I talked about the TSA last year, while at the National Center for Transgender Equality’s conference on trans issues. The post discussed how the TSA was handling trans travelers, and they deserve credit for appearing at the conference at all. Likewise, when the TSA fucks up, they work (at least they say they do) to correct the problem. That said, it’s inherently obvious to anyone who works with computers – or even anyone who has a camera phone – that the TSA’s claim that the AIT scanners can’t store images is bullshit.

So I opted for the “enhanced” pat-down, preferring not to risk images of my naughty bits being sent far and wide without my knowledge or consent.

The procedure was tame and – fortunately – the TSA workers were very professional. I said I was opting out of the AIT scanners, and was asked to step aside. Within a few minutes (not a particularly long time) a security woman asked if I wanted a private screening. I said I did, so we waited another minute or so for a second TSA woman to join us.

We went into an enclosed area and she wiped down her gloves and put the wipe in a scanner, presumably to ensure there was no  explosive residue before the pat-down even began. She then explained very thoroughly what was going to happen: what parts of her hands she was going to use, where she was going to touch, when she was going to use specific parts of her hands. The process was relatively quick, and about as innocuous as having a stranger touching you can be.

And yet, I managed to smuggle my penis through security. She either didn’t mention it or – as I suspect – didn’t notice it at all. Which was fine with me, but just goes to show how ridiculous the security procedures are. Now, I imagine that the TSA scanner is more focusing on explosives or drug residue – the goal of the pat-down probably isn’t primarily to check for physical weapons. Likewise, I had to go through the regular metal detector before the pat-down. But, ultimately, I could have been smuggling some small prohibited item in the crotch of my undies. (Heaven forbid!)

Again, I’m glad she didn’t make a big deal out of my being trans. I suspect she had no idea. I wouldn’t have been happy if she’d asked what the lump in my crotch was. But I would have at least been reassured the security was secure, instead of having one more example of how invasive-and-yet-ineffective the whole charade is.

The rest of the trip was as enjoyable as the first chunk. I got to see more shows (some good, some less so, but all fun) handed out a shit ton of postcards (probably around 2,000), and was the highest selling show in my venue, Loft 122, meaning I won the coveted Kansas City Fringe Festival Hangover Award and received a bonus performance on the final Sunday of the festival. Woo! Being in Kansas City reminded me how much I like performing and how much I particularly enjoy the festival atmosphere: lots of friendly people, tons of things always going on, built-in socialization opportunities, and a very finite list of tasks to accomplish.

I’ve been thinking about that since I got back to Chicago and my stress level went back up. Being in Kansas City meant I didn’t need to worry about everything, just a very specific thing: getting people to see the show. And I really only had one tool to do that: going out and talking to people while handing out postcards. So I didn’t need to think about contacting colleges to perform, festivals to perform, researching grants, thinking about my next show, thinking about Kickstarter fundraising, and on and on and on.

I’m trying to recapture that while back home, to give myself a finite list of tasks. Say, contact ten colleges by the end of the week, three festivals, find one grant, and so on. Make things I can reasonably check off my list, instead of just feeling like I need to do everything all at once.

Being in Kansas City (and DC back in March) has also awakened some wanderlust in me. And I’ve begun researching grad school. Eeek!

Right now I’m thinking about perusing a masters in gender studies. I think a masters, because that seems more do-able than a PhD, and in gender studies because I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Let me explain. I’m really enjoying performing, but I could see myself wanting to move to activism or teaching or (dear lord protect me) law. On the other hand, I can pretty confidently say I want to continue to work with issues surrounding gender and sexuality. So gender studies seems like a good way to feed what I’m doing now while also allowing my future possibilities to remain open.

A part of the grad school draw, though, is definitely the excitement about getting out of Chicago. I love Chicago, I really do. Literally everything except the winters: the architecture, the theater scene, the culture, the vibe, the lakefront, the bike-ability, everything. But I’ve also really liked the ability to newly define myself when going to DC or KC (and presumably next week when I go do Indy). I feel like I get a new stab at saying who I am, one that isn’t muddied by 26 years of living in the same city. Likewise, I think an academic environment would have some structure for meeting people that I don’t feel in Chicago.

That isn’t the only reason I’m looking at grad school, but I think it’s a good one to consider along with all the others.

More to come!

The drive down went smoothly: My air conditioner worked, Phil and I had stuff to talk about and then agreed on Car Talk and This American Life podcasts, and we didn’t get lost. Also, Culvers has delicious shakes.

