It was a normal summer day. Big Macintosh Apple threw his weight into the harness as he fought the troublesome root in the garden patch.
“Afternoon, Big Mac!” Apple Bloom said, trotting home with her two friends.
“Hey Big Mac!” echoed the other two.
“Hey,” Scootaloo said, stopping Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. “So... Orchard Blossom?”
Big Mac froze, his cheeks going a deeper shade of red. “Uh...”
Sweetie looked embarrassed. “Scoots!” She tugged on the orange tomboy. “Must you?”
“Why?” Scootaloo asked, unfazed by her friend’s actions. “Why did you dress up?”
“Uh-” Big Mac stuttered, “Nope!” He unhitched himself from the plow and started yelling, “EeNOPE, nope, eenope!” as he ran across the field, leaving the fillies in the dust.
Big Mac was unsure how long he had run, only that it had been for quite a while, nor was he quite sure why. It had happened, and he had been more than willing to explain it to Apple Bloom, but to her friends-
He froze solid in the middle of one of the back orchards. “Nope!” he said out loud.
Slowly he made his way over to a large stone and sat down. He thought back over his life. He wasn’t that old, not compared to Granny anyways, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been through things.
He had two sisters, his grandmother had raised him, and, like Spike, he had almost no male friends.
Big Mac sighed. Here his sister was one of the Elements of Harmony, and he still had almost no close friends.
He looked out over the lush orchard. Small specks of red, orange, and shades of green dusted the landscape below. Above, puffy white clouds dotted the sky.
Again, he sighed. “Eenope,” he mumbled, “Nope.” Just because he grew up with mares didn’t mean he didn’t understand how stallions thought, nor did it make him any less of a stallion.
On a small branch a small damselfly landed, the sun reflecting off its skin, turning it numerous different colors. Big Mac smiled. “Hey little friend, you look the way ah feel,” he mumbled to it.
The damselfly tilted its head a little, but otherwise didn’t move.
Big Macintosh’s mind drifted back to Apple Bloom's dragonfly toy. A lone tear slipped from his giant eye and trickled down his cheek.
The truth of the matter was, that wasn’t the first time he had ever dressed up like a mare. When he had been younger and both of his sisters were into playing house, he found it very common for him to be somehow cast as the baby, or worse, mommy.
If they had been playing Dragons and Damsels, he of course would play the pitiful damsel that had to be rescued.
And the time Applejack had decided to do an opera for school, he of course played the fat lady at the end. It was how he had ended up with that costume to begin with.
He had no father, no grandfather, and his uncles all lived a great distance away. In truth, his grandmother had been the one to raise him, and he had two very strong-willed little sisters. Of course he understood the ways of the mare.
According to a book he read, and in his own life he had decided it to be true, when a colt is raised by a mare and has a bunch of sisters, he would be gentler. The opposite was true when it came to fillies—if they were around stallions a lot, then they’d be rougher.
He watched as the damselfly buzzed off and away. If wearing a dress so he could take part in the Sisterhooves Social with his sister meant he was less of a stallion, then Dash wasn’t a mare because she loved to be cool!
“Hey, Big Mac, why’d ya run off like that?”
Big Mac looked up. Trotting from a different direction came Applejack, her blond mane flying, her stetson leaning forward just slightly so the wind couldn’t rip it off her head as she ran.
Big Mac looked down. “Nutin’,” he mumbled.
Applejack paused and looked her brother over. “No, ah know ya. What happened?”
Big Macintosh refused to answer, instead, plucking a tall bahiagrass and sticking it in his mouth.
Applejack walked slowly over and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “Come on Big Mac, ya can trust me? Dern Tootin’ ah’m yer little sister.”
“Eeyup,” he mumbled.
She sat down with a plop. “Alright, what’s eatin’ at ya?”
“Nutin,” he mumbled again.
“Eenope!” Applejack fired at him, “Ah can see it when a bur gets under mah brother’s saddle. So, are ya gunna remove it, or do ah have to pry it off?”
The elder brother didn’t say anything.
“It’s about them fillies, ain’t it?” Applejack asked.
Big Mac again didn’t answer.
“Ah thought ah hit the nail on the head,” she said smugly. “So, what did they say ta ya?”
“Sisterhooves Social,” Big Mac mumbled under his breath.
“Yer gunna have ta speak up,” Applejack scolded him, “What did they say?”
“Ah ain’t Apple Bloom!”
Applejack staggered back, both eyebrows firing straight up, her hat toppling from her head. “Big Mac!”
Big Mac just stood there stunned. Slowly Applejack got back up to her hooves and dusted herself off. “Alright, what happened?”
Big Mac sighed deeply. “Nutin’,” he grumbled again.
The orange mare glared, then sent a well-aimed slap towards the stubborn stallion’s head.
Fire was in his orange eyes now. He stood and almost slapped her back, then froze. He couldn’t! In a defeated manner he lay back down.
Applejack whacked him again. This time, not half as hard as she had. “Come on!” She got right down at eye level, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. “Spill it!”
He snorted. “Fine,” he grunted, “Sisterhooves Social! Happy now?”
