Thought Bubbles Might be Helpful

As I walked around Town Lake in a black tank tee and cargo shorts I was curious how people were reading me.  I often get the "head nod" from the men I pass.  I have learned to quickly give the "head nod" back.  

Then I get curious that if someone reads me as a man -- what do they think my sexual orientation is?  Do I read as straight/gay/bi/queer?  My assumption (ever a danger) is that if I'm read as a woman that they read my sexual orientation as lesbian/dyke/queer.

Then I think about those people who aren't sure about my gender.  Do they think of me as "it," "freak," and then what would my sexual orientation be?  Maybe they think of me as someone no one would be interested in.  Maybe they don't think of me as a sexual being.

So - what would it be like if people had thought bubble so I could tell what they were thinking?

I usually am friendly.  I smile at people.  Sometimes I say hello.  I want them to know that even though they may not be able to read my gender that I am a real person.

So you might wonder -- why does Shane care?  In many ways I don't care as long as people treat me well.

AND I am curious about what people see and how they gender me.   

I Don't Think So!

The joys of bathrooms labeled "Men" and "Women."  Tonight while I was out and about I had some options on where I used the bathroom.

Important piece of information:  I was wearing dress men's pants, fitted collared shirt and bow tie.

Choice one --  Multi-stall, gendered bathrooms in a park by a ground fountain where a bunch of little kids are playing.
 -- Fear:  little kids most often ask why I am in the bathroom, if I am a boy or a girl or just stare/point/laugh/scream.

Choice two -- In the venue where the concert I'm going to attend is.  A lot of the people who are attending are older than me.
 -- Fear:  older women tend to be uncertain of my gender and either give me a questioning to evil look or might tell me I'm in the wrong place.

So I know that either choice was most likely not going to be a joyous experience.

I decided that I might be a little overdressed for the bathroom in the park and that bathroom is often a bit of the mess because the children come in after playing in the fountain.

So I went into the Women's bathroom in the Palmer Event Center.  I got in without anyone taking notice (at least I didn't get any looks or comments).  

I quickly washed my hands, trying to be invisible.  It would be a handy superpower for me in bathrooms.  And all-in-all so far so good.

I opened the door to leave right as "a lady" opened the door to come in.  She stopped, half turned to leave, looked at the sign on the door, then gave me the LOOK OF DEATH.  I gave her my most charming smile and said, "It is ok, you are in the right place," and walked out.

Just another day navigating the world with as much grace as possible.

Son? Daughter? What?!?!?!?!

One of the joys of being genderqueer in a binary society is being the topic of a conversation where one person is referring to me as one male and the other person is referring to me as female and I'm chiming in with gender neutral language.  Here is what happened tonight:

I went to the Austin Symphony Pops concert with the Mariachi Los Camperos.  At the Pops concerts you sit at large tables.  I went alone and had gotten the last seat at a great table (meaning fairly close and on the aisle).  The other folks at my table were older (60+) and all knew each other.  I felt a bit like a golden, glittery unicorn.  They were very polite -- we all introduced ourselves to each other.

I had a lovely conversation with the woman sitting next to me.  She told me the story of how she and her husband of 50 years met, moved to Austin, jobs, kids, retirement, etc.  

Fast forward to intermission...  I ran into someone I worked with at the Austin Lyric Opera 13 years ago and haven't seen in more than 7 years.  She knew several people at the table.  My former colleague said, "Oh so Shane is your love daughter?"  The person from my table says, "No, Shane is our love son."  I intervened and said "Love child."  Then there was some conversation where one person used "he" and the other "she" and then I think I said "person."  

You could tell that the two of them were confused.  The person who hadn't seen me in a while I'm sure wondered if I had transitioned and she didn't know.  The woman who had just met me assumed that I was a man (I was wearing men's pants, a fitted shirt and bow tie -- looking very dapper if I do say so myself).

I was just giggling inside, trying to use language that wasn't clarifying anything else and was authentic to my experience.