The Wonder Man (he makes you wonder)

José G. González
2 min readApr 11, 2021


His fragility cracked not like a tortilla chip pressed against the hard truth of concrete, but more as a creme brûlée crust under the slightest of pressure. He wondered, “why is this happening to ME?”

He was so steeped in normative culture like tea singular to him that it was akin to asking for a cognitive shift from geo to heliocentrism, or to believe that pumpkin spice is neither a spice nor that it has actual pumpkin.

“That CAN’T be right” he thought, his mental map wrestling with a new perspective like a bouncer filtering who gets into the party. It was much easier to refute with little comparative analysis, much like not questioning the fraternity jungle juice yet being critical of a vaccine.

“I love Mexican food (Tex-Mex really) I have a Black friend at work (acquaintance at best) and I respect all women (that conform to his binary biases) so WHAT ABOUT that, it should prove it’s NOT ALL men,” he told himself, missing the point much like wearing a facemask below the nose.

He was afraid and in denial but did not know it. Instead, it expressed itself as frustration that the world was UNFAIR and that he was the target of what others accused him of. “I’m a good person” he repeated, confusing Intent for Impact much like most do with ‘effect’ and ‘affect’ or worse, principle for principal.

Like a good boy wondering why he would not get a cookie for trying, he struggled with why he didn’t get credit for not being overtly exclusive. “After all, I WORKED hard for all I have, I certainly didn’t oppress anyone to get it”.

“It’s not MY fault for being born with the skin and gender I have” he would say, oblivious to the irony of his privilege while doing a mental gymnastics routine that, was it to be physical, he would certainly be a noted Olympian. Silver at a minimum.

He felt as though his place in the world was crumbling like a mazapán, or perhaps more accurately, the top of an overdone dehydrated Frito pie casserole. He was being asked to deconstruct himself, not in a fun pretentious culinary way, more like taking apart a favorite Lego.

It was too easy for him to confuse comfort with safety — any feeling of discomfort caused him to decry “a lack of a safe space.” Combined with unhealthy masculinity issues, a reference to systemic issues was an egocentric “personal attack” akin to questioning if he had the right sized condom.

But then, like wondering why a baseball kept getting bigger, it hit him…



José G. González

Chicano/Mexicano teacher by training, artist by practice, conservationist by pursuit. Art, Education & Environment- UC Davis, SNRE Michigan