You Don't Know Me

You don’t know me. How could you? I’ve lived with myself for just shy of 59 years and I don’t know me. But somehow, in that moment, you wanted to try to define me, to put me in some box, to use words to hurt me. All I did was enforce the mask rule that we have where I was volunteering on Saturday. I made it clear that I didn’t want or need an argument. Our house, our rules. If you don’t like it, you can leave. Seems rather clear.

However, on the way out, you chose to attack me for my gender. Immediately and directly I made it clear that the topic of my gender was not something we were discussing. And as we walked a few steps closer to the exit, the person you were with chose to intentionally misgender me by calling me, “sir”. I corrected the person and said, “I prefer ‘ma’am’”. He exclaimed, “no offense” and I said, “offense taken.” The rest of the journey to the door was about masks and how they don’t believe in them. Both repeated that they would just take their business elsewhere. I thanked them and we bid each other a good day. It wasn’t until I was explaining what happened to my supervisor that I realized I needed to step away and go cry. I am at the point where I am thinking about my gender less than I have in the past. I just want to be me and live my life.

This happened two days ago and I have reflected on it often. Perhaps if she knew how much this affected me, it would have changed her view. Perhaps if she realized how much I was struggling, it would tug on some shred of empathy. Perhaps if she saw my tears, she would have seen me as the female that is portrayed too often in society. And that sexist statement is rather ironic. Every woman in my life. Every. One. Is strong beyond belief. My wife, my daughter, my mother, my sisters, my friends and coworkers are all amazingly strong women who inspire me.

Dysphoria is very real and the comments made on Saturday were triggering. The flood of anxiety and uneasiness were

quick and are lingering. Dysphoria is something I live with and I have strategies that help. Getting absorbed in nature is a big one and consequently, I spent much time outdoors the last two days. Breathing, meditation and journaling also help. Most of my thoughts live in the past and the future. Training them to stay in the present is a challenge.

There are indigenous people who refer to people like me as “two spirits”. In native cultures, such people were valued. As time goes on, that is more how I see myself. I think I have a greater understanding of people because I have lived both ends of the gender spectrum.

I am considering trying to have a conversation with this couple. The fact that they are choosing not to wear masks while holding their young son during a raging pandemic clues me in that they may not be the most reasonable or open-minded individuals. Perhaps I should give them a chance. Maybe that is opening myself up to more hurt. Since the incident 43 hours ago, I have thought of all sorts of comments I could have made. Most of them would fall into the category of zingers and some would be mean-spirited. In reality, I should be thankful for this opportunity to reflect. I should be thankful that this was a test of me using my support system. I was hurting and I needed some affirmations and validation. I am fortunate to have such caring and wise women in my life. This event has helped me to realize how seldom I have to face this. While it reminds me our community still has work to do to be accepting of everyone, we are making progress. I am trying to focus on the positives of my journey, of the changes I have seen in the last 5 - 10 years. It is important to me that I use this incident as an opportunity for growth and change, not just in others, but also in myself.

I welcome any advice or feedback. What would you do in my situation?