While stopping at a McDonalds somewhere in Missouri, a guy unloading the McDonalds truck said “Wow, you work on that? Cuz it looks good!” I wasn’t sure if he meant my tan (awesome) or my muscles (also awesome) but either way it made me smile.

Kansas City is pretty. And hilly. And pretty hilly. I say this from my admittedly flat Chicago perspective, but it seems hilly to me!

The people I’m staying with are AWESOME. It’s Brooke and her husband Chris, and their roommate Amber. They own a beautiful early 1900s home in a historic district and have been fixing it up since they bought it three years ago. Which means there are odd gaps in the repairs – the stairs have ridiculous 1970s linoleum - but on the whole it’s lovely. The main AC doesn’t reach the third floor, where I’m staying, but there’s an extra unit up there. It has trouble fighting the heat during the day – the heat index in KC right now is 97 – but at night it’s delightfully cool.

When I got in they had made delicious veggie dinner. Best hosts ever!

The room I’m in also has this beautiful deck, way up on the third floor, overlooking the backyard. As Brooke says, it’s like being in a treehouse. It’s a little warm to be there during the heat of the day (hence my writing this post in the ACed living room) but when the sun starts to set it’s really lovely. But OH DEAR GOD the mosquitoes! I had ridiculously crazy and disgusting welts from them. I need to pick up more itch relief today and definitely get some bug spray. I meant to take pictures, but forgot. Fortunately they’ve gone way down, but were totally ridiculous and disgusting.

Today was pretty productive, I think. I got out of the house a little after 10AM and drove over to Fringe Central to check in. I then wandered around the Crosroads neighborhood, where my venue is located, and put flyers and posters at a bunch of restaurants and stores.

Did I mention how hot it is?

I hit up about half of the venues today, maybe a little less, and tomorrow want to go put flyers and posters at the other venues. I also received some good suggestions of neighborhoods to hit up and flyer. I need to figure out my schedule for the next few days, but I’m planning to do more flyering in neighborhoods tomorrow and Saturday during the day and then wander around the Fringe venues tomorrow and Saturday evening to hand out flyers to Fringe-goers. I really have no idea what kind of audience I’m expecting, so hope Friday and Saturday’s shows will give me a clue how hard I need to push flyers into next week.

Tech today went well, although there were some hiccups. Some my fault – that I need to fix when I get back into Chicago – and some just the joy of tech rehearsals. But we got through it, and I’m feeling good about tomorrow. The venue is maybe 75 seats (actual seats! no planks of wood, folks who came to see my show at last year’s Chicago Fringe!) and has AC and fans. Little itsy bitsy stage, but enough room that I made it work. I’m just worried I’ll lose my light, but if I need to adjust that’s fine.

I also met another performer in my venue, who is also doing a show concerning gender and sexuality. We’d emailed before getting here, and plan to talk up each others’ shows. Hopefully that’ll help with crowds. He was very bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and made me feel old and cynical, with my whopping one Fringe under my belt.

Tonight is the opening night welcoming thing, where all the shows can do a three minute sneak peak. It’s in 90 minutes and I’m still not positive what I’m going to do, not surprisingly. Ahh, procrastination.

In the meantime, I’m catching my breath, reading a little bit, and going to have a bite to eat before heading out in maybe an hour.

Go Fringe!

My mom’s logic is hard to refute: even though the gas millage isn’t quite as good on the Forester, it can hold more, is newer, has less millage, and rides more smoothly. At the same time, I like my Corolla. I want to drive my car to Kansas City and back (and then to Indy and back). Not her car.

If it were just that, I’d probably take my car. But I’m every-so-slightly worried about my car being covered in COEXIST bumper stickers, in Civil Marriage is a Civil Right, in Howard Brown (hearts) Lesbians, in labor rights and equal rights and gay rights stickers all across the back bumper, the trunk, and curving around the sides of the car. (I like bumper stickers. So sue me.)

I’ve never been to Kansas City, and don’t know the neighborhood in which I’ll be performing or staying. And I’m slightly nervous about leaving my car out on the street, with out of state plates and covered in ‘look at me!’ stickers.

I emailed the woman I’m staying with:

Concerning my car, it’s kiinnnnndaa covered in bumper stickers about union rights, gay marriage, all that jazz. Do you think that’d be cool in your neighborhood, or should I borrow a friend’s car?

