How It Is with Me

I walk around work today as if I’m drunk. I’m not drunk. I wish I were drunk. But I’m not drunk. I’m tired. Actually I think I passed “tired” many months ago. Now I’m working on passing up zombie.

I’ve heard of people going in for an operation and the anesthesia knocks out the body but not the mind, so the person is conscious of everything but can’t move. That’s the sort of place it seems my body is heading. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m working on it. Maybe next month some time.

Medications are part of the problem, but not all. Mostly it’s the “issues” that are draining my brain. “Issues” like the gender question. Informed people realize that gender is separate from one’s physical body, and that it’s not as simple as male and female. It’s a spectrum with male on one side, female on the other, and a slew of mixtures and others in between. As for me, I am a woman. That’s my gender. Simple. Nothing complicated, so please, for the love of gods, let this be the end of the discussion. Let there be no more speaking about gender.

And enough of the labeling. I understand we all want to be seen for who we are, and labels are helpful in doing that. But sometimes they get in the way. For instance one may technically call me a transgender woman, meaning an individual who is female, but has to deal with a male body. But please, please, enough of the trans-whatevers. I Am A Woman. End of discussion. (wow, major deja vu moment) No more questions, no more distinctions between a cis woman (a woman born with a female body) and a trans woman. I’m a woman. Over. Done. Enough already.

Is it getting hot in here? I need some water.  Just a little intense I think.  Sorry, but stick with me a bit longer. Just one more “issue,” I promise.

Pronouns and personal names. I honestly don’t understand why people get so upset when a trans person corrects them on the use of an incorrect pronoun.  I mean, if people think I’m male, then that must have a more feminine vision of maleness than I do. 

Of course family is different. Family and longtime friends.  I understand the trouble.  They find it hard to switch from he to she, or she to he or to they or whatever. And it’s the same with the new name. I get it. You try, you forget, some just can’t do it at all.  It’s okay, you’re all awesome I love you. But let’s not pretend that the pronouns and names aren’t important. 

I’m getting really tired of being mis gendered in stores.  It really gets old to walk up to the counter at a supermarket or department store wearing dangly sparkling earrings, a dress, nail polish, my hair put up in a cute bow and the cashier says, how are you sir…. did you find everything okay sir …. that will be 34.98 SIR. Really? I’ve been nice about it. I’ve been quiet. But no more.  If, for some reason beyond my understanding, you aren’t sure about my gender, and you are uncomfortable saying Miss or Darlin’ Sweet Cheeks, you are free to simply say “you” “person” “individual.”you are welcome to ask me. But if one more person calls me sir, I’m going to look behind me, around me, maybe even turn out my pockets looking for the Sir you are referring to.

Alright, that’s all I’ve got.  My Dominoes pizza has arrived and I’m hungry.  Oh and what’s so terrible about Dominoes that people have to … Oh hell, here I go again.  

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