There is an uncanny phenomenon in my family. We have an overwhelming number of men. Including my grandmothers, there are 12 women in the 4 generations of family now walking the earth. There are collectively at least 40 men living those same households. I am a product of the ubermasculine environment I lived. My toughness is beyond a doubt driven by the competitive nature of my family. I can count the number of street fights I’ve lost on one hand because of the sheer number of scuffles I endured with family. Getting you ass kicked from the time you take your first steps to the time you get your first piece can toughen you up. There could be no runts in my family. Each boy was one year behind the other in age, and if tested by an older one, would definitely land a punch worth bragging about. My dad often joked that he paid my cousins to rough me up. There were many times when I held my swollen head believing his jest. The punishment I suffered metamorphosed into beating up my brothers. My moms, aunts, and grannies never understood how we could be so brutal to one another. I, like the rest, knew we could never give in to the taunts or forever be labeled a sissy. Maybe its like that for all families. Maybe its especially like that for a family like us.
I don’t know much about science and biology, but there must be some kind of formula to the pedigree in our blood. There’s something special about us. We are all considered handsome and intelligent men and I’m not just saying that to get my dick sucked. Plus, in the entire bunch, not one of us is gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Besides my natural bias to our biology, I think it says more than I can explain about the level of machismo and competition that facilitated my matriculation into adulthood. I am not saying my family was perfect. But by the time I was a teenager, living thousands of miles away from them, I was who and what I was because of their influence. I’m not saying I am perfect. But I am the perfect fit for my family. There’s no membership we should ever hold in a higher esteem. Whether artificial or not, it is family we can depend on most, even if its just depending on them to disappoint.
As much as I’ve experienced on my own, what makes me is my family. Its their guidance and judgment that makes me who I am. There’s no place like home. Its the place where you make the rules or all the rules make sense. I’m thankful for mine. I’ve always felt as long as I had them, I had direction.