I've told this story a few times before, if you will indulge me I will tell it again.
Passing has nothing to do with the PERFECT application of make up or the most
devine outfit. It has everything to do with owning the ground you stand on and your
resolve to exist even though the world would rather that you wither up and die.
Before I was able to have the pic on my drivers licience retaken, my roomate
reminded me that she needed me to make a return at a hardware store. I had
been working in the yard wearing bibs, a t-shirt and chuka boots, sans make-up.
I didn't have time for the public presentation routine. I just knew I looked like crapola
on a stick. I said @#$% it and trudged down there, steeling myself for the humiliation
that I was in for. In the course of the return, the girl behind the counter asked to see
my ID. She handed it back to me and said,"No Maam, I need to see your id." After
catching my breath and careful consideration, I handed it back to her and
said,with a smile, "Sweety, that is my ID." I floated out of the store.
I've come to realize that it wasn't untill I stopped putting so
much emphasis on HOW I LOOKED and became comfortable
with WHO I AM that I was .........."PASSABLE"