There is a silent dance I am learning the steps to as I navigate the world in a non-conforming body. Under the protection of clothing, I can go unnoticed. Unvalidated even. I’m gendered female by strangers 95% of the time, but all is revealed when the shirt comes off now.
Approaching potential shirtless in public occasions feels a bit like the build up to a first date. You are equal parts nervous and excited. I started practicing going topless with my friends. It felt safer, but not exactly a good insight into the real world. They were so wonderfully inconspicuous, you would think there was nothing different about me. Everyone kept their eyes level and conversations focused. I could have stripped naked and no one would have batted an eyelid they were so busy trying not to pay too much attention. It was too controlled an environment, surely in public i’m going to get more looks and whispers.
Heading back to the gym was were I was building myself up for the first public appearance. Thanks to my notoriously unpopular gym however, the change room hasn’t been the place of revelation I was expecting. Not a bloody soul in three months. Great if you want to take full liberties with the toilet, not so great if you are nervous and trying to rip the bandaid off your debut performance.
It wasn’t until I started undressing for a massage the other week that I suddenly realised this would be my first viewing from a stranger. Shit, this is it! I laid face-down on the table, congratulating myself for throwing out the daggy underwear last week, and thought about how this could go. Very little conversation was had before she left me to undress so there was no indication what gender she assumed I was.
I wonder what she is expecting to see when I roll over? How much is the towel going to cover my chest when I move? Should I warn her about the scars? After some deliberation, I decided I would approach the situation with strategic silence. She ran her hands firmly across the top of my chest and down to my sternum. It might have felt nice were I not so anxious. Much to my relief, silence was also her weapon of choice. Perhaps she had massaged trans people before? Maybe she is too professional to react to people’s bodies in front of them? Maybe it is actually no big deal and I’ve been getting myself worked up over nothing? Either way, it built my confidence to keep being comfortable in public. Even if it was in a little dark room with one other person.
The next stage was much bigger. I went on a beach cruise with my family over the Christmas holidays. We don’t see each other often so it was nice to do something special, but it also meant there was more responsibility. I had been so busy thinking about what the experience was going to be like for me, I hadn’t considered what it meant for my family to be put in such a position. When you are used to being a minority or target for discriminatory comments, you develop an unconscious resilience. An automatic force field built up over time that knows all the moves and prevents them from getting through.
If I’m more experienced in responding to ignorance perhaps I should have prepared them better? Maybe I should have let them know what I expected from them if something came up? But I didn’t. I didn't even think about it. I just jumped straight into the deep end and hoped they were right behind me. Since we hadn’t discussed it, I didn’t really know whether they would jump. It’s one thing to say you love and accept someone’s identity in private, it’s another thing to know how to defend that in public.
To do that well requires education, experience and pride. You can’t rely on just one of these things to be an ally and communicate with the general public. You can’t be well informed, but not feel comfortable talking about it to others. You can’t just rely on the fact that you have been ‘accepting’ for so long you must be proud and knowledgeable, without actually seeking any education or conversations about how to be supportive. You can’t defend someone proudly, if you haven’t taken the time to know what you are defending. You aren’t just an ‘ally’ by mere association, there is a lot of responsibility. A responsibility loved ones may or may not choose to take on.
My family and I are still working out what our responsibilities are to each other. My sister looked to me when the boat captain asked why she referred to me as her ‘sibling’ not 'brother or sister'. He’d been watching me all morning with a curious look on his face so it was bound to happen.
“Did you want to take this one, Em?"
While I wanted to hear her response, I knew it wasn't the first time she'd had conversations like this. And granted it is probably a lot harder when the subject is right in front of you, so I took it. I explained the concept of non-binary to him in a few short sentences while my family listened in, eyes averted.
It isn’t always clear who should bear the burden of responsibility to educate. This is why it is worth talking about how you can share it. I’ll admit, i’m still learning how to invite family and friends into my world, and they are learning how to be a part of it and to bring others in.
When I turned to my cousin on the beach early that day and nervously asked
“Do you think it would be ok to take my shirt off here?” unbeknownst to her, and everyone else, it was going to be my first time in public.
She smiled and replied without hesitation, “yeah, go for it!” and we jumped in the water together.
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