Nebraska, Texas, piles of food...and bathroom angst...
Whew!
We’re back from our multi-city tour of the USA’s chewy nougat center.
We started our adventure by getting caught up in the American Airlines debacle. Our flight out was cancelled and we were put on a United flight. We still left at Dark O’clock but we routed through Denver instead of Chicago and actually wound up in Lincoln, Nebraska a few hours earlier than our original itinerary.
We stayed in Nebraska with Mark’s folks. This was our 3rd visit together to that city, and it has its charms. We ate lots of food…and visited family…and had huge meals…and did some antique shopping…and ate…and took a side trip to see Mark’s aunt…and stuffed ourselves…and marveled at snow flurries in April…and ate…and saw a drag show…and ate and ate and ate..
I had been a little perplexed about how to present my gender in the Midwest. I continue to move through a strange period where I’m perceived as both genders, sometimes within moments. I got “ma’amed” more in the Midwest than I ever have here in California, but it always came at unexpected times.
For example, Mark and I stopped for a Nebraska steak dinner at a place in a little town called York. I was wind blown and suffering the effects of allergies and the drowsiness brought on my allergy meds. I was also wearing no makeup.
I entered the restaurant assuming I would be perceived as a man and I was determined to not work toward tipping that scale. Our waitress was an older, gravel-voiced dame…the kind of movie diner cliché you might expect. She took my order and then turned to Mark and said “and for the Gentleman?”
She hadn’t actually said “ma’am” but the implication was there.
Another time I was called “ma’am” and “sir” in the same restaurant, masking me skittish about using EITHER bathroom.
While in Fort Worth, Texas…in a crowded cafeteria-style joint…a woman behind the counter said “There you go ma’am”. Also a floor manager used the word at the same place.
But the one group of people that made no effort to recognize my gender presentation was in a gay club in Lincoln. I was completely made up and still got called “guy” three times. I know gay people are generally more attuned to gender presentation, but why would gay people assume I was a man instead of a trans woman. I found it rather disrespectful.
I had many moments of feeling exposed and vulnerable. It was very warm at a Fort Worth art fair and my tee shirt didn’t do much to hide my small but obvious breasts. I wasn’t wearing makeup, so I sensed confusion almost everywhere we went. I decided to just go with it, but even that became a challenge a couple times. Mark and I were talking to one of the artists and I assumed he perceived me as a woman. But when Mark’s sister joined the conversation she said “If you need a website HE can help you.” The word hung in the air like stale smoke. I’m sure it felt more important to me than to anyone else, but I still made a hasty retreat. The 2nd punch line came moments later when I walked by another booth slightly ahead of Mark. I told the artist I liked his work and he said “Thank you, man.” The next second brought Mark and he said to the guy “She loves lots of color.”
It makes me feel schizophrenic. It’s also funny.
Getting out of town right after Victoria’s death was a Godsend. I think I’m more ready to start getting back to the business of my life.
I miss her like mad.
We had a really great and special time with our Midwest families. It was healing and nurturing.
I’m preparing for one more short trip on May 8th. I’ll be going to Michigan for the first of 2 memorials for Victoria. In addition, we’re celebrating my Grandmother’s b-day. I will see many aunts and uncles that I haven’t seen in a long time. Some of them may not know about my trans status.
For the time being I will revel in being at home and try desperately to lose some of the weight I gained by eating everything in sight for the last week.
On Sunday Mark and I went to our farmer’s market and had brunch and saw a movie. Our attempt to get back to our routine. At the cinema I walked into the men's bathroom and an older gentleman who was walking out stopped in his tracks and gawked at me. I think he saw me as a woman going in the wrong bathroom door.
Life will never be quite routine again.
We’re back from our multi-city tour of the USA’s chewy nougat center.
We started our adventure by getting caught up in the American Airlines debacle. Our flight out was cancelled and we were put on a United flight. We still left at Dark O’clock but we routed through Denver instead of Chicago and actually wound up in Lincoln, Nebraska a few hours earlier than our original itinerary.
We stayed in Nebraska with Mark’s folks. This was our 3rd visit together to that city, and it has its charms. We ate lots of food…and visited family…and had huge meals…and did some antique shopping…and ate…and took a side trip to see Mark’s aunt…and stuffed ourselves…and marveled at snow flurries in April…and ate…and saw a drag show…and ate and ate and ate..
I had been a little perplexed about how to present my gender in the Midwest. I continue to move through a strange period where I’m perceived as both genders, sometimes within moments. I got “ma’amed” more in the Midwest than I ever have here in California, but it always came at unexpected times.
For example, Mark and I stopped for a Nebraska steak dinner at a place in a little town called York. I was wind blown and suffering the effects of allergies and the drowsiness brought on my allergy meds. I was also wearing no makeup.
I entered the restaurant assuming I would be perceived as a man and I was determined to not work toward tipping that scale. Our waitress was an older, gravel-voiced dame…the kind of movie diner cliché you might expect. She took my order and then turned to Mark and said “and for the Gentleman?”
She hadn’t actually said “ma’am” but the implication was there.
Another time I was called “ma’am” and “sir” in the same restaurant, masking me skittish about using EITHER bathroom.
While in Fort Worth, Texas…in a crowded cafeteria-style joint…a woman behind the counter said “There you go ma’am”. Also a floor manager used the word at the same place.
But the one group of people that made no effort to recognize my gender presentation was in a gay club in Lincoln. I was completely made up and still got called “guy” three times. I know gay people are generally more attuned to gender presentation, but why would gay people assume I was a man instead of a trans woman. I found it rather disrespectful.
I had many moments of feeling exposed and vulnerable. It was very warm at a Fort Worth art fair and my tee shirt didn’t do much to hide my small but obvious breasts. I wasn’t wearing makeup, so I sensed confusion almost everywhere we went. I decided to just go with it, but even that became a challenge a couple times. Mark and I were talking to one of the artists and I assumed he perceived me as a woman. But when Mark’s sister joined the conversation she said “If you need a website HE can help you.” The word hung in the air like stale smoke. I’m sure it felt more important to me than to anyone else, but I still made a hasty retreat. The 2nd punch line came moments later when I walked by another booth slightly ahead of Mark. I told the artist I liked his work and he said “Thank you, man.” The next second brought Mark and he said to the guy “She loves lots of color.”
It makes me feel schizophrenic. It’s also funny.
Getting out of town right after Victoria’s death was a Godsend. I think I’m more ready to start getting back to the business of my life.
I miss her like mad.
We had a really great and special time with our Midwest families. It was healing and nurturing.
I’m preparing for one more short trip on May 8th. I’ll be going to Michigan for the first of 2 memorials for Victoria. In addition, we’re celebrating my Grandmother’s b-day. I will see many aunts and uncles that I haven’t seen in a long time. Some of them may not know about my trans status.
For the time being I will revel in being at home and try desperately to lose some of the weight I gained by eating everything in sight for the last week.
On Sunday Mark and I went to our farmer’s market and had brunch and saw a movie. Our attempt to get back to our routine. At the cinema I walked into the men's bathroom and an older gentleman who was walking out stopped in his tracks and gawked at me. I think he saw me as a woman going in the wrong bathroom door.
Life will never be quite routine again.
posted by Daya Curley at
7:51 AM
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