Some days are just hard. I’ve had a lot of those days lately, but I can handle bad days. I have love, friendship, and an amazing support network. Bad days are no match for the blessings in my life. Still, even on good days; there are some things that really have a way of bringing me down. Pronouns, in particular, can be real pests.
As I consider all the reasons that I haven’t yet taken the step of presenting publicly as female, one reason stands above the rest. I am afraid that even once I go all the way, someone somewhere is going to call me “sir” and shatter my bubble. Most of the time, I am wearing primarily women’s clothing. I carry a purse and wear makeup. I wear bracelets and earrings. My hair is still short, and I usually have on a t-shirt rather than a blouse. Still, I am dressed no differently from the majority of the women around me. I even have (small but) noticeable boobs for crying out loud! I am addressed as “sir” without exception.
Yesterday, dressed as I normally do, I introduced myself as Kate (no, I hadn’t put on makeup... the morning got away from me, and I knew that I was going to end up oily anyway… we were having a massage). I even filled out forms using Kate as my name, and still the people in the spa used male pronouns to address and / or refer to me. I’ve seen so many women who are significantly more “butch” than I have ever been who are not mistaken for men. What the hell is the secret? I just don’t get it.
The ironic thing is that I have no issue being out and about looking the way I do, I really give very little thought to the notion of walking into a store or a restaurant carrying my purse, for example. I don’t care that people see me as an effeminate male, but I’m really afraid of being seen as anything other than a woman when I actually give it my full effort. I know, I know – get over it, right? I will. I hope.