My Kind of Man

So my baby (age 2) wanted his toes painted red like mine. So I did. I mean, no big deal, right? He doesn't "get" that, typically, unless you are a drag queen or a trannie, men in our culture don't paint their nails.

Well . . . you would have thought I had brought him to a Satanic cult and sold his soul to Lucifer from the reactions of some people (who shall remain nameless for the sake of this blog). Me, I didn't get the uproar. I occasionally slap lipstick on him so he can kiss me and leave red marks. He thinks it's funny. He also, for the record, can hurl a baseball astoundingly well for a toddler, likes to watch Monster Truck Jam (and the fact that I, who has sought to expose my children to the ARTS above all else except faith, would have a child who likes to watch the Grave Digger run over other cars is particularly ironic), and digs Spiderman.

But such are the roles that people seem to set aside for gender. When I write my Nocturnes, I struggle a bit because the heroes are supposed to be Alpha. And frankly, not only do I like Betas . . . but I dig guys who are secure enough to wear an apron or one who will let his little daughter paint his nails.

I don't know if that makes me weird. I'm so different in so many areas of my life, I guess one more doesn't matter. But I do find myself having to work a bit, sometimes, to create characters that stick with the expectations of readers. My characters always seem a bit weird around the edges.

Anyone else struggle with the so-called Alpha in their wip? With reconciling weirdness?