Bending Genders

Reading Time: 2 minutes
Sunday mornings always start on a lazy note, I wonder if my body maps the brain. But then it brings no respite from my daily chore of preparing bed- tea for Mr husband at an ungodly hour. With sleep taxed eyes as I head for the kitchen to do the needful, my thoughts start simmering in my top potful wit, wondering if we are accustomed to tasks by gender norms.
Children generally come to their first conclusion about their gender from their parents, since they are the first people, a child relates to.
Besides parents give children gender-specific toys, clothes, aspirations, expectations and subtly putting across the words, what is acceptable and not acceptable according to their gender type. Once they are raised into young boys and girls, they are already more dominant in their respective role. Once they are baked into different moulds, surprisingly they get pitted against each other on the same ground. How can you expect a girl to be technically sound when since childhood, she is trained to  be a homemaker, indulging her in dolls and house-play her dexterity is measured in holding  the knife to cut vegetables, to come with a welcome tray on guests arrival, to babysit younger siblings or take orders from older lots. On the other hand, a boy, more appropriately a brat, is raised infused with male chauvinist diet, listing
“its not manly to do household jobs, boys don’t cry”,
and cheering for their brash mannerism. Of course, some gender benders are there, who defy the norms and do the unacceptable. For that, they are ridiculed, as Tomboy girl or sissy boy. Surprisingly forgetting that men and women are from Earth only so when twain meet for a nuptial bond, they crash against a glass ceiling, falling into pieces along with their respective alter egos. This gender fight jumps to the altercation between female feminist and male chauvinist blaming each other for trespassing their respective breathing space.” Seething temperament boils over the sweetness of conjugal alliance to a bitter taste”.
With that my morning nectar comes to a simmer and I quickly put down the flame lest it spills over the leftover sweetness of my Sunday, this sizzling aromatic morning tonic is the lifeline of almost every household under the sun. World’ s best chefs may be the males only but in my small pad I peel the right pod and simmer the right pot. So without bending gender, I manage to beat the rival gender!
Copy of The Stockton Cafe.png