Kai Teo changed her profile picture – Why I’m a “she” on Facebook

By Kai
Photos: Styling & Design: Dana Stojakovic , kazoom  Photographer: Helena Poneli 

I have a penis. And I love it. But I’ve chosen “female” as my gender on Facebook.

I wear dresses, nail polish, and have shampoo-commercial long hair that many girls are jealous of. I love flowers, pink unicorns, long necklaces, and cry during movies. But it had never always been like this.

Growing up in a very traditional Chinese family, gender roles have been very specifically dealt out to me. As a boy, I never wore pink, played with guns instead of dolls, watched He-Man instead of My Little Pony, and was told, “Boys don’t cry”.

I believed in everything that the society has decided as manly. I wore shirts, suits, had short hair, short nails, trained for a gym body and ran marathons and shit like that.

But when I figured that this “ideal” picture of what a man is, as prescribed by today’s society and its popular culture, was merely a shallow construct, I decided to fuck with it.

The majority of everyone I’ve grown up with has unquestioningly accepted this neatly packaged “man” deal. Over the years, it hasn’t changed much. Popular websites such as Buzzfeed and Thought Catalog often publish articles that go along the lines of “10 signs you’ve found an ideal man”, or “How to be a real man”.

You see, there’s too much talk on the internet, and everyday life, that reinforces gender stereotypes. Right from the moment we pop out of our mothers’ vaginas, we’ve been constantly bombarded with “boys = blue, girls = pink” bullshit.

There’s really not much place for the traditional image of the male homosapien in today’s society. It made sense back in the days when our survival depended on our physical strength – men hunted, women gathered.

The requirements of tribal life dictated our gender roles. Darwin’s theory of natural selection told us that the dude (let’s call him Max) who refused to go hunting and preferred to stay in his hut and weaved baskets didn’t get laid. When Max didn’t go hunting, Bob, Peter, and the rest of the dudes had to do more work to bring home enough bunnies for dinner. And the tribe had too many beautifully weaved baskets that were stacking up in the storeroom, collecting dust and mites.

So yes, Max had no choice but to go hunting. The womenfolk figured that his expert basket weaving skills was not gonna feed their babies, even though they kinda thought his fingers must have been amazing, so they didn’t really consent to his repeated proposals for sexual intercourse through elaborate gestures of presenting hearts weaved from leaves and trademarked bracelet designs.

Max, at best, got a blowjob.

But in today’s world, such display of masculinity is not only out-dated, but completely unnecessary.

Both women and men can perform the tasks of food hunting, which involves cutting out coupons, navigating the complex supermarket aisles, and picking the right brand of processed meat or vegetables.

To enable this life-threatening chore, we need money. And in the developed world, the array of jobs available kinda eliminates the need for gender-specific strengths, given proper maternity benefits.

You don’t even need big muscles to be a security guard. You just need a fucking taser, a general thirst for violence and uncontrolled desire for power. That’s gender blind.

So why are we still sticking to the primitive concept of gender roles?

All that defines my gender is my beloved penis and my choice to keep it. Everything else is a free-for-all orgy.

Which, to the dismay of my rather conservative parents, is a gorgeous, glittery, rainbow-coloured world of possibilities for me. Every fingernail I paint, every breeze I feel up my skirt, every time I flick my hair in your face, I say a big “fuck you” to the wholesale consumption of senseless gender roles, and the mindless acceptance of prescribed societal constructs and its according lifestyle.

This is the glorious age of humanity (only in this sense, everything else about us is kinda fucked up) where we have the right to fight for free expression and be who we truly are. Wear whatever you wanna wear, smell whichever way you wanna smell, grow hair wherever you desire.

And anytime you feel alone, there is always a Facebook group that you can join to find others with the same issues, be it “Men who wear heels and climb hills (459 members)” or “Women who have armpit hair, but only on the right side (4,229 members)”.

Today’s “manliness” is no longer defined by the number of inches of your biceps, or the amount you can bench. It’s about having the balls to stand up against senseless societal values that no longer apply to the world of the future and the next wave of human evolution.

Cross-dressing (make sure you’re happy doing it), sustainable unemployment (somehow managing to get by happily without working for some cash-churning company), and the rejection of the institute of marriage, are all examples of how we can fuck with the system and push for a more advanced human society that is more sustainable for all living species, and the planet in general. And that, is today’s new sexy. Gym rats, time to drop your dumbbells and wear pretty bells.

I’m not saying painting your nails will change the world. But it will, hopefully, trigger the long-awaited questioning of gender, society, and today’s sick mentality of the human race.

And the best kick of all? Every time a “manly man” comes up to me, throws me an insult regarding my “femininity”, and I reply, “I still get more pussy than you.”

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