And her reply:

Well, shoot, if you have your own car, you’ll be totally safe. We are inner city, but we are in a pretty safe area as long as you’re not wandering around on foot by yourself at night. I walk around my hood by myself regularly (during the day) and unless you have a phoebia of black people, then you’ll be fine.

That definitely reassures me some, but not 100%.

My current plan is to, first and foremost, see what my mechanic says when I take the car in later this week for an oil change. If he says “Um, driving 1,000+ miles round trip in a few weeks, and then another 500+ round trip in August, is a bad idea,” then I’ll probably just take my mom’s. If he says “Go for it,” I think I want to do some more research on the KC neighborhood in which I’ll be staying, and maybe some Google Street View stalking of the area.

But it is moments like this when I question exactly how far on my sleeve I’ve chosen to wear my heart. And I really don’t like that feeling of doubt or second guessing.

PS – Sorry for the very uncreative post title… Can’t have ‘em all be winners.

New AIT screen

The speaker, Stephanie Stoltzfus, from the TSA’s  Office of Civil Rights and Liberties, External Compliance and Public Outreach Division (phew, a mouthful) began by discussing Advanced Imaging Technology (AIT), and enhanced pat-down procedures. But I’ll get that to a bit. First, I want to talk about the new software for the AIT systems. It would highlight “potential threat items or anomalies and indicate their location on a generic outline of a person that will appear on a monitor attached to the AIT unit”” (Ms. Stolzfus’s words). That’s the image on the right. No more ‘naked’ images from the AIT? Awesome!

Except those two buttons on the upper right of the screen, one blue and one pink. Screeners need to choose whether the person their screening is male (blue) or female (pink) based purely on their presentation. Someone in the audience reasonably asked what would happen if a trans woman, with a penis, was scanned as female.

Ms. Stolzfus said they had checked for that very thing in the current round of testing. “The reality is an anomaly will come up if the individual appears to be female – is female – and has parts that may not be expected, additional screening will be necessary.” Well, that’s just lovely, isn’t it?

This is why I am not flying right now. This is why I took the train to DC. This, in my mind, justifies and confirms all of my worries and fears and dislikes of the TSA. My body is not anomalous. To say otherwise is humiliating and, quite frankly, offensive. What happened to the United States I grew up in believing in, not the reality but the idealistic goal that “all men are created equal”? I know it never really existed, but a girl can hope, right? The way the TSA operates, the way  travelers readily and even eagerly give up their personal integrity and body rights for supposed safety, disappoints, offends, and disgusts me.

UPDATE: After a discussion with a friend, I wanted to clarify something. I acknowledge that my body is in the minority, compared to most folks out there. I’m not really arguing that. Likewise, I admit that the TSA will probably take the position that – in the interest of security – the ends justify the means. But if that’s they’re attitude, they need to know something: Any way in which trans folks are treated differently, which this scan seems to do, is humiliating. It makes me feel degraded, and like I’m considered less valid of a person than non-trans folks. My guess? They’ll shrug and say, “Sorry, but for security reasons this is how it needs to be.” But right now it wasn’t clear that they were aware of the casual and seemingly inconsequential way in which the TSA is dehumanizing trans folks.

(Now back to the originally written post.) Ms. Stolzfus also discussed current AIT machines, which didn’t do much more to reassure me. She did say that the person viewing the AIT images is in a separate area of the airport, and actually isn’t allowed to leave their room until the security queue they’re viewing clears out and there’s no possibility of the security officer seeing any of the people whose images they’ve viewed. I didn’t know that, and I gotta give ‘em credit. But Ms. Stolzfus had either been misled or was intentionally misleading us by saying it was “impossible” to store, record, or export images on the an AIT machine. From the TSA’s own blog:

As you can imagine, the ability to store, export and print are crucial in a testing environment. TSA documents and manages approved configurations for all procured equipment, which are verified both in the factory and in the field prior to operational use.

All functionality to store, export or print images is disabled before these machines are delivered to airport checkpoints. There is no way for Transportation Security Officers in the airport environment to place the machines into test mode.

AIT machines do have USB, hard disc and Ethernet capabilities, but these are for limited data transfer only – an officer’s user ID, log-in and log-out time, and statistical data. Images cannot be transmitted or stored. Also, these machines are not networked, so they cannot be hacked. [Emphasis added]

So it’s specifically not “impossible.” As another conference-goer pointed out, it’s not like there are no external ports, read-only memory, a lack of the physical capability to store images. It’s a fucking software switch, and from looking at electronic voting hacks, it’s easy to see how quickly “impossible” can become “possible.”

