I am male, but the Gender Genie says that I am female.
Words: 770
(NOTE: The genie works best on texts of more than 500 words.)
Female Score: 960
Male Score: 639
The Gender Genie thinks the author of this passage is: female!
In case you are curious about the writing example I used, here it is. (This is a draft. And I am not a writer.)
All I have to do is Dream
Hardened commandos (or commando trainees) can be sentimental too. One day, I discovered that some were not afraid to show their softer side.
At first, I thought maybe something was wrong with me. Why did I feel maudlin at times, especially during particularly hectic training? For example, lying on my bunk bed (after a crazy day’s training), I get teary eyed when I sing in my heart in the dead quiet and stillness of the night. I felt great relief, an unburdening of all my emotions of despair. Many were Christian songs about God’s love and comfort. Some were love songs. Others, such as "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?", were about the sorrows of war.
I can’t remember exactly how they found out. "Hey, Raymond, I heard you know the song 'All I have to Do is Dream'," a platoon mate said. "Do you have the lyrics?" I said no, I didn’t have the lyrics on paper. But I could write them. I explained that when I was a kid, I had often heard this song by Donny Osmond. (The original singers were the Beverly Brothers.) My sister was obsessed with the Osmond Brothers; she always played this song on our record. (Remember, those were pre-CD days.)
Then another asked me for the lyrics to the same song; then another. So one fine weekend at home, weary from the past week's training, I took a pencil and paper and wrote the lyrics, singing and recalling the song in my mind as I had heard it during my seventies childhood. (Those were pre-Internet days. Today, you can google and get the lyrics to this song in less than five minutes.) I was momentarily transported back to my carefree and innocent childhood days. Oh, if only this trip could go on forever.
I didn’t know if the resulting lyrics were a hundred percent correct, but I believed they were accurate. Fortunately, it wasn’t a rock song in which lyrics could hardly be heard but a pop song in which Donny Osmond pronounced the words clearly.
After the weekend, I was all excited with the lyrics in hand. How amazing it was for me to get excited about going back to camp. One night we had some free time in the bunk after an exhausting day. I gathered with three of those who had requested the lyrics. We sang out loud with the lyrics I had written.
The scene wasn’t anything unusual or spectacular. But I would always remember it - four tough, fit commando recruits, who earlier in the day had been screaming, "KILL! KILL! KILL!" while charging with fixed bayonets, now huddled at the corner of the bunk singing quietly.
"Dream, dream dream dream, dream, dream dream dream
When I want you in my arms,
when I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is . . ."
We felt a great release of pent-up emotions from the stress of training. Commandos are trained to advance, but this time we retreated from harsh reality into a land of dreams. It was a cathartic expression of our innermost desires. Perhaps my friends were dreaming about their girlfriends as they sang strictly according to the song’s lyrics. But most probably (and I felt it strongly) they were dreaming of being somewhere far away where there were no sorrows or sufferings or danger. Whenever the training got too much for us, all we had to do was dream, dream, dream….
In this place where men try to maintain a facade of toughness, my fellow commando trainees weren’t bashful about being sentimental. They eagerly requested the song. I knew why they wanted the song, and they knew that I knew. We were not afraid to sing in the presence of others.
Though the words of the song spoke much, the words unspoken between us spoke volumes. We did not say, “What a great emotional release” or “I always dream about a land somewhere far from here." Perhaps this was pushing our expression of unashamed sentimentality too far. But there was no need for such words because of mutual understanding of emotions and longings, bonded we were by shared adversity.
Since this singing episode, I no longer felt ashamed for feeling mushy. I no longer felt ashamed of longing for a faraway land, a land far from the commando lifestyle. I then sang another song,
"Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby
. . . ."