GenderBendy

Pronoun gaffes

My children have a thing they do called the "awkward turtle"...you put one hand over the other, palm to back, and waggle your thumbs on opposite sides, like a turtle swimming, and it symbolizes a deeply uncomfortable social moment.  Recently I've had a couple of awkward turtle moments around pronouns.

One was with Kennedy, an F to M acquaintance of mine.  I met him through a support group, and we talked a couple of times and formed a mutual liking.  Then he showed up at my work one day as the head of a team of people who had come to do some cleaning as part of a time-dollar barter trade.  The other people on his team were using female pronouns with him, and that confused me.  My mistake was to assume that they knew each other; thinking about it afterward, I realized I had overheard comments which made it clear that they had only come together that day.  But in the moment I heard "she" and "her" and when he came to say hello I asked haltingly something like, "You do live as male, right?  Out here in the real world?"  And he sort of faltered for a moment (Awkward turtle!) and then rallied with apparent effort and said heartily, "Yes, of course!" 

Sorry Kennedy!  I squirm, I squirm!

Then there was a social gathering at a coffeehouse put together by MaineTransNet, the remarkable little non-profit group which had also put together the support group where I met Kennedy.  When I showed up in full femme mode there were already about ten people there, in various stages of transition in both directions.  One was Dal, whom up until that time I had only seen in a MaineTransNet video...a fully transitioned transwoman.  She was physically large, especially through the shoulders, and the way she was sitting and talking, taking up half a couch and filling the room with her voice, the first vibe I got was masculine, so when she said something I agreed with, I said, "He's right!  I mean, she's right...beg pardon!"  Squirm squirm...awkward turtle to the tenth power...ow, ow, ow...this one still makes me blush...

Sorry Dal!  Please don't hate me!

Later we talked face to face, and I got from her face and manner the true femme feel which will ensure I use the right pronouns from now on.

And then, just to provide a little perspective from the other side, the other night I was at a training for trainers in Maine's No On One campaign (Google it!), and I introduced myself as trans and was feeling femme, and when someone used male pronouns with me, it grated.  You mean "she," said my internal voice...but I did not speak aloud.  I let it go.

I begin to perceive that if I am going to transition, I am going to have to grow a thicker skin along the way...which, thank goodness, helps me forgive myself for messing up with Kennedy and Dal.  

Live and learn, right?

Bracing

My night out went fine, thanks for asking.  Two sweet moments among many:  by chance I bumped into Christine, my counselor, just outside her office, and she completely failed to recognize me; and later I made my first retail purchase ever in femme mode, a bottle of dark pink nail polish at a supermarket.  (That same polish now lends my nails, longer than they have ever been in my life, extra strength as I type.)

The highlight of the evening was the peer support meeting at MaineTransNet.  There were six of us there; three transmen and three transwomen, in various stages of gender transition.  I love that it was balanced.  I've heard and sometimes observed that there are gaps and frictions between these two trans communities...but at this one little new struggling non-profit at least, I have always felt that trans is trans, and that the emotional universals of living the gender-untruth, coming out (or not), deciding to transition (or not), and going through with it (or not) far outweigh the relatively trifling detail of which direction you happen to be moving.

I feel a strong affinity with my new FTM friends...perhaps because they're working so diligently to be male, and I did too, for those 42 years.  There's a weird flip-flop there, because that part was my problem and for them it's the solution, but still, I resonate to their stories.  Also, toward some of the younger of my new boi-friends I feel a nurturing impulse...like I'm their surrogate trans-mom.  How's that for gender-bendy?  :-)

Tomorrow I'm going shopping again, with my new girlfriend Christina the Fashion Lesbian; and, on Saturday, I'm mulling which of two MTF-dominant social gatherings down Boston way to drop in on...the fairly staid social club one, or the tight skirt karaoke bar one. 

...and all the time, underneath, I'm bracing for next week, when I plan, after months of preparation, to have The Talk with my two children, Daughter17 and Son14.

Interesting times.

Transdar on

I'll be out on the streets of Portland (Maine) today...watch for me.  I won't be dressed outrageously.  Jeans, my favorite purple top, flip-flops with sparkle in the cork.

The reason I mention it is not because I think we'll meet...it's a big world out there...but to nudge your transdar switch to "on".

You start noticing things.  That strikingly tall woman with the broad shoulders and the big hair stalking down the street...could she be?  This skater-boy with the cherubic face in the bus kiosk...could he be?  If you practice good trans-etiquette it doesn't matter, because the first rule is, treat folks as they present, but it's still fun to wonder.

A new thought occurs...perhaps the kernel of the embarrassment around meeting people of ambiguous gender is not about reading them.  Hey, I expect to get read.  No big deal.  Bound to happen.  No, the squirmiest scenario is getting it wrong.  What could be worse than venturing, "Excuse me, are you trans?" and the answer being an affronted NO?

Something to ponder:  How do you politely ask one if one is trans?  If you ask at all...but why not?  'Tisn't shameful.  It has to be an appropriate question from time to time.