Truth: few microsgressions in daily life can kill a trans woman’s mood quicker than a politely offered “sir.”
Honestly, part of me feels silly for even complaining about this. I am aware of how poorly I present, especially when I’m “not trying”. I was just out shopping on a warm day. I had on some denim capris, a button-up shirt over a cami, minimal makeup, slip on shoes, a little jewelry. [See picture below.] it wasn’t like I was “femming it up.” Still, there were cues to pick up on for someone who cared to.
Sunday was actually pretty fun up to that point. I slept in late for the first time in over a week, then got in a quick morning workout. After that I’d gotten together with my friend Erica and we had wandered around a local shopping plaza; we’d checked out some stores, tried on some shoes, gotten something to eat.There had been moments of proper gendering! And yes, maybe a few sidelong looks, but overall it was a pleasant experience out.
Afterwards I went grocery shopping because it was Sunday and that’s the day I do it. I didn’t change from my shopping trip; I didn’t see the need. I did button up my shirt a bit, just because it was getting a little cooler with the sun going down. Maybe that was my mistake; it covered up any hint of curve. So when the checkout person “sir”ed me, not once, not twice, but three times, maybe it wasn’t unexpected. Maybe the lipstick was too subtle a shade; maybe the earrings weren’t jangly enough; maybe I should have just put on a cocktail dress and heels so I could say “What about this says ‘sir’ to you?!” Maybe.
I suppose I just need to take this as a reminder that I’ve chosen a difficult path, and that I still have a long ways to travel down it. Don’t let it get to me; move on and try again another day. Right?
Always look on the bright side of life … <whistles> …