It seems like an odd sounding thing to receive. But, every once in a while, for us men with feminine dispositions, our ears become receptors to a mildly irritating question: why are you acting like a girl? Sometimes, it’s a benign question; the intent of the questioner is fueled only by curiosity. Other times, it’s a weapon, stained with the poison of malice; the questioner wields it as a medium to break our spirits. It is easy to reflect on this question in moments of sorrow, posing it at ourselves, to query the fundamental nature of our beings. The resulting conclusion always comes down to one point: we must be flawed creatures unworthy of the title human.