, and dominant while devaluing qualities traditionally seen as feminine. This mindset not only restricts how men are “supposed” to behave but also creates an environment where anyone who deviates from that narrow mold is labeled and ostracized.

For the most part growing up, it was very difficult to find my community of males that shared similar ideologies with me. In school and communities I was a part of, I was often labeled a punk, sissy, gay, or simp just for thinking or acting differently. I was growing up in a space where toxic masculinity demanded toughness and emotional suppression, and my different, respectful way of interacting with the world clashed with those expectations. I guess it also didn’t help that most of my close friends were women. In their eyes, that was enough to disqualify me from the category of “real man.”

The Impact of Labels

The first time someone called me a sissy, I was too young to even understand what that meant. But I knew the way they said it was meant to insult me.

For a long time, I carried the weight of those words—not because I was ashamed of being different, but because I didn’t fully understand why I was different. My experiences (the world) told me that being a man meant toughness, emotional detachment, and sexual conquest. I had no interest in performing masculinity in that way, but the more I resisted, the more people labeled me.

There were moments where I wondered —Should I try harder to fit in? Should I change how I talk? Should I hang around more guys? Should I pretend I don’t care when I actually do? Overtime, I caved into the pressure and labels and tried to fit in, change my actions, and even started to believe what people said about me.

But as I grew up, I realized that I couldn’t be anything other than myself. And that realization came with both peace and struggle.

A Family Dynamic That Shaped Me

I was the fifth of six kids—three older brothers (10, 8 and 3 years my senior), and two sisters (4 years my senior and 4 years my junior). The brother closest in age to me didn’t grow up with us, so my sister became my first best friend. I was the classic impressionable little brother, willing to do anything for her.

My brothers were much older, so while we played games and hung out, I never fully related to them in the way I did with my sister. I was also a mama’s boy—always by her side, always defending her. At the time, gender wasn’t something I actively thought about. I wasn’t aware of what boys should do versus what girls should do.

But that changed when I started school.

The Moment I Became Aware of Gender Norms

Starting off in kindergarten and primary school at four or five years old, I was introduced to the school environment, where kids start repeating what they hear at home—“Boys don’t do that,” “That’s for girls.” (p.s. not directly at me). At that age, children absorb and mimic what they’re exposed to, and suddenly, I was being introduced to gender rules I never realized existed.

But that wasn’t the only thing shaping me at the time.

The Unspoken Trauma

Trigger Warning: Sexual abuse

Around that same age, I was molested by an older male teenager on an occasional basis for about a year. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening, only that something felt off. But I didn’t have the words or the knowledge to articulate it.

It wasn’t until I got older that I understood what had happened to me—not because it was “boy on boy,” but because I was a child being abused by someone who knew better and deliberately silenced me, taking away my innocence.

For years, I carried this experience without fully processing it. It shaped me in ways I didn’t recognize at the time—particularly in my comfort levels around men. Outside of my brothers and my best friend, I never truly felt safe around other men. My female friendships weren’t just a preference; they were a place of comfort, a space where I felt seen.

Not Fitting In—And Accepting It

So what does this have to do with gender norms?

Well, it’s complicated.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve observed societal expectations of men and women, and I’ve never agreed with them. I’ve seen men I know treat women in ways that made me vow never to be like them. That alone was enough to make me other—to be called “queer” long before I ever knew what queerness even meant.

My proximity to women solidified my worldview. It gave me a deeper understanding of them, of myself, and of the kind of person I wanted to be. At the same time, the trauma I experienced left me questioning my identity, believing the labels people threw at me, and wondering if they were right about me.

Redefining Masculinity on My Own Terms

As I transitioned into adulthood, I met people from all walks of life who challenged my assumptions and showed me that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone in my thinking, in my experiences, or in how society perceived me.

I came to realize that I am queer. Not necessarily in the way people assume, but in the way that I don’t fit into the rigid, outdated definitions of masculinity.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

• Masculinity is not about control, dominance, or emotional suppression.
• Vulnerability is not weakness.
• Caring about how you treat people doesn’t make you soft, it makes you human.

I no longer let other people define my masculinity for me. I am not less of a man because I reject certain norms, and I am not more of a man for challenging them. I simply am.

For Anyone Who Feels Like They Don’t Fit In

If you’ve ever felt like you don’t fit into society’s idea of what a man or a woman should be, you’re not alone.

If people have tried to label you, mold you, or pressure you into fitting a role that doesn’t feel authentic, know that their definition of you doesn’t have to become your definition of you.

You get to decide who you are.

It’s okay to be different. It’s okay to reject norms that don’t serve you. It’s okay to exist outside of categories that were never designed to include you in the first place.

You are enough just as you are.