It is an abstraction beyond reason that the gender should be confined to dichotomy,

without variation.

That which nature embraces; the wildflowers and woodland creatures.

There is beauty in variation.

There is wisdom in observation.

There are many differentiations.

The panther and the tiger are alike, are they not feline?

What of the tomato and the pomegranate, are they not fruits in their form?

Then in the museum, are the marble mournings of Hermes and Aphrodite not

humanlike?

Where is the line drawn?

You glance at the newborn, then to the Father, are these men?

What commonality can be derived in this vast disparity?

Your Mother and her Mother are alike in ways.

Have you ever seen the man in the mirror, the lady in the lake or the laird in the courtyard?

Then, what of eunuch priests, the epicine, the chaste?

There are women with beards, men with lipstick, others with everything.

Were these not people?

Who is the categorical vagabond in your story?

Could it be you?

Editor’s note: /ˈdʒɛndə/ is a phonetic transcription of how “gender” is pronounced, written in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA.)