Everybody Knows

Going out en femme can be terrifying for the first time as well as for the millionth time. However, for the most part, it gets easier each time one struts out of the house.

We worry about passing or getting read or people knowing we are transgender. I don’t think that passing is real and I think if we wait until we “pass” to experience the world we risk staying home forever.

I don’t think anyone on the planet will ever mistake me for a cisgender girl. And that’s fine because they are absolutely correct. I am not a cisgender girl. I am trans. In a way, it’s not unlike someone knowing I am right-handed. I am right-handed, lol. What matters is how someone will respond to me, a trans girl.

Over the last fifteen years or so of going out, almost all of my experiences have been overwhelmingly positive or incredibly mundane, Mundane experiences are lