I’m glad to have grown up the lone male in a house of amazing women – my mother, sister and, for a short-but-significant while, two sister-like close friends. As a consequence, I have always been deeply suspicious of traditional designations of gender norms and have tried to develop a strong sense of myself without leaning too heavily on the easy crutch of normative male privilege. (You-all can judge how well that’s going.) More importantly, I am one of the few men who reflexively returns the toilet seat to the down position. No one has ever accused me of failing to “get in touch with my feminine side.”
Until last week, that is.
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