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Nov. 15th, 2007 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_fantastic_ms_foxI was washing up when she came through the door behind me. She caught my eye in the mirror, then turned and flipped open the door again to leave.
"You're in the right washroom," I shout, as the 'woman' sign swings by her face.
She turns again, walks past me silent, awkward.
So I'm glad that my voice practice work is bearing fruit, otherwise this wouldn't work. It's good timing too, since electrolysis demands growing hair out for two days before getting it zapped.
My reflexive, and increasingly egalitarian, politeness is working for me. When I drop by the women's centre and the local rubes stare at me (to say work on why it is that some of the space users have been bothering and/or kicking out girls with short hair), I look back waiting for them to say something. This is not a ruse, it's just my reflexive oh, I see someone is trying to catch my eye, I will indicate that I am approachable for help or conversation.
They never say anything. They realize what they're doing.
It seems that when I go about resolving awkward tension with an aura of hello equal-person, you seem uncomfortable. Can I assist? this defuses the tension that would come about from either of us having to justify ourselves.
Still, the washroom incident bothers me. I think of the pub upstairs and how that could have worked out if it was there instead of on the office level and it had been drunk-woman-and-drunk-boyfriend-outside.
The realization of my overall reduction in mobility is weighing on me now. I think of finding work. Or dating. Or just traveling in rural areas.
I also need to realize that, even as male(-ish), I was not welcome in many men's environments (such as some rural trades sites), but the overall change drives home how social factors of risk, acceptance and such shape all of our worlds.
Of course, I can also walk into a dyke event now without anyone batting an eye. It's still presumption, but it's in my favour. And it's something that I like. I think. I don't know how to feel about the change in reception in women's studies/gender-studies classes though, especially gender studies classes.
I see older gender-variant women in my neighbourhood. Those fifty-five and over tend to be genial; those in their mid thirties or forties tend to radiate standoffish and isolated, even in couples. I wonder why this is. So I try to not to let it get me down. It's hard, and sometimes the smiles and laughter come out of a place of coping rather than enjoying; the politeness is there because it's not a good time to smash glass.
It's shitty that we have to make these trades to be ourselves. Another world is possible. Sometimes it's a long way off, but in some spaces, for some people, we bring it closer than we'd think.
- Amy
"You're in the right washroom," I shout, as the 'woman' sign swings by her face.
She turns again, walks past me silent, awkward.
So I'm glad that my voice practice work is bearing fruit, otherwise this wouldn't work. It's good timing too, since electrolysis demands growing hair out for two days before getting it zapped.
My reflexive, and increasingly egalitarian, politeness is working for me. When I drop by the women's centre and the local rubes stare at me (to say work on why it is that some of the space users have been bothering and/or kicking out girls with short hair), I look back waiting for them to say something. This is not a ruse, it's just my reflexive oh, I see someone is trying to catch my eye, I will indicate that I am approachable for help or conversation.
They never say anything. They realize what they're doing.
It seems that when I go about resolving awkward tension with an aura of hello equal-person, you seem uncomfortable. Can I assist? this defuses the tension that would come about from either of us having to justify ourselves.
Still, the washroom incident bothers me. I think of the pub upstairs and how that could have worked out if it was there instead of on the office level and it had been drunk-woman-and-drunk-boyfriend-outside.
The realization of my overall reduction in mobility is weighing on me now. I think of finding work. Or dating. Or just traveling in rural areas.
I also need to realize that, even as male(-ish), I was not welcome in many men's environments (such as some rural trades sites), but the overall change drives home how social factors of risk, acceptance and such shape all of our worlds.
Of course, I can also walk into a dyke event now without anyone batting an eye. It's still presumption, but it's in my favour. And it's something that I like. I think. I don't know how to feel about the change in reception in women's studies/gender-studies classes though, especially gender studies classes.
I see older gender-variant women in my neighbourhood. Those fifty-five and over tend to be genial; those in their mid thirties or forties tend to radiate standoffish and isolated, even in couples. I wonder why this is. So I try to not to let it get me down. It's hard, and sometimes the smiles and laughter come out of a place of coping rather than enjoying; the politeness is there because it's not a good time to smash glass.
It's shitty that we have to make these trades to be ourselves. Another world is possible. Sometimes it's a long way off, but in some spaces, for some people, we bring it closer than we'd think.
- Amy
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 05:18 pm (UTC)