Like Judy Grahn’s poem, Edward the Dyke, written in 1965, “…my problem this week is chiefly concerning restrooms.”*
At 74 I’m still often called sir. I’m mistaken for a man because I wear my hair short and usually wear a ball cap. I dress in T-shirts and hiking pants and, often, boots. Hiking is a favorite pastime. When I was younger I was mistaken for a boy, but that can’t be true now, can it? I’m old!
I never cared that people thought me male. On the street it was a defense mechanism. I passed. I stood tall, took big steps, walked fast, balled my hands into fists, and adopted a mean look. Men generally don’t get attacked on the street, especially if they keep to themselves and don’t make eye contact. That could be why I have never been attacked or raped. People don’t see me as female.
In the 1970s I bought all my clothes in the boy’s department at JC Penney. They had flannel shirts in boys’ size 18. I worked as an electrician and wore Carhartts before the brand became fashionable. I got my hair cut by a gay guy who told me my cut was fag cut number three. Sometimes gay men flirted with me. Sometimes I was confronted by men who thought I was a fag. “You idiot, I’m a dyke!” was my comeback, yelled as they drove away,
There was a time when I tried to signify my femaleness, mainly to ease the discomfort of others. I would wear dangly earrings or women’s clothes. Not dresses. Maybe a scoop neck T-shirt, a bra. But that didn’t always do the trick. People make an immediate decision about gender and changing that first impression is not easy.
I was once nearly thrown out of a women’s dressing room. The authorities have never arrived in time to eject me from the toilets, but I get dirty looks from women there. Often, entering the restroom, they will look at me, then look at the sign on the door, thinking they must have made a mistake. Or implying that I made a big mistake. Their misgendering me has made them mad—at me! How dare I wear male clothes and confuse them!
To these women my response is usually, “I’m one of you.” Once I open my mouth they usually get it. I don’t have a male voice.
But, even after all these years, I was struck dumb recently at a roadside rest stop when a man insisted I should use the men’s toilet.
“The men’s is around the other side,” he instructed.
Many retorts went through my mind. I wondered if I should just pull up my shirt and show him my tits.
My wife Holly reminded me that I’ve often responded, “Do I have to show you my tits?” It’s a way to get the idea across without actually having to disrobe.
These days showing tits might not be enough to prove femaleness. After all, any body can have tits—or not—if they want. But here is the reason showing my tits would be all it takes. Nobody would buy tits like mine. Old lady tits.
I ignored him and kept walking. Why should I have to answer to this man I didn’t even know, had never seen before, was likely a tourist from some red state. I could see he had gotten off one of those big day tripping buses.
Apparently thinking I didn’t speak English, he began gesturing with his arms. “Around that way,” he said, slowly mouthing the words as he flung his arms in circles.
I sized him up. He looked perfectly harmless, rather short, oldish maybe 65. He wore a fisher’s hat, a plaid shirt, shorts and sandals. I was thinking I could take him if necessary. I’d go right for the crotch.
There was nothing sinister about him and I saw no wisdom there. The old white-skinned guy was just trying to be helpful. His face had a quizzical look, like wondering what this man was trying to do in the women’s restroom.
Does he see me as old, this helpful bathroom monitor? I have no facial hair (ok a little, but I pluck and shave). He must think I’m an old, shaven man. Does he think I’m a dirty old man with bad intentions? Does he think I’m targeting the women’s room to attack women? Gee, getting into this guy’s head is scary.
Finally, I just said, “I’m a woman,” and that was enough.
Later, I kind of wished I’d pulled up my T-shirt and showed him my tits.
*From the lesbian poetry archive: http://www.lesbianpoetryarchive.org/sites/default/files/Grahn_Edward.pdf
tradeswomn musings 