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Oct. 11th, 2018 09:40 pmFor most of my transition, I've basically put myself out there. I'm transgender. You can ask me anything, including the sensitive stuff. Because I want you to hear it from ME. I know you've clocked me as trans - I'm going to live my life anyways. Because I want you to see what a transwoman is really like, whatever you may think of me.
That wasn't always the case. And so, for coming out day, a snippet from The Girl in the Mirror about why I decided to come out after coming out.
-=-
I began work at Kinko’s a few days later, and not a single person batted an eye that I was transgendered. In fact, that particular store was a LGBT haven, with rainbow posters littered around the store, and the only straight person there was the manager.
Even better, we worked in a super swanky part of town. I showed up on my first day wearing the Kinko’s standard uniform – blue slacks, light blue cotton top and the stupid apron they had us all wearing that mostly just got in the way. I was pulled aside and told I not only didn’t need to wear it, but was encouraged not to wear it. “Our clientele doesn’t buy from places that wear uniforms” I was told. Sure enough, next door, the McDonald’s was doing the same, serving fast food in business casual. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a woman at home – I was a woman at work. I’d been female at work for almost a half year, but the only main difference was that I was wearing makeup and had breasts. Now I was wearing skirts and blouses. I was even more at home than usual.
My job, however, wasn’t really needed at the store. I’d been hired at the same position that I had in Pennsylvania…but they were just fine with who was there already. There wasn’t anything for me to do. I was put on “express” services, which allowed me to help people on the self-serve computers. But they were mostly tech-saavy and for several weeks, I spent my eight hours standing and waiting for someone to need help. Eventually, I got put on the counter taking orders, and binding books.
It was here I got my first, straight up to my face, example of someone who disapproved of me. I was taking an order from a slick looking guy with an attitude. Nothing big or difficult at all.
At the end of the order, he called me “Sir.”
I quickly, and nonchalantly corrected him, as I usually did when I got that: “That’s Ma’am, actually.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
I froze. My brain was just in lockdown mode and blank. It took a second to register through the shock of someone essentially slapping me across the face. I wasn’t going to argue, I was just going to ignore I heard what he said. My supervisor, however, heard what he’d just said. She took the order out of my still shocked hands and handed it back to him. “I’m sorry, we won’t run orders for people who abuse our workers.” I’m not sure what happened afterwards, but I went home shortly afterwards, and I never saw him again. I thanked her profusely. She gave me a hug.
At that time, I made a new rule about how I was going to live my life. I wasn’t ever going to really pass as a genetic woman. I’d always be “that guy in a dress” no matter how much I tried. I decided, at that point, to be the best transsexual they’d ever seen. There was no way I could pass well enough to get the entire world to accept me as a woman. I would make them accept me as a the best human being I could be.
While I’d never gone out of my way to hide what I was, I also didn’t go out of my way to tell anyone what I was, and let them come to me if they had any questions. An open secret, that I was willing to talk to with anyone – as long as they came to me.
If it wasn't going to be a secret, I was going to be an open book.
That wasn't always the case. And so, for coming out day, a snippet from The Girl in the Mirror about why I decided to come out after coming out.
-=-
I began work at Kinko’s a few days later, and not a single person batted an eye that I was transgendered. In fact, that particular store was a LGBT haven, with rainbow posters littered around the store, and the only straight person there was the manager.
Even better, we worked in a super swanky part of town. I showed up on my first day wearing the Kinko’s standard uniform – blue slacks, light blue cotton top and the stupid apron they had us all wearing that mostly just got in the way. I was pulled aside and told I not only didn’t need to wear it, but was encouraged not to wear it. “Our clientele doesn’t buy from places that wear uniforms” I was told. Sure enough, next door, the McDonald’s was doing the same, serving fast food in business casual. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a woman at home – I was a woman at work. I’d been female at work for almost a half year, but the only main difference was that I was wearing makeup and had breasts. Now I was wearing skirts and blouses. I was even more at home than usual.
My job, however, wasn’t really needed at the store. I’d been hired at the same position that I had in Pennsylvania…but they were just fine with who was there already. There wasn’t anything for me to do. I was put on “express” services, which allowed me to help people on the self-serve computers. But they were mostly tech-saavy and for several weeks, I spent my eight hours standing and waiting for someone to need help. Eventually, I got put on the counter taking orders, and binding books.
It was here I got my first, straight up to my face, example of someone who disapproved of me. I was taking an order from a slick looking guy with an attitude. Nothing big or difficult at all.
At the end of the order, he called me “Sir.”
I quickly, and nonchalantly corrected him, as I usually did when I got that: “That’s Ma’am, actually.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
I froze. My brain was just in lockdown mode and blank. It took a second to register through the shock of someone essentially slapping me across the face. I wasn’t going to argue, I was just going to ignore I heard what he said. My supervisor, however, heard what he’d just said. She took the order out of my still shocked hands and handed it back to him. “I’m sorry, we won’t run orders for people who abuse our workers.” I’m not sure what happened afterwards, but I went home shortly afterwards, and I never saw him again. I thanked her profusely. She gave me a hug.
At that time, I made a new rule about how I was going to live my life. I wasn’t ever going to really pass as a genetic woman. I’d always be “that guy in a dress” no matter how much I tried. I decided, at that point, to be the best transsexual they’d ever seen. There was no way I could pass well enough to get the entire world to accept me as a woman. I would make them accept me as a the best human being I could be.
While I’d never gone out of my way to hide what I was, I also didn’t go out of my way to tell anyone what I was, and let them come to me if they had any questions. An open secret, that I was willing to talk to with anyone – as long as they came to me.
If it wasn't going to be a secret, I was going to be an open book.
