Never assume anything….

Have you ever been kicked when you were down?

I look like what I look like

I have.

I’ve been misgendered on and off my whole life. I’ve mostly learned to shrug it off. We can’t all fit a gender stereotype, and I don’t really try. But most people figure it out pretty quickly.

On Saturday night, we’d been to watch the football, and I was wearing football-watching clothes, a football t shirt, jeans and football jacket. We ended up at Cubadupa afterwards. Cubadupa is a street festival and a place where the normal attire is sequins and clubbing gear. So, I was definitely underdressed, but I didn’t feel too self conscious, after all, it’s Cuba Street, anything goes.

We were picking our way through crowds and I had my hands full of phone, cup and balloon. I had had a couple of drinks but was definitely not drunk. Out of the blue I tripped over something and before I knew it I was sprawled on the floor. I landed on my knees and knuckles and ended up with cuts and bruises. As I was picking myself up, embarrassed, I heard, distinctly, a guy (I assume) who was on the phone, say ‘Oh, a middle-aged dude has just fallen over’.

Nothing makes me madder than someone making assumptions about me, and this person made two, which both had the potential to offend. I was, safe to say, enraged and made sure this person knew how upset I was. It ruined my night. I went home shortly afterwards, to lick my wounds, both physical and metaphorical, and couldn’t sleep, while I reconsidered my life choices.

The point is not that I was misgendered (or age shamed). The point is that this person on the phone felt the need to declare my apparent age and gender. I may be ‘middle aged’, but there’s nothing wrong with my hearing and more to the point, there’s no need to verbalise these things. He could have said ‘Oh, someone has just fallen over,’ before rushing to help me.

I’m certain this person doesn’t feel as badly as I did afterwards, though if the boot had been on the other foot, I would have been mortified. Being called middle aged is judgemental enough, though at least that is pretty true. Being called a dude: well, think about how you would feel. You simply don’t know what others are going through. Even the strongest of us struggle to handle small things like this sometimes.

I switched to adding pronouns to my email signature some time ago, after experience alongside a trans co-worker. I didn’t understand the proliferation of pronouns for a while. Then I realised that for those people who are unable to be readily identified as their gender, being misgendered is a constant stress and trauma. If we normalise self-identification, it becomes less of an oddity.

A pronoun badge wouldn’t have saved me on Saturday night. But now I know what it’s like to be kicked when you’re down. Unintentional or not, all I can say is, try not to do that. I didn’t deserve it, and it’s hard to see how anyone does.

It’s a small thing but trying to avoid making personal judgements about appearances (and certainly in earshot) is something we can all do. It would have saved me a sleepless night and a blow to my self-esteem.