Morning Gorgeous, how are you doing?…
That’s my standard greeting and I use it a lot, so please; don’t be offended – We are all gorgeous in our own unique way…
But anyway, I woke up this morning with a particular thought in my head. A re-occurring thought, and one I wanted to talk about. But to get it, I need to tell you a story about an event that happened to me very early on in my Transition. So bear with me, then once it’s done; I’ll go into more detail about why I needed to write today.
So, as with every Trans individual; you reach a point where you have to pick a name for yourself, of the opposite gender. Now for most people, your parents would do that. And until you’re a parent yourself, you don’t know how to do that. Luckily; I am, and I’m also one of the last generations that will do this with any frequency – It’s the norm for me, but it won’t be for you kids out there, you’ll have help. But I actually digress. We can revisit this later, it’s another interesting topic.
Sticking with the story. Once you’ve changed your name, you then have to tell everyone else about it. That process is the same whether you’re Trans, you don’t like your old name, you hate your parent’s, or whatever – just get on with it. In my case, I rent my property and I had to tell my landlord and letting agent (realtor for you US folks). That involved me going into their office (shop), dressed as Vikki, carrying the necessary documentation and signing paperwork. Off I went – Wasn’t a problem, not for me anyway. When I got the office / shop / store / whatever I calmly walked in and headed left to the rental section, and sat down in-front of one of the agents. I then began my explaining my position and pulling out the documentation. She was lovely, I like her, she handled it brilliantly and we got everything sorted out. Magic.
While this was happening, however. I noticed a group of people over on the retail side. One of whom turned out to be an elderly gentleman, in his sixties. He looked, for all intent, like your typical English farmer gent – Boots, Jeans, Check Shirt, Body-warmer waistcoat, Grey Hair, Balding; you know the type – read Beatrice Potter if you dont. He strides across the shop, full gusto, straight at me. He leans over me like I’m a subset of the human race and says in his loudest possible voice (which got my attention – definitely!), “Are you a Man or a Woman?” – How Fucking Rude!
Talk about putting me on the spot. Thanks mate.
Well, I had seconds to think of a response. Anything else and I was history, he was about to make mincemeat out of me and I knew it. But. Even I was surprised at what I did next, it still gets me now – hence why I write this. What I did, was I looked him square in the eye, laser beams from my face so he knew I was deadly serious, and said to him: “Both”. Period. Soft, unassuming voice, conversational. And didn’t say anything else, didn’t need to. That was it. Your turn.
I have never seen a man shrink to the size of a mouse so fast in all my life. He nearly fell over stepping backwards. Lost his balance completely. I can’t describe his face, it wasn’t shock, horror or any of that type of emotion – maybe surprise. I think it was confusion, and I confused the hell out of him. But I did it in style.
He ran out of the shop. I think he said something to the effect of “I’m Leaving”, but I didn’t catch it. I’d turned away and carried on. Not that I could, the whole shop was instantly apologetic for what happened and at which point I was fending them off. But it’s not their fault, it’s his ignorance that’s the problem. The man has a lesson to learn and some reading to do. The world is changing around him, best he at acknowledges that; if nothing else.
It’s made me think though, and this is why I’m writing the post.
It’s taken me an hour to describe an incident that was over in under 15 seconds. It was that quick. Why has it taken me so long, and why I am I still thinking about it 3 months on. Well I’ll tell you why, and it ties up my previous two posts nicely. You’ll also get my attitude and why I’m going to carry on writing.
I am Trans. I am transitioning my body to match the personality of the individual inside it. Most people don’t have that problem. They accept their body as it is because it matches who they perceive themselves to be. Your body is interface to the world around you. And to use terms from IT, for most it’s a PC running Windows. Everyone knows it, it works, and you accept that.
Well I’m a PC running Linux.
And there’s my next post. Right there.
Good Morning Gorgeous…