Hey there, dear readers of the page! This post will be concerning my three night dream sequence. All of these dreams center around transition. The particular avenue involving the transition process is also one of my biggest problems: pronouns; now, I usually let people using sir/he/him slide off my back, like water to a duck, but recently I have become emboldened to actually stand up for myself when faced with the pronoun situation. As you know, I go by she/her or any variation thereof. Also, I don’t mind they/them if a person just can’t bring themselves to use she/her.
What emboldened me, you are asking yourselves, to step up to the plate, to rise up, to finally start speaking up for myself? Well, several weeks ago I had a pretty vivid dream, which I had forgotten about in the passing week until…three nights ago. Maybe the dreams started again because of an action I took for myself at Chick Fil A (I know, I know – stone me later, if I don’t do it first) and the people who take orders always ask for a name. I use my nickname SoSo, and give that to the person. Then the person say something like, “thank you, sir.” So, I, in a moment of pure brashness, said something to the effect of, “excuse me, it’s ma’am. You can call me ma’am.” After a beat, she said okay, and awkwardly finished the order. When I drive up to pay, the guy says ma’am. When I get to the window, it’s a girl that recognizes me(they don’t come across that many visibly black trans women with beautiful locs) and we chat for a bit, she hands me my food, and says, “have a nice day, ma’am.” And I felt a sense of peace. And all was good in frog’s world again.
With every silver lining, comes a downpour of dirty, gray rain. A perfect example is having to go to an auto store. Fuck, doing anything while visibly trans can be tiresome. Auto parts stores and auto shops are my particular kryptonite. If y’all remember, Cam(my car) had some problems recently, and I had to get it to the auto parts store to test the batter;y and alternator. First guy I talk to is totally respectful, but doesn’t use any pronouns. Bravo! I applaud not using pronouns if one is not sure of what people go by. Second guy was a complete dick, and gave me a look up and down, and thus, my lot in life was cast. There was a woman who he was training, so she came along outside to help check my alternator.When the guy connects the reader to the battery, I turn on the car. Cam, the grumpy bitch that it is, does absolutely nothing. I get out of the car. I start asking questions, but he shoots me down immediately. “Sir! Sir! Sir!,” he kept yelling over me. And I relented. Folded like a sack of potatoes. I didn’t correct him. I let him treat me like a piece of trash. Everything I was wearing shouted woman, right down to my red nails and beautiful ring that Egg got me. Egg was standing right there. In that moment, I felt shame. And it is embarrassing and painful to admit. It hurt my already fragile ego. Anyway, fuck him!!! Now, back to those dreams! Hahaha, took another detour, but I promise, I am getting to the dreams.
Like, three nights ago, and for the next two nights(including tonight) I have vividly dreamed about correcting people who use the wrong pronouns. And those dreams have produced a certain euphoria in me. You know, maybe I’m beginning to round one of the many curves in my transition. Being out, loud (well, maybe squeaky, lol), and proud. I always feel like I stick out anyway because, like, I am not fish. And passing in the conventional style will be a 50% type of thing with me. I am tall, trans, woman, black, and in a mostly white world and area, and owing to not having many queer, poc friends – all of these makes me somewhat memorable. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is to be determined. And, as the saying goes in the trans woman community, at least for most of us, I’d rather be a moderately attractive/plain/ugly woman than to be confined to life AMAB. And when I die, do not let them call me a guy!
My worldview is expanding again, as it should, and I want to experience it away from my keyboard, ya know? Activism – don’t know if I have enough spoons for that. Definitely not crisis lines. Then what? Only the future will tell, unless one of my dreams becomes prophetic!