Encountering Bigotry

I attended a commencement ceremony at a local high school the other evening because I had some scholarship awards to present as part of my job. In fact, it’s one of my favorite aspects of my jobs, but this was the first time I would actually present the scholarships on stage. And I felt anxious.

I didn’t feel anxious because I had to be on stage. I’m fairly comfortable with that by this point, after sharing stories in four storytelling shows last year. I rather like being on stage. I was slightly concerned about mispronouncing the student’s names, and about not knowing how the logistics of the evening would run. Above all though, I was anxious because this was an unknown environment. It was very public, and I would be very visible, even if only for a few moments. Those factors combined to make me anxious; not disfunctionally anxious, but the low-level kind of anxiety that saps your confidence and leaves you hesitant. Perhaps this strikes you as overblown. I’d like to agree with you, but when you’re a transgender person, being in a very visible position in a public setting where you don’t know how people will respond to you can be deeply disturbing. I shared my anxiety with a couple people prior to the event and left for the school encouraged by their words of affirmation and support.

As my moment to present approached, I focused my mind on the confidence I have developed over the past couple years. I certainly was capable of making this presentation. Ultimately it wasn’t about me anyway. It was about the students. My name was called by the student body president who was hosting the program (and who pronounced my name correctly, with a beautiful Spanish roll on the r!), and I walked onto the stage. I announced the awards, invited the three students to receive their certificates, and just like that it was over.

Except it wasn’t.

Having completed my presentation and having no compelling reason to linger for the rest of the ceremony, I slipped out of the auditorium. I stopped in the restroom so that I could drive home comfortably. While sitting in my stall minding my own business, I heard a woman and a child, a girl if I were to assess solely on the voice, enter the room. They were talking about the previous presenter – meaning me, and how surprised the student receiving the award (whom I understood they knew) must have been when they saw and heard me. The older woman told the child that people like that (me!) are just confused and don’t understand how god made them. She went on to say some other things, including that all you could do for people like that (me!) was “have pity on them and pray that god will help them get straightened out.” Her tone as she spoke struck me as very condescending, annoyingly so, given that I was the subject of her remarks.

They had no idea I was in the restroom. I wanted to complete my business in time to come out and confront them, but was unable to do so and they had left by the time I was done. It’s probably for the best, because by that point I was seething with anger over the insults she had so casually thrown at me. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t realize she was doing it. That she would speak that way about someone like me when she thinks she is in private testifies to what’s in her heart. I felt such rage as I drove home – thankfully I didn’t take it out on any other drivers – and I spent much of the remainder of the evening working to release that emotion so that it didn’t consume me.

Obviously it still bothers me, though my fierce anger has burned off. This wasn’t just a matter of someone expressing that they disagreed with my views, or that they disliked the way I dressed, or some other attribute about me. This woman’s words invalidated my very existence. In her mind, I am a mistake. I don’t deserve to live as the person I am. She knows nothing about me. She has never met me, spoken to me, learned anything about my character. She dismissed me based solely on her beliefs about what makes someone a man or woman. I would have liked to tell her that I am not confused about my identity. I’ve never been more clear and certain about it. I don’t need to get straightened out. I’m just fine as I am. I hope that the child will come to understand that the words this woman spoke that evening were untrue, that they came from a place of ignorance and bigotry. I hope that the students I spoke to recognize the diversity of human identity and expression, that they affirm and promote it, rather than perpetuating narrow lies.

While the evening could have turned out far worse for me, in ways I don’t even want to explore here, it was still a rude reminder that transgender people have a long road ahead before our lives are fully accepted and validated in society. I am fortunate that all those who are close to me (of course!) and all the people I regularly interact with –  at work, in stores, in my daily life – accept me for who I am. I rarely experience overt hostility and bigotry in my city. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I wonder how many people say things behind my back like this woman did when she thought she was in private. It most certainly is more than it should be, which is none.

This incident reminded me why I am so public about my transgender identity. I will continue to proudly, boldly and confidently represent my community in the public sphere. I want everyone I interact with to see that we are not ashamed of who we are. We have every right to live our lives openly and freely. We threaten no one by our existence. My life is a protest against those who would banish us from civil life. My life is a witness to the basic dignity and humanity of transgender people. We are not confused. We are not broken. We don’t need to be fixed. Don’t dismiss or disregard us. Take a chance and get to know us. You might just be surprised by what you discover.