In addition, if someone does need the ‘enhanced pat-down procedure,’ their same-gender security officer is chosen based on their presentation, not an asked identity. Why the focus on same-gender officers? Why not just ask every person being patted down what gender they would prefer their officer to be? Is that so hard?

I realize Ms. Stolzfus is simply an employee. She’s not making this policy, or designing the software. But I came out feeling even less comfortable flying than I was before I heard her presentation!

So yeah, I’ll continue taking the train, driving or doing without travel.

Breakfast was yummy, and not horribly expensive. Omelet, potatoes, and a croissant, along with communal seating. I ended up siting with Keith and two strangers, one from Spokane traveling to Georgia (a long trip!) and one from Minneapolis travelling to DC. Once again, the topic of why we were on the train came up, and I gave my cop-out answer of gay rights. Keith, of course, reiterated that he was supportive, as was Spokane. Minneapolis stayed quiet, though, while the three of us had a conversation about equality. I was too chicken to ask Minneapolis about her views and, to be honest, wasn’t sure I wanted to hear them over breakfast. Once Minneapolis left, Spokane, Keith and I continued chatting about politics, immigration, the state of the nation, and the same things any good liberals discuss when they run into each other in potentially hostile territory.

I’m on the lounge car right now, facing a river (stream? creek?) that the train has been traveling along since I woke up around 6AM. It’s very pretty, and hopefully some of the pictures I’ve been taking will turn out well. I’m not 100% sold on train travel yet – I think my ability to sleep on the way back will help determine my final verdict – but it’s hard to argue with the view and the sense of actually traveling. Not just stepping onto a magic metal tube and appearing somewhere else hours later. Likewise, as Spokane said at breakfast, strangers you might never speak to on an airplane become potential companions and conversation partners on a train. (Something I took advantage of last night to get some filming done, and something I hope to take advantage of again this morning.)

There’s a sense this morning of leaving my gender behind, as I’m thinking about No Gender Left Behind. As much as Keith’s views on women (see the previous post) were grating, I’m honest enough to admit I enjoyed his claims of how pretty I was. (And since he talked at length about his girlfriend, wasn’t too worried about his ‘gentlemanly’ flirting becoming anything more.) And there’s been something surreal of my lack of trans-ness on this train. It hasn’t been something I’ve had to reveal, and so (even if I don’t like the politics of keeping silent) I haven’t revealed it. I’ve just been another woman on the train. A lesbian, perhaps, once I start talking about traveling to DC for gay rights. But much less of an ‘other’ than I sometimes think – rightly or wrongly – that I’m viewed at.

At the same time, my gender – my trans gender – has been left behind, way back in Chicago and the Land of Lincoln, because that same sense of freedom is a sense of isolation: there is no one else like me. I’m hoping the networking and policy events for the lobbying prep will help with that. I’m really looking forward to the opportunity to chat with other trans folks, and our allies. But for right now, I watch the changing-yet-the-same landscape out the window, count the windmills (20 from this view – go alternative energy!), and try to take photos without picking up the reflections in the glass.

Written in the hotel

After getting off the train, there was an amazing feeling of the calm of train travel: this is a civilized way to travel. No obnoxious security checks, no ridiculous lines, and you’re deposited in the heart of the city rather than the outskirts. I’m hoping my sleep on the way back will be better, because I WANT to be convinced that train is superior to plane; I’ve enjoyed every single thing – the food, the space, the sense of travel, the atmosphere – except sleeping. So we’ll see how the trip back goes.

Checking in was fine. A little trouble with payment from using United rewards miles, but everything is figured out and I’m about to hop in the shower. More updates later!

I sat down next to Keith (not his real name) and we made polite conversation. He looks to be in his mid-twenties (later confirmed) and I learned he’s going to the second-to-last stop, in Maryland, while I go all the way to DC. We chatted about why we’re going (him: going to visit his girlfriend, me: going to support LGBT rights), why we’re in Chicago (him: grad school, me: life), and so on.

(At this point, I should make an admission: when speaking with folks I don’t know – particularly in an enclosed environment like a 17-hour train ride – I’ve been saying that I’m going to DC to push for LGBT equality, rather than trans equality. I don’t like the politics of saying so, but I also don’t feel comfortable potentially outing myself to total strangers. So there it is.)

