It Finally Happened
I have been expecting this since the whole bathroom thing has become front page news along with the stupidity trying to legislate something that is so personal but apparent the public at large needs to know what is (or was) in our pants at the time of our birth.
It was a Cheesecake Factory in Knoxville. I was there with Peter, Caroline, Ariel and her fiancé Anthony. I had put my bag on the chair next to me so I didn’t have it over my shoulder.
Now I am not the most feminine person on the planet. I have broad shoulders compared to most women and large hands, which is great for a puppeteer. I don’t wear make-up. I was wearing a loose t-shirt and black sweatpants with black shoes. I had my hair pulled back behind my head.
(For the VI: This is me with a black shirt and black pants and two puppet fish on my arms. Blue on the right and Red on the Left.)
I walked into the bathroom to find two older ladies washing their hands and chatting.
They saw me and stopped talking and gave me such a look. They turned back and I heard one say to the other, “Are they in the right restroom?” not exactly quietly.
It is not that I haven’t seen that look before in my life. In fact it is one that I have gotten use to over the years. But now things were a little different. I knew that they were trying to figure out what my “deal” was and this was happening all over America to people who are just trying to pee. It annoyed me in a way it hasn’t annoyed me not because I gave a crap what they thought my gender was but because walking into a restroom should not be a gauntlet of proof to just use a stall.
I had become an it.
So I did something that I hate to do. I straightened up and thrust out my chest and flipped my hair to make my ponytail come over my shoulder. They saw my shape and relaxed. That I had to do that to walk across a room to pee makes me very angry.
It is sad that going to the bathroom has become such an adventure.
I am not going to start wearing make-up or tighter shirts to make others more comfortable in a restroom. I will go with anyone who needs to use the women’s room and defend their right to use the facilities.
I know what I am. I feel for anyone who had doubts about being accepted for who they are.
All I needed to do is pee and I have spent the entire afternoon stewing about just walking into a restroom.
I am grateful to those who just let people be themselves.
It was a Cheesecake Factory in Knoxville. I was there with Peter, Caroline, Ariel and her fiancé Anthony. I had put my bag on the chair next to me so I didn’t have it over my shoulder.
Now I am not the most feminine person on the planet. I have broad shoulders compared to most women and large hands, which is great for a puppeteer. I don’t wear make-up. I was wearing a loose t-shirt and black sweatpants with black shoes. I had my hair pulled back behind my head.
(For the VI: This is me with a black shirt and black pants and two puppet fish on my arms. Blue on the right and Red on the Left.)
I walked into the bathroom to find two older ladies washing their hands and chatting.
They saw me and stopped talking and gave me such a look. They turned back and I heard one say to the other, “Are they in the right restroom?” not exactly quietly.
It is not that I haven’t seen that look before in my life. In fact it is one that I have gotten use to over the years. But now things were a little different. I knew that they were trying to figure out what my “deal” was and this was happening all over America to people who are just trying to pee. It annoyed me in a way it hasn’t annoyed me not because I gave a crap what they thought my gender was but because walking into a restroom should not be a gauntlet of proof to just use a stall.
I had become an it.
So I did something that I hate to do. I straightened up and thrust out my chest and flipped my hair to make my ponytail come over my shoulder. They saw my shape and relaxed. That I had to do that to walk across a room to pee makes me very angry.
It is sad that going to the bathroom has become such an adventure.
I am not going to start wearing make-up or tighter shirts to make others more comfortable in a restroom. I will go with anyone who needs to use the women’s room and defend their right to use the facilities.
I know what I am. I feel for anyone who had doubts about being accepted for who they are.
All I needed to do is pee and I have spent the entire afternoon stewing about just walking into a restroom.
I am grateful to those who just let people be themselves.