Transing gender: a body in motion
Trans-prefix
: on or to the other side of : across : beyond
-There were times with friends when we played house with her and I’d always be the husband. Thought it was just me being gay. It was actually me embracing my masculinity.
-I’m 8 and got lost in the grocery store. Smarty pants knows to go to the help desk and ask. They calm me down and announce over the intercom,
“Sarah’s Mother. Your son is at the service desk.”
My mom doesn’t show up because she doesn’t have a son.
-12 years old. Checking out books at the library. The librarian takes my card, looks at me, and looks at the card. “This isn’t your card. Did you take your sister’s?”
-I’m 19 and just learned at a workshop what genderqueer is. The definition: me. I’m elated. There’s a word for it!
-I’m wearing a nametag. A person reads my name: Sarah. They look at my body: masculine with skin that is some kind of brown. They guess pronunciation:
“Saar-rahh? Zarrra? Sahara? Like the desert? Is that where you’re from?”
-At a quicenera and I need to pee. I’m a family friend; most people know me. Shouldn’t be a problem. Walking into the women’s room, I hear
“Chico, este es un baño de mujeres!”
-Eventually, I realize a privilege to my presentation: if the lines to the women’s restroom are too long because the audience at this boy band concert is 90% women, I can use the men’s without anybody batting an eye. But why are the floors sticky?
-At a different concert, I head towards the women’s room. With my hand on the door handle, a security guard sprints up to me. We lock eyes. I know that processing face. While they try to figure out if I belong in there or not, I’m just going to do my business.
-Why do people laugh when I tell them I get yelled at in bathrooms and locker rooms? Yes, YOU know I’m not a man, but tell that to the strangers who see my body at a glance and go fight or flight on me.
-I liked the way my body looked when I was a gym rat. The women in the locker room didn’t. Sometimes it’s a hassle to change in your car. So I don’t go.
-Election time, and I can drop off my ballot early. No ID required. Super easy and convenient. I hand in my ballot with my name in the envelope, ready to confirm my address when the volunteer pauses.
“…can Sarah not turn the ballot in herself?”
“Oh, I’m Sarah.”
“No you’re not”
I checked my ballot later. It was counted. Bathroom Bill still passed.
-At my new job. People ask my pronouns. Great! I love it here!
-Later on, in a meeting. People respect my pronouns. They just think I’m one or the other. So they correct each other on my behalf. 1 minute of correction per meeting. 104 minutes a year arguing over “she/they.”
-My binder with the genderqueer flag DIY sewn on doesn’t fit anymore. I’d rather get top surgery than try sewing through a binder again.
-A reunion with an old flame over coffee. She asks:
“So have you started transitioning? Most of my exes have come out as trans. New pronouns?”
Flame extinguished.
-2022: Oh! Some states offer you the option to change your gender on your ID to reflect your identity. That’s a cool thing I might do later
-2025: “As of today, it will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders: Male and Female.”
Never mind then.
-I might go back in the closet a bit and ride this storm out.
Sarah (she/they) is a Media Studies graduate who uses their degree to write for fun. They most enjoy writing about media and being mixed.
Website: thelesbianword.wordpress