From discussing gay rights (again, I admit, not trans rights), we moved further afield. Keith, fortunately, is in favor of gay rights, and part of his reason for leaving the Methodist church was their stance on homosexuality. For all that, Keith and I had a really interesting discussion – during which I stayed bemused the entire time – about his view on women’s rights, a man’s place in the world, and gender equality. To whit, ”Women should be ladies and men should be gentlemen.”

We got to the battle of the sexes from discussing gay rights. As I said, Keith is all for ‘em, but used that discussion as a springboard to how it’s a shame that women have gotten themselves in a difficult position. Women have, according to Keith,  gone from looking for equal rights to special rights. “What would you think if you saw a woman slap a man? How would you react differently if you saw a man slap a woman?”

Keith admitted he’d often played the ‘nice guy’ friend, and – in spite of their professed desires for the nice guy – saw girl after girl date ‘bad boys.’ And as payment for being a shoulder to cry on? Keith said he was called gay, a wuss, or worse. (I missed my opportunity to ask why being called gay is an insult.)

He claimed this was all linked up with too much online socializing, and not enough face to face. The Internet and Facebook and texting and online dating weren’t the cause of mens’ slipping place in the world, but why care about interpersonal interaction when you can just stare at a screen? And since women only go to bars in groups, they aren’t really looking for dating partners anyway, but still complain about being unable to meet anyone.

Throughout this conversation, Keith continued to say he was for equal rights, but felt things today were unequal. When I brought up historical reasons things may be tipping toward women (though I didn’t agree they were tipped) he said that yes, society often acts on pendulums. But he said we’re on the polar opposite end of the male-dominated fifties, something I don’t agree with at all.

I’m reminded of Robert Heinlein’s Number of the Beast. Now, Heinlein was no stranger to misogyny and double-standards, but in this book he switched point-of-view back and forth between four characters: two men and two women. At one point, after one of the men (Jacob Burroughs) is making sexist assumptions while claiming to be in favor of gender equality, one of the women calls him out on it. I’m on a train (how cool, huh?) so I can’t find the exact quote, but the gist of it was that Jacob claims to be in favor of equal rights, and even believes himself to be, but always still expects deference and for men to have the final word. I think Heinlein is far from a paragon of gender equality, but here one of his characters got it right.

I’d like to work up the nerve to, if not reveal myself as trans, at least ask Keith of his view of trans people. Hopefully the remaining sixteen hours of the trip will give me the nerve.

I arrived at the MegaBus bus stop around 11:35, plenty of time before the window they recommend to check in for the noon bus from Chicago to Minneapolis. There were already a ton of people there, loading their luggage, so I got my hopes up that I wouldn’t have to wait in the cold. But, alas, it was a bus to Ann Arbor and Detroit, not Madison and Minneapolis.

So I waited in sunny, blustery, downtown Chicago. People trickled in for the Minneapolis bus, generally sticking to the socially defined ‘line,’ but some making the bold choice to stand right where the bus would stop, ignoring all line conventions. I, being the line-follower that I am, looked at those people with a mix of jealousy and resentment.

The bus was late, which made me realize that my shoes are comfy, water resistant, and even good for cold weather and snow. They are not, unfortunately, made for standing on the snowy, cold, windy Chicago street, waiting for a bus that was ultimately 20 minutes late.

I can now, as I’m typing this, feel blood returning to them in a delightful rush of warmth.

But the bus did, eventually, arrive, and everyone boarded. A nice twenty-something couple offered to load my luggage, since they’d accidentally budged me, so I hopped on the admittedly nice double-decker bus.

The bus is full, but fortunately not packed. I was able to score a pair of seats near the back on the second level, which doesn’t have a good view – the window is partially obscured by the MegaBus logo on the outside – but I’ve seen the drive from Chicago to Minneapolis. It’s not that exciting. And I have both seats! My stuff is sitting next to meas I type this post.

I’m hoping to take advantage of the in ‘flight’ wifi and get some emails done, but figured I’d use the foot-thawing time to knock this post out. Hope everyone has a good week, and I’ll hopefully post some thoughts along the way.

Expanding on that, slightly, I have moved from being ambivalent to how I feel about Israel to being specifically anti-Israel. To wit, the ends don’t (shouldn’t) justify the means: The (sort of) peaceful (mostly) democratic State of Israel as a beacon of Western Civilization to the rest of the Middle East can’t, to me, excuse its horribly colonialist founding or head-in-the-sand attitude toward the idea of a Palestinian state. (I know things are much more complicated than that, and the obvious fact that Israel does exist today means grumblings over how things came to be this way are somewhat moot. Nevertheless…)

All of which means I’m not sure how I feel about Birthright Israel.

