Good essay and I am sorry this happens to you :-(.
The only time I ever use ma’am or sir is if I know the person well enough that I am sure of the appropriate address. Even then, I do it in a jesting tone with an affected Southern United States accent. I think the use of ma’am and sir are antiquated and totally unnecessary. I HATE being called Sir but I’ve nevertheless come to accept it. It’s not like I am trying that hard to look like anything other than an eccentric gender-bendy person. I know the majority of people read me as a man because regardless of what I feel internally, that is physically what the body I inhabit is right now.
Ultimately, I don’t personalize it — even if I think someone is being a jerk, that is a reflection of them, not me. I can be so cruel to myself at times, I work at not also allowing stupid people to live rent free in my head.
A gay bear colleague recently asked me about why I paint my nails and when I told him I am gender incongruent he replied confused, “Oh, but you are so virile and masculine. you’re not at all feminine.” He may as well as punched me in the gut but then, If I am being honest, I also know he is speaking to truth, I absolutely know I am seen as male for the most part and that people don’t understand the juxtaposition of the ‘girly’ things I do they think I am simply trying o be provocative. Still, he totally missed the point and in a moment where I chose to be vulnerable to him and let him in, he was like a bear in a china shop. He’s also the guy who, after seeing I had removed my chest hair, lectured me on how men should be hairy. I know him well enough to be certain he doesn’t intend harm, he is just getting elderly, is self-absorbed and evermore immobile in some of his perceptions and notions.
Now, all that said. Were I taking hormones (or not) … if I was making a clear effort to be read as a woman, hell yeah, I’d be irritated at being called sir. That is when if crosses the line of decorum and common decency. Whether I pass or not doesn’t matter, there are social cues reasonably intelligent people should pick up on. Take my last nme for example, I pronounce it in Spanish, not English. It pisses me off when people refuse to pronounce it correctly saying it is too hard. No it isn’t. ALL those phonetic sounds exist in english, I don’t expect them to have a perfect accent, only to try. The truth is, they just can’t be bothered to put the effort into it because they don’t think it important.
I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this but I am a recovered(ing) addict. One of the meetings I regularly attended had a young trans man who would talk about the fact of being transgender. To to avoid potential abuse of the power differential, there is an understanding in these fellowships that men and women don’t sponsor one another — it happens but is generally frowned on. Interestingly, they don’t seem to have a problem with gay people sponsoring other gay members of their own sex and gender. Anyway, this trans guy ‘Dave’ was accepted as a man and therefore had a male sponsor.
At the supermarket the other day I approached this young person to ask if there were any carts inside. They immediately went outside and grabbed me one and when they came back, I paused and asked, “Do I know you?” They said no. I am pretty sure they were Dave but they were also androgynous enough that I wasn’t going to push it and ask, “is your name Dave?” This was for two reasons:
- If it was Dave, I didn’t want to break his anonymity.
- If it wasn’t Dave, they were androgynous enough that I wasn’t about risk calling someone who identifies as a woman “Dave.” I mean, c’mon!
You and I are sensitive to these things regarding transgender/non-binary, queerness and so forth, it’s common sense to us. Still, I think it is also common sense and common decency to just think before you speak. For example, I doubt either of us walk up to women with extended bellies and ask “Hey, when is your baby due?” It happens a lot though, women with bellies get people who ask when their baby is due and they are not pregnant. I’ve also become mindful of not saying to someone, “gosh, you look just like_______” inevitably, even if you are comparing them to a supermodel, someone won’t think it a compliment; I was recently told I look like a young Ozzy Osbourne — gosh, thanks, I guess :-/.
But to my extraordinary shock, I’ve been ma’am-ed 8 times and each time I feel a warm tingly glow emanate from my groin and heart and then spread throughout my body as I get goosebumps and a moment of tremendous comfort. I absolutely love it…and then the asshole who lives inside my head kicks in and begins to invalidate me. And again, I know I am mostly read as a cis man with odd ‘gender-fucker,’ somewhat androgynous habits. I’m a realist though: I’ve not taking E or T blockers, I am tall, have a deep voice, am naturally stalky and muscular, my facial hair shadow is visible, and women call me rugged; from my perspective, I accept that most people are going to address me as a man. Cis people just don’t have the same awareness you and I have in this regard. I wish it were otherwise but for me, it’s blowing in the wind.
Another thing that throws me a bit is when someone I know is cisgender puts their pronouns on their email signatures. I reckon I am being persnickety though, they are making an effort to be allies but I always feel like my own gender incongruence gets bit trivialized. Again, that’s me and I admit I am being intolerant and ungrateful. At my rowing club, I can tell people were confused when I renewed my membership as -non-binary and opted for they/them pronouns. I was so tempted to put the name Antoni(a)… I chickened out.
Anyway, I think most people don’t think, they don’t mean any harm, they just walk around oblivious and unwilling to stop and think about why they do the things they do.
Caso en punto: Por el cumpleaños de mi suegro, fuimos al restaurante por almuerzo. Allí había una camarera trans que atendió a nuestra mesa — era claramente obvio (a mi) que ella es trans. En un momento durante el almuerzo, mi suegro, sin darse cuenta de que es trans, pidió a ella por mas agua:
“Hombre, cuando tienes capaz, me gustaría más agua, por fa.”
A mí, fue como la aguja de un tocadiscos arrastrándose repentinamente a través del disco. Un momento de silencio mientras que me imaginé la música del último tiroteo de la película El bueno, el feo y el malo. Pero, la camarera era cortés y con un tono de fuerza confiada pero amable, ella dijo: “Actualmente es, “señorita.”
Confundido, mi suegro dijo confundido “como?”
“No es hombre, o señor, es señorita, soy mujer… Y sí, estoy feliz de traerte más agua.”
Mi suegro sintió horrible, totalmente avergonzado, derramando disculpas. Él no tenía intención de insultarla y luego, con buen propósito, se refirió a ella como mujer por lo resto de la comida. Ella era feliz como una lombriz escucharla. Es porque tuvo paciencia y un poco de compasión pero también tuvo la oportunidad enseñar en lugar de luchar porqué como dice el dicho, “la persona que se enoja pierde.” Tengo un montón de respeto por la manera en que la camarera manejó la situación. Yo sé que mi suegro tiene buen corazón.
