Shoely You’re Joking
I was out the other night with my mom, her friend, and her friend’s son, S. He and I were friends when we were in second or third grade, and hadn’t seen each other in maybe fifteen years. I wasn’t dying to go out with everyone, but my mom had said her friend – S’s mom – had been asking to the point where it was getting awkward. So I finally agreed.
After dinner, the four of us were walking toward the beach to have some ice cream. My mom asked if my shoes were rubbing, as my ankles were red. I said that, yes, they were rubbing a little bit but that I was fine and she shouldn’t worry about it. (This isn’t actually the noteworthy part of the story, but is there any stronger way to say “I’m fine” to a parent? Maybe in a different language? With flashing lights?)
S looked at my shoes and said, “Did she ask if those don’t fit because they’re women’s shoes, and you used to wear men’s?”
I’d been waiting all night for the inevitable transition-related question. I’d actually been impressed that he’d gotten this far – all the way through dinner – without any, and was hoping I’d escape the evening un-pestered. And, as questions go, I readily admit it was pretty harmless. But there was still the frustrating aspect of S feeling like, because he knew me before the transition, he had to relate something about who I was now to it, to reconcile who he knew fifteen years earlier and who he saw that day.
And, of course, the shoes being women’s had nothing to do with why my mom was bringing it up.
“No,” I replied, “she asked because my feet and ankles are all red. But it’s not related to the shoe – I’m covered in bug bites, particularly below where the cuffs of my pants were.” And we kept on walking.
PS – Apologies for the post title. I couldn’t help myself. And don’t call me Shoely.
Themocracy
In time, the novelty of your transition will wear off for your friends and they’ll stop asking you all of these questions. I promise that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It’ll probably be a while,though.
During my transition, I was involved in political activism. Because of that mindset, I embraced the notion that I would change the world one person at a time and consequently, I spent a lot of time willingly answering friends’ questions in an effort to educate them on trans issues.
I don’t mean to imply that you should adopt this role. It can be tiring and annoying as hell—especially when you are asked the same stupid, privilege-soaked questions by many, many people. On the positive side, it can help lay the groundwork for the next generation of trans folks. Person by person, brick by brick, change will be ushered in.
I think what was frustrating about this particular situation is that I didn’t really want to reestablish this relationship with someone I hadn’t seen in fifteen years, so I didn’t want to open up to him at all let alone about transitioning. You’re definitely right, that as the people I’m close to and comfortable with – certain family members, my friends, and some coworkers – they’ve A) had fewer questions to begin with, and B) the type of questions they’ve had are deeper and more interesting to discuss with people I’m already close with.
I’ve given this a lot of thought, because I simultaneously want to play educator (a role I’m good at) and want to be able to tell people to back off. I’m still learning how to walk that line, and don’t know that I’ve found any good answers yet.
Right. That makes total sense.
This reminds me of an incident where I encountered this guy in my hometown that I hadn’t seen since junior high. I was probably in my mid 30s at that point. He didn’t recognize me. Rather, he thought I was my sister. Unfortunately, I corrected him and that brought about a really long, uncomfortably weird conversation. *rolls eyes* The next time I encounter someone from that far in my past, perhaps I’ll let the person assume I’m my sister.
Ha – I’ll need to remember that. I know my dad, for one, has had, “I didn’t know you had a daughter” conversations.
I think it’s kind of interesting that you begrudge S the feeling of wanted to connect who you were to who you are now. Don’t all old friends – or people we knew a long time ago – do that? I know I fall into that when I run into people I used to be friends with a long time ago (granted it doesn’t happen much now since I live on the opposite end of the country from where I grew up and went to school), and while it doesn’t seem like there was any malice in S’s comment, you obviously were somewhat annoyed/irritated/bummed that S felt the need to make some sort of “I knew you a long time ago when you identified as male” comment. I know we’ve discussed how it’s hard for one to truly and fully understand how it feels to be a member of a particular group that (s)he isn’t actually a part of, but I just don’t really think that S’s comment was anything of note.
You say “…because he knew me before the transition, he had to relate something about who I was now to it, to reconcile who he knew fifteen years earlier and who he saw that day.”
I’m sure that if some of the people I was friends with in high school saw me today they’d make comments on how I’ve changed – both physically and not – and while those comments most likely would be positive, I think it’s human nature to compare “now” with “the past,” regardless of how much the “now” has changed from “the past.” Thoughts?
I think you’re right on both counts: It totally makes sense that he wanted to connect who I was with who I am, and there wasn’t any malice in his question. Ultimately, I think it’s more about what I said to timberwraith, in that I had no interest in reestablishing this relationship to begin with, so wasn’t thrilled about any of his questions, transition-related or not.
So yeah, I guess I’m being a little hard on S. And, rereading this post, there isn’t anything in this interaction that was particularly noteworthy. I was just going into the evening expecting to be exasperated, and so allowed the evening to live up to my own (negative) expectations…
Ever hear of self-fulfilling prophecy?
Yes, one of my degrees is in psych.
::Grin:: No argument here…