It starts with a conscious declaration of contextual gender.
I realize that sounds absurd.
Think of it in the following way: if, for long enough, a person is deprived of the company of any lover, they will begin to develop compensating behavior - assuming, that is, that their psyche is structured in such a way as to desire or need such contact. I do not mean in the gross sexual sense - that is a well-understood and oft-seen adjustment, sadly more often found in the criminally-behaved. No, no; simply the presence and attention, although the latter is optional, of another being of the appropriate sex. If such cannot be attained through human socialization, sometimes one finds those who have discovered that contextual phenomena can serve instead.
Imagine opening a door onto a balcony. From inside, where air conditioning and modern chemicals and structures make up the environment, there is a moment of nature and spring. Fresher air - although 'fresher' here may be purely a human construct - with scents that trigger associations in the human brain of weather, time, season, renewal. The sun is shining. Perhaps it is late in the afternoon, and the sun's rays are noticeably orange, angled shallowly across the balcony as the sun moves to its rest. That moment, that particular shape of sensation and realization - perhaps it might be called male.
Or imagine the first shock of water at jumping into a swimming hole - icy, dark, silver. The water is just the survivable side of snowmelt; the pool deep enough to halt the jumper before their feet strike the bottom. It is clear enough to see through murky green and deep shadows the suggestion of moss-covered rocks, perhaps the silver darting of what must surely be a fish's tail. Bubbles, some weeds, a swirl of sand in the water as smoke from a blast. Then as downward motion is arrested, before the jumper begins to rise again, a moment of equilibrium; one so short that the mathematics tells us it cannot possibly exist, that slice as we may there is never a measurable moment where our jumper is unmoving. They are either going down or going up, never still - but the human brain knows there is that moment of nothing and silence, and perhaps that moment, that moment is sought out, its approval yearned for, its comforting presence drunk as water in the desert - and then, perhaps, that moment is considered female. It is given agency and presence, and its presence is sought.
This, then, is how phenomena and context attain moment and power.
This is how the magic happens.