What makes a mare?
Anypony would agree that Big Mac is just your ordinary stallion, known for being big and macho. He’s a rock and a pony of few words. That’s what anypony else would say, so that’s what he said, too.
Yeah, there’s no debate on whether he’s a normal tough-guy, from just a surface view of him. But, ponies expect that farm ponies would be strong and gruff, especially seeing how he’s always been a stallion on the big and tall side. And though we’re taught not to judge a book by its cover, ponies make assumptions and treat others a certain way, based on their initial conclusions.
Big Mac had received his nickname, early on, and as a colt he gave up on correcting ponies, because Macintosh wasn’t a “manly” enough name for someone like him. So, he became Big Mac and nopony wondered how he got a name like that.
No, the only one who put up any fight was Big Mac, himself. Something just felt wrong about that name. It was too strong of a title, and defined him in a way he didn’t see himself. He was definitely on the husky side, growing up, but Granny had always told him that there’s more to a pony than what’s on the outside.
But, what did he know? If everypony else had this unspoken agreement on what stallions were supposed to be, who was he to do anything different? Soon, he grew used to the name and assumed that his lack of identity would fix itself when he got his cutie mark. And, each time he felt some resistance when checking off his gender as male, he shrugged it off.
As a colt, it was easy to just ignore it and go off and play with friends. He liked fillies and mares just as much as any other stallion, so it was easy to just label his mixed feelings as him just wanting ponies to know the real him. Any envy he felt towards mares was just him enjoying their natural beauty. These dismissals were easy to make because nothing was wrong or could be wrong. Big Mac is just your ordinary stallion.
Then, he got older and the dreams started. At first, it was just one odd dream. And, he could’ve just dismissed that, too, but this time he had an excuse. In his dream, he was an alicorn. But, everypony wants to be an alicorn, right? Yet, it wasn’t really the horn and wings that enticed him, though it was fun. He was a princess, with regalia and everything.
He felt wonderful. He felt more sense of self than he ever had, despite looking entirely different. Big Mac couldn’t let this slip away from him, so he justified it, saying that he just wanted to be an alicorn. It made sense, too, since he was an earth pony and he was obviously just envious of the princesses for the magic and such.
So, the dreams continued. As long as he never told anypony, he could tell himself that it was perfectly normal to love the gems on his tiara so much. But, all good things come to an end, and his secret was released to everypony he knew. Something about his sister’s friends and the princess. Suddenly, he was in front of everypony, proudly sporting a horn in this shared dream. He’d maintained his calm, well enough, not alerting anypony of anything. They’d noticed, of course.
And, something about his sister’s tone, when she told him that he was dreaming and could whatever he wanted, gave him strength. He finally let himself go all out. He added wings, though, because that at least gave ponies something else to look at. Despite feeling so very vulnerable, he was ecstatic. Everypony was looking at him, no doubt in wonder, and their smiles gave him courage.
Big Mac could say, with certainty, that he felt beautiful. Their eyes were on him and he was in just a few pieces of jewelry. What would happen if he’d worn more? Did he dare drop the facade and lose the magical appendages? No. He’d yet to even fully acknowledge his feelings. He chose to live in the moment and simply enjoyed the way he felt.
But, Big Mac knew that something had changed. There was a spark, in him, and the pieces had all clicked in his mind. He wasn’t ready to do anything, yet. Yes, he looked good, but there isn’t a chance that he wants anything more. After all, he’s just an ordinary stallion, right?
A small voice yelled no. And, after the dream died down, leaving him alone in bed, with his thoughts, it was quiet and there was nothing to do but listen to the voice. Big Mac realized that it was only his own voice, his own thoughts. There was nopony forcing him to feel great when he dressed up. More importantly, there was nopony telling him that he had to go along with what everypony assumed.
So, he thought hard about one word: mare. More specifically, he thought about what makes a mare just that, a mare. Was it the obvious difference that any health teacher could tell you? Or, was it that air of femininity? That ability to dress up without judgment, or the strength to prove that painted horseshoes don’t make a pony any weaker? What did make a mare? Was it all determined at birth? Is it that “It’s a filly!” exclamation from a doctor that tells a mare what she is?
From this emerged a nagging question. Is anatomy all that makes a mare what she is, or is it how she carries herself? Is it so black and white that either you are or you aren’t? Big Mac found himself overly fascinated about this concept, excited about the idea of just wearing what felt right and telling everypony who dared label him incorrectly to go suck it because a dress doesn’t hinder him from kicking some flanks.
“Could somepony like me be a mare?” he thought. And at that moment, he realized that he’d finally said it. He’d asked the question. Now that he’d done that, he felt that his future was brighter than ever.
Big Mac determined that he, or maybe even she, would just leave it at that, but decided to swing by Carousel Boutique the next day. Maybe Big Mac isn’t just an ordinary stallion. Extraordinary mare did seem to have a good ring to it.