So the other day, my dad decided to go to Costco. And if you went there before, you know that they require a card in order to get in. My dad, being cheap as usual, borrowed my aunt’s card. He’s afraid of getting busted because my dad is, literarily, the furthest creature from a woman. So he yelled me out, and persuaded me to go with him.
I stared at him obnoxiously and replied, “What makes you think they will think I’m a girl?”
He looked at me, bottom to top, and laughed. Take a guess why.
Yes, I pass as a guy. Not so much now, but before… you have no idea. I could go into any men’s washroom, even men’s change room at YMCA, or at the swimming facilities. And no one, zero guys would be able to tell that I’m a girl. You know why I know? Go figure.
Now I’m not bragging here. I know most trans guys want to pass as a guy. But I don’t. Always being mistaken as a guy IS my problem. I mean, it’s cool to hear people say “Have a nice day, Sir”; but it’s NOT cool when I’m trying to go into a female bathroom. Take this for instance.
It’s a normal school day with normal classes with normal people and my normal routine of going to the washroom. (You know where this is going, don’t you?) I choose to go during class so that not many people would be there, hopefully none. So I held my breath, pushed open the door with a pink sign of woman-in-skirt on it, and ventured in.
Shit, I thought. Apparently some junior girls are having a mini party down there. Discussing and applying makeup. (Duh, what else would girls do?) When my image appeared in the mirrors, they turned 180 degrees, and carefully examined me in awe, as if I’m some monster from Mars. I think a girl with the half-applied-heavy-eyeliner was scarier than me though. “Why is this… guy in our girl’s washroom?” Their confusion was clear in their eyes.
And me, being experienced in these situations, calmly replied, “What’s wrong?” Trying to sound innocent. I could’ve replied their rudeness, but I’m too kind to do so. (Yeah right… ) By this point, they would’ve tell, from my voice, that I’m in fact a girl. My voice is deeper than most girls, but not as deep as guys. Mission complete.
I went into the cubicle, did my thing, washed my hands, and rushed out of the door. Oh wait, not yet. Just about I was going to leave the washroom, a girl hurried in and saw me. A little startled would be an understatement to describe her expression. She quickly hurried back to the door, made sure she did not mistaken pink by blue, until then she could finally go back in. “Oh, poor thing…” I thought, and left with a smirk on my face. It would’ve been funnier if it’s April Fool’s Day though.
Okay, that wasn’t so bad, I have to admit. But what about another time at church when I just stepped into the washroom, and this 70-year-old lady dragged me out. It took me 5 minutes to convince her that I am a girl! I was that close to pull my pants off. (She wish!)
So it definitely can get annoying at times, to an extent that I thought it’d much easier for me to just switch to men’s washroom. (Brilliant idea, wasn’t it?) I couldn’t do that at school since people know me, but it’s a piece of cake at other public places. It worked out well for me until I decided that I never ever wanna see another dick in my whole entire life. (No offence to any guys here.)
Chameleons adapt to their environments by altering their skin colors. So do I. Eventually, I learned to grow my hair out a bit longer, and dress a tint less manly so I can get into the damn washroom without been killed by girls’ glares.
This was not a problem for me since unisex clothes are super popular in East Asia. (Yes, I buy clothes, including binders, from China. It not only stimulates the country’s economy [like they really needed foreign currencies], easier to find sizes, they have cooler clothes, and last but not least, it’s cheaper, even plus shipping. Wow I feel like a salesperson.) Oh and you guys are not gonna believe this, dressing up like a tomboy (I don’t like the word “dyke”) is now a fashion among girls in East Asia, especially China, Japan and Korea. Fashion, baby! We are cool! (High five anyone? )
Anyways, I digress. My gender identity has always brought me more trouble than me sexual orientation. If I had to put a label on myself, I would identify as androgynous. I feel neither female nor male, or rather both. Even though I dress up like a guy, I don’t have top or bottom dysphorias. I feel great in my own body. And like Daniel Pink said in his bestselling book “A Whole New Mind”: Great minds are androgynous. (Did anyone read the book by any chance? I’m weird, I know, I read non-fictions for fun.)
Today, while me and my friends are sitting on the grass, resting from a thrilling Frisbee game, I brought up the topic of my gender identity. (We talk about everything.) I’ve always been very vocal about my sexual orientation, so I thought I’d talk about something else for a change.
“I actually don’t feel like a girl inside, but I don’t feel like a guy either. I’m…” Before I could finish my sentence, I was interrupted by my friend Rachel.
“I don’t care what you are. You are Will.” She said, with a genuine smile on her face.
“That’s right.” I smiled back. And gave her a warm bear-hug in sweat.