Tag: places

singulata

So, meeting where a lot of the speakers preceding me show the header from (Deadname et al., Nature 2015) because it was relevant. A little surreal, since I also talk at the meeting and so everyone sees my transitioning, but no-one asks or comments. All in all good, I want this, it helps me know they know me as trans and accept me, and it increases my visibility. But some people misgender me occasionally with pronouns and it hurts every time, leaves me reeling, keeping active. Most do not. For every rare hint of weird looks in the ladies’ room, there is a rare event of someone striking up conversation.

All in all good. This is me. I move forward.

Then the damn hotel sends me a receipt addressed to fucking Monsieur Newname Lastname after I asked them to mail it. Is it really that bad, so that random hotel clerk spontaneously believe I must be a cis man despite dress and purple lipstick? Is my voice so deep, my face so long, something manly in my manners? What flaw drove this, is it something I can fix? Not knowing what it is, I feel so helpless. Certainly a service person would not waste time actively misgendering, so it must be the honest belief, that the thought I might be a trans woman does not even strike them? What sort of monumental masculinity is this, that overpowers everything else?

I exaggerate and sarcast, because I am bitter. I really cannot tell myself how I come across, and all my kindly loved ones just see me as they know I want them to see me. So I have no idea how strangers see me, but this makes me really deeply sad and ruminating on what could be wrong. I focus on what could be wrong because I must focus on something fixable. I’ll do anything, but what even can I do?

gaos disgordian

This day was… hard, so far. Mostly for minor and weird reasons. I took too long to pack and prepare, washing hair and deliberating over makeup, as I want to look good for tonight – meeting mother for first time since coming out fully to her, and not sure how that will go. Then I realized I have less pills left than I thought – in fact, not enough for my current journey I embark on, writing this on plane – and realized eventually this is because I thought “90 tablets = 90 days” without remembering I have a 2-a-day regime. So scrambled to set things up so my endocrinologist can fax a prescription to a pharmacy in my birth country. Six days supply left. The thought of not having T suppression is not one I want to dwell on.

Then was late, and bus rides took long, and train rides were delayed separately, and then the second train was cancelled. Spent 150EUR on a taxi hurrying to the airport. Then had to bully my way into fast baggage checkin, fast pass through security, got an extra check there and had to nag them to actually resolve it, had to run – in heels, on moving walkways – to catch the plane and board. All stressful.

At least security checkpoint person called me lady without prompting.

Also trying to resolve housing issues that arose – may need to mortgage for a higher total than planned as contract spells out repairs needing to happen. Need to get a tax advisor to see if I can deduct any of that, too.

And was supposed to make headway on urgently delayed code work today. Did not happen.

I have another hour before we land, so I should start. Then tonight, will meet and have dinner with mother. I am anticipatory of that.