So I have some ideological issues about participating in a program which aims to create a connection to Israel among the world’s youth, and further Jewish identity.

On top of that, I’ll need to get a new passport. I managed to get a drivers license that says ‘F’ but don’t know what documents they check for a passport, or how closely they examine birth certificates if they don’t quite match with licenses . . . And even if they do issue me a passport with ‘F,’ I’m still not excited about going through Israeli security while smuggling a penis.

Ugh.

My friend is trying to push Israel Outdoors, which does seem like a fun organization. I have another friend who went on Birthright through them and really enjoyed it; he said they weren’t at all preachy or acting like they wanted to indoctrinate their participants.

Thinking that honesty is the best policy, I emailed Israel Outdoors about my concerns with traveling and got this reply:

I am not concerned about the rooming issue however you will need to get a new passport since this will create a problem with security at the airport as we had similar issues with many transgender participants in the past.

So maybe it won’t be a big deal. It looks like getting a replacement passport doesn’t require a new birth certificate or anything, according to the State Department. (If I did need a replacement birth certificate, I probably couldn’t manage to go at all. According to Illinois, new birth certificates take 4-5 months. Put that on top of the time it’ll take for a new passport, and I definitely couldn’t get all that done before July or August, which is when I’d be able to travel.)

I need to get a new passport anyway, so I think I’ll definitely do that. But has anyone had experience with a Birthright trip, and want to share their experiences? (Whether or not it relates to issues with documentation.) Likewise, anyone have any experiences traveling abroad as a trans person in general? (Whether or not it has to do with Israel, specifically.) Thanks!

I hate it, every single time. Name, sorted. Then… clunk. Sex – M or F. Sod.

It seems like an easy question, right? For most people it is. For me, it should be an easy question. I live and identify unequivocally as female. I’m not a genderqueer person for whom the very either/or question is wrong. So why the rising sense of panic?

The problem is this, my birth certificate says I am male, my gender presentation is female. They do not match. Until I can afford expensive genital surgery, I cannot change the marker on my birth certificate. No matter what I put, in a cissexist world, I am situated as a liar.

(…snip…)

Now imagine what you do in a Customs line when you enter a country. Imagine you’ve heard from acquaintances who’ve been turned away by the US, or that worst-case-scenario lurking at the back of your head about Homeland Security issuing a memo about “cross-dressed terrorists.” What do you put then? What do you wear then? How do you present?

Imagine how vulnerable you feel. Driving (what if a cop pulls me over). At the bank (what if they think I’m trying to scam my own money). At the doctors. At school. At work. At anywhere they want a piece of ID, anywhere they want you to tick a box that divides humanity into two. Anywhere they want you to fill out a form. Confess, little tranny girl, confess. Tell them what in their minds what you “really” are. Or else. And they’ll get you anyway.

I’ve been thinking about this sort of thing all week, because I’m flying to DC tonight, and Queen Emily’s post sort of sums up what I’ve been worrying about. And, unfortunately, I would say it’s not entirely unreasonable that I’m stressed.

I know that I am damn lucky I’ve had extremely minimal and superficial experiences with direct transphobia, most of it revolving around cluelessness rather than straight-out bigotry or maliciousness. Likewise, I know that I do still exercise a lot of privilege in non-gender related areas: I’m white, I’m middle-class, and I’m the daughter of a lawyer, all of which combine to make me a troublemaker when it comes to knowing my rights and not taking things lying down.

But that doesn’t really hep with on-the-street bigotry. And even though it does reassure me that, eventually, I’d get anything with TSA or airport security cleared up, it doesn’t mean they can’t hold me for hours and hours or make my life hell for a while.

For tonight, I bought my tickets in my male (legal..) name, as I my name change won’t be finalized until July 20. I’ll be changing after work into baggier clothing, pulling my hair back, and knowing that this is going to be a lose/lose situation: If I pass as male, I’ll be disappointed that it was so easy and, if I don’t, it’ll most likely be because someone’s complaining about my documentation.

Hopefully, this will be straightened out by my August trip – I’ll have updated documentation – but it’ll still be stressful to have genitals that don’t match what a close-up security search might expect.