I have received several comments here in Cyrsti's Condo concerning transgender public acceptance I wanted to share with you.
The first comes from Gracie:
I had a similar validating experience at the 5/3 office on Fountain Square. I had euros left over from a trip that I wanted to convert to dollars. I was chatting with the teller and the adjacent teller (I was the only customer at the time).
Everything was going fine until the teller asked for my ID. Not sure why the needed it, but their process wanted to link the transaction to someone in their records. So I reached in my purse and handed her my male drivers license. She started typing from the license, then got a confused look. She looked at me and then looked at the license and started fumbling for words. In my male voice, I said, " I wasn't dressed as nicely for the license photo." She smiled and continued on with the process. When I left she said that it was really a pleasure to meet me. The guard held the door on my way out and said, " Good morning Ma'am" . Great validation. I was on cloud nine.
Thanks Gracie! So exciting!!
The second comes from Connie and her unique personality:
The other day, I did my weekly grocery shopping (the only thing I'm doing in public these days). I was trying to ignore the dysphoria that lingered from what I saw in the bathroom mirror at home. It's always been the lipstick that adds the finishing feminine touch to my appearance - to me, anyway. Wearing a mask over made-up lips seems ridiculous, if not downright messy, so I left the house feeling somewhat undone.
While the checker was running my items through, I made some smartass remark (who, me?), and it suddenly dawned on me that my facial expression may not have been detectable because of the mask. Also, I couldn't tell if the young man behind the counter knew I was joking because he was wearing a mask, too. I immediately followed up with saying, "I just realized that no one can see my smile behind the mask. I was just joking...really!" The woman in line behind me, who was not wearing a mask, had heard me, and she bust out laughing. Aside from the probability that her robust laughing was sending airborne particles far beyond the six foot safe zone, the incident completely distracted me from my dysphoria at that moment.
Even though, after I'd loaded the car with my purchases, I applied my lipstick in the rear-view mirror for the mask-less drive home, I did so out of a positive attitude, and not out of a desire to mask my dysphoria from myself. Hmmm, should I call it an "e-mask-ulating experience? :-)