Applejack’s demeanor melted. “Finally,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “Rainbow told me about that.”
“Eeyup,” he said.
“Ya didn’t win.”
“Nope.”
Applejack sighed, “But ya sure are the talk of the town.”
Big Mac cringed.
Applejack smiled sadly. Rubbing a hoof up and down her brother’s buff shoulder, she continued. “Ah might not feel comfortable with the whole idea of my brother, a full grown stallion, in a dress, despite the fact Twi tells me it’s traditional where Zecora is from.” She shivered. “But Ah appreciate yer reasons. Ya did it not only for Apple Bloom, but for me. Just like all those other times ya let me be the hero and were willin’ ta let me rescue ya. Ah know it wasn’t normal like, but it’s the way it was when were were foals.”
Brother’s eyes met sister’s. The memories were there—all they needed was a look to come to the surface. “Eeyup.”
Applejack nodded, “So, did ya really- go Rarity?”
Big Mac blushed a deep crimson once more.
“Ah’ll take that as a yes,” Applejack stated. Standing up, she turned towards the house. “Dinner will be ready in a bit. But ah think ya need ta talk with them fillies. A stallion never runs away from his problems, only fillies do.” She winked, then trotted home.
Once more, the glened became quiet once more. Big Macintosh Apple just lay there not doing anything. No, he wasn’t a stallion in armor. He was just a simple farmer doing what he needed to keep his sisters happy and fed. If that meant being a clown about it, so be it. He dragged a house for Cheerilee and wore a dress for his sisters. Nothing, nothing in Equestria could be labeled beyond what he would, or could do after this.
After several more minutes of silence, Big Mac rose to his hooves and took off in the direction of the Cutie Mark Clubhouse.
Author's Note
Author’s note.
Since the release of Sisterhooves Social this story has been rattling around in my head. I really didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I knew I wanted to show Big Mac being manly doing a girly thing. Like wear a dress. Or do what is labeled ‘girly.’
I’m a big sister with two sisters and a brother. We live with our parents, but my dad works 50+ hours a week. When he’s not working, he’s asleep. so my brother basically has three moms and a bossy baby sister.
Zap, my brother has been labeled ‘girly’ by all the other boys he knows. He doesn’t like superheros or sports, he likes playing dolls with his sisters, and plays mommy when none of the girls want to. He loves hummingbirds and will sit for hours looking at a flower.
But that is all because he is around girls. He’s still very much a boy, he still loves cars, even if they talk more than just rattle around. Sid the Science Kid could very much describe him. He’s just a sweet little boy. He’s just not rough, or aggressive.
Honestly, I could see my brother wear a dress, or do makeup if placed in a situation similar to Big Mac’s. If my eldest sister or I were not around to take our baby sister to a place like the Ssisterhooves Social, I could see him doing the exact same thing, not because he was trying to be a girl, but because he loves us so much he’s willing to be a laughing stock just to let us know how much he cares.
When I was younger, I found out about the whole ‘LGBT’ movment. Deep down, I knew there was more to it. I grew up in a big family, and the things they were saying, and the things I was seeing... it wasn’t meshing up. So as I always do, I decided to do some of my own studying.
As it turned out, there is actually some VERY big differences between men and women. And things I’ve seen that stretch across the scope of the cultures I’ve studied. I don’t take US culture, and use it to define men, and women. Because honestly... half the time those things can go either way.
Dresses VS pants. In many cultures, it’s actually swapped. Africa, South America, China, Japan... just to name a few. Where women wear pats, and men wear robes, or another type of dress.
Who Cooks, who hunts. I can name three Native American tribes, and two African tribes where these rolls are reversed. The men stay home building and cooking. And the women hunt, and gather.
Jewelry, or no jewelry. Did you know there is a tribe in Africa where it’s considered a killable offence for a women to wear even a ring! They are not allowed to dress up. However, the men are covered head to toe in loads of sparkling, and glittering accessories.
Trucks VS Dolls. It’s not what they play with, but how they play with it.
Boys make noise, girls chatter. Nope. Not always is this the case. Sometimes, it’s the exact opposite. But the most chattery boy, will never out chatter the most chattery girl.
In truth, if a boy is around a girl, or a family of girls; he’ll giggle more, and is more likely to be gentle.
A girl who grows up around a bunch of men tend to make grunting noises, and be rougher than the other girls. (I’ve seen that with over 20 1st cousins born in all kinds of birth orders, and family dynamics.)
What does set men and women apart is, however how our minds work. How we process raw data, as well as how they deal with stress.
[youtube= https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MZgIiJNvPo]
The point is, it isn’t pink versus blue, there is a great list of things that set girls and boys apart. And NONE of them are what we really think they are. Most talked about separations are cultural, not gender oriented. I view this topic as amazing, and highly liberating. I don’t view either one ‘better.’ they are just different. And that to me is a good thing. There are tendencies, but when it comes to people, there is no hard and fast rule. Every person is unique. The culture is taught, it’s not instinct for most people.
So, I hope you enjoyed this story, and my side note. If you like this, please check out my others.
Cowgirl Out.
