This might turn into a bit of a ramble, sorry....
Passing... it's a topic that I obsessed over for so long I almost can't remember when it started. Certainly it's something I was thinking about before I even had 'transition' as a frame to place my thoughts within. Somewhere it's something I've managed to forget about, and I think that happened about the time I finally manifested as an an actual human being rather than a patchwork of frustrated aspirations and a twisted downwardly corkscrewing mess of abstract ideals. I just have no idea when that was.
Explaining this will take some backgrounding of myself. Physically I have several problematic markers with passing as female. I am well over 6 foot, and though I have a gg cousin who is 1/8th of an inch shorter than me ( which is
very important) this is always something I've been self-concious about. I have big hands for a girl, and my feet hit size 14 F (U.S) when
I hit 14.... there are quite a few things that make me feel as feminine as Bill Beaumont, basically. Which is a little funny because in many ways I trend to the girly end of being a girl; I
like make-up, I wear skirts or dresses for
preference most times, I spend way way way too long getting ready to go out if I'm left to my own devices, I fill many stereotypes. But I am myself in them.. I may wear skirts, but I throw on workout shorts as undies and fishnets to go skateboarding in them; sometimes I make statements with make-up and nails, but because I'm the type of person who
does that rather than as an over compensation of years when it was socially frowned on for me to glitter up before hitting town. And I have no idea when I stopped overcompensating for that and relaxed into myself.
And I havn't thought 'do I pass' for years. Which makes this incident so strange.... I've mentioned I'm tall, and tall enough to be 'questionable' even for someone F and FAAB like my cousin who's had more than a few unkind genderisms thrown at her in her time. I have big feet. I have big hands. I used to have very long hair.. like, waist long, that I started growing out when I was very young as an expression of femininity.. but I started to cut it a couple years ago because I was comfortable enough then with myself to want to see what I could do with it, and now it's somewhere between pageboy and pixie (and blue and red and gold, but thats beside the point). Umm.. and I also have a tendency to have visible body hair; very light skin and long dark hairs, even converted to estrogen I am visibly more hairy than some old school friends ever get inside a week. I wax and shave where they still congregate a lot, I suppose I'm one of natures ZZ Tops.
And somewhere along the line I've relaxed into old comfort habits, especially when travelling , like rugged sensible clothes and lots of pockets without freaking about looking like a dude. And prioritising comfort over conforming to beauty again, rather than trying my utmost to be as femme as can be to overcome my shortcomings as best I can.
And I blurb all this because; A few weeks ago I went to Montreal for a visit and something happened. I took the coach from Toronto and I was a wreck, post pride and sunburnt. Sprouting hairs because I've reached a place where I no longer have to wax lobsterised skin without freaking out about looking too male; no polish because my nails need to recover from multiple daily pimping for pride outfits; unremarkable hair for same reason; wearing stompy doc martens and knee length combat shorts (pocketses) and a collarless shirt I've kept since boy-times because I really like it, over a t-shirt... nothing visible in terms of obviously female clothing (yes.. bra is girly by default, and so were my socks and knickers but you can't see those ).Backpack on and a laptop bag hanging below it covering my hips and ass.
So to recap: Deserted bus station; Very early in the 2am travelling alone (social marker of being male); 6'3 big feet big hands (physical marker of usually male); no visible make up or nail varnish or body mods; wearing docs, combat shorts and a male shirt; short hair; multiple backbacks covering bodyshape; I hear from behind (so face and boobs don't come in to play)... Security Guard> Madamoiselle, pardon, madamoiselle? (
F*** yeah,-oiselle!
) est'ce que je pourrais vous aider?
It actually got me thinking about it again. That situation I would have brushed off being misgendered... people make assumptions and in that case not totally unreasonable or boorish, and it would have faded into their embarassment with further contact. But still wondering.... what was the feminine vibe? How did that work?
PS: Ohhh yea! Boo-Yah! OMGWTFBBQ Passorz!?!!
