Its for my own good. Of course it is. I mean: BEING trans is a dangerous hobby. One i’ve probably not given much thought to of late.
So what i really need are folks, according to a certain “Sound of Music” ditty, “older and wiser”, telling me what to do.
They only have my best intersts at heart: but it still hurts.
OK. I am not going to say who or when or where or what (thereby breaking every journalistic principle in the book). Those involved know my feelings on this matter: so if they happen to read this piece, it adds little i’ve not said already. And i’m not going to add fuel to the fire by outing cis queasiness.
Way back at the beginning of my transition, i was aghast when a drama group – a group that claimed publically to be ever so edgy and just that bit gender queer – politely suggested i back away from performing with them because it “would be unfair to me”. Huh?
Unpacking that i got a bit more stuff about “time of stress”: and digging a little deeper, they were just that bit concerned as to how parents of young girls in the company might view their daughters acting alongside a tranny.
Yeah. Right. Twas all for MY benefit.
But still, most nastiness over the intervening couple of years has come pretty much as labelled. “Fucking tranny” is the obvious on-street insult, coupled with the occasional suggestion that the hurler of said insult would like to do something physical and violent to me.
Until a couple of weeks ago when – blow me! – the same old narrative surfaced again. Organisers of an activity that i much enjoy suddenly and out of the blue suggested i not help out. Why? Er, well: it was for my own safety.
Bizarrely: they had gone off and discussed the issue and my safety and the implications for all concerned because i might just be too embarrassed to raise the issue myself. Cause, you know, us trannies are just like children and we need grown-ups to take our decisions for us!
And when THAT particular argument didn’t seem to have me jumping for joy, there was the fallback. THEY have no problem at all with whatever i am doing (I particularly liked the “whatever”). But some people… OTHER people… might have issues, which could lead to nasty scenes in public that would be distressing for others in the group.
Still, i needn’t be too upset, cause i could still help out in ways that, maybe, weren’t so much in the public gaze.
Flabbergasted. Hurt. Very, very, very hurt. Because, of course, whatever the outcome now, i don’t see how i can go back to before. Not for a while anyway.
So cis “concern” for my well-being means i won’t be doing something i much enjoyed: won’t be helping a voluntary project which does need support.
And i SILL don’t think those involved totally get it!