My Misconceptions Shatter

There was a point in time, when all I really wanted was to be able to be myself. Then, as I opened up my heart to my friends, and began to venture out into the world, I thought I could have much more. In public, there was never a laugh from anyone. Mostly, I have felt safe and secure since my presentation started to come together earlier this year. My friends have always encouraged me about my appearance and my passibility.

I suppose all the positive attention and interaction went to my head, because somewhere over the last few months, I began to believe that I could lead a fairly normal life after all. There was this feeling that passibility could be within my reach; that I could some day safely go wherever I want and that people would correctly perceive my gender. Does it sound a lofty goal? Delusions of grandeur perhaps? What does it mean, when wishing for what most people already have, is expecting to much?

At any rate, as the title indicates, tonight those rose tinted misconceptions were shattered.

It was a lovely Saturday, and I had the day to myself, so decided it would be fun to drive over to London for dinner and a look around town. I got ready at home, in complete convenience instead of getting ready in my car. It was such a fun and relaxing experience. Dinner was magnificent. Service was very friendly and respectful. I walked through a couple of stores without finding anything I really wanted to buy, then my day took a turn for the worse.

As I stepped out on to the parking lot, a car load of teenage girls drove by, and a few were looking in my direction. Perhaps initially they looked because I was way overdressed for the store, having just came from the restaurant, which I was probably also overdressed for! (I can't help it! I only get to go out occasionally and I like to wear something fun when I do.) As the car rolled by, windows down, no one looked amused. They seemed casual, appraising looks but then as the car got past me, someone inside yelled loudly "Oh my god, that was a man!"

I was shocked. I had just been clocked, from a moving car, at a considerable distance. The speaker was not just suspicious. She stated it with no room for hesitation. She was certain she had been looking at a man. It was a bit of a blow, especially because of the distance involved. My confidence was shaken a little but still there.

My intent was to go home after that store, but after this incident, I decided I wanted to make another stop, so I could end the evening on a positive note. I went to Starbucks. The barista was all smiles, and incredibly nice, but completely unreadable. I'm almost certain she knew I was transgender, but the transaction went well and the other patrons didn't pay a lot of attention to me, so my confidence was partially restored.

Then, things got much worse. I walked into a gas station to buy a bottle of water on the way home. The clerk was a teenage or early 20s girl, and there were two younger girls inside the store. As soon as I pushed the door open, the laughter started. I've never experienced anything like it. There was a point in time, when I would have probably ran back to my car, but I am stronger than that now. I kept my poise, worked my way back for my bottle of water, and returned to the counter, while these children still laughed sophomorically, openly staring at me.

I had to walk within inches of them to get to the counter, then realized they may actually be in line, so I turned and asked. They said they were not, obviously trying not to laugh or smirk, then went down an aisle and continued snickering.

As I checked out my bottle of water, I was still smiling and completely calm. Then the clerk asked "Why are you all dressed up? The dress, and the wig, and all that?" My brain was struggling for something to say. Not only was I caught off guard, but baffled by the notion that I was wearing a wig. I was caught between wanting to correct her about my hair, and trying to decide what kind of answer such an obtuse, clueless person deserved. My sanity was starting to slip but I kept calm, and with an easy smile I looked her right in the eye and just said "It's a long story." My mind keeps going over all the things I wish I had said instead.

I was numb in the store, but once I got in the car, my social survival instincts disengaged, and I started to feel the hurt of what had just happened. The girls in the parking lot had clocked me at a distance. The girls in the store made up their mind while I still had one foot outside the door. No hesitation. No "maybe she's not a girl" suspicions. They knew I was a genetic male, without even getting into complex things like talking to me. Just looking at me from a distance, they knew.

And her question. "Why are you all dressed up? The dress, and the wig, and all that?" In the end thats what it comes down to. To some people, that is always going to be the perception. To someone, so inattentive that she thinks I am wearing a wig,when you can see traces of scalp through the first 4 inches of my part, I am obviously a genetic male after literally a few seconds of observation. Even to someone that clueless, it is that obvious.

My misconceptions shattered in an instant when I finished analyzing the events of the evening on my drive home. Suddenly and painfully I am aware that I am not nearly as passable as I thought. Probably most people recognize the truth of my genetics as soon as they see me. Most of them are probably only polite to humor me. To most of them I am probably a man in a dress. A man. I will probably rarely get a sincere "ma'am".

I used to say one of my worst fears was the possibility that I might never pass well enough to feel safe, and that I would be caught between genders, since I can not bare to live as a man again. I'm afraid I might be there. Everyone tells me how lucky I am, and how obviously feminine my nature and movements are. My body is doing what it is supposed to do on hormones. Still there is something about my appearance that can get me flagged as male in seconds . I'm not sure more hormones will ever change that. Its probably something facial; some combination of angles too sharp, and a forehead not smooth enough. But I'll never have the money to fix that. Maybe its the adam's apple I so despite. Maybe its a heaviness of the neck, of a broadness of the shoulders. Perhaps some combination of everything. Unfortunately most of that, I'll never have the resources to fix.

The dream of a normal life, where I can feel as safe as the average person walking into a convenience store, and socialize with the comfort that no one in the room has misconceptions about my gender, is dead. I'm always going to be a curiosity, and a joke to a few people, and to many people, I'll always be a man.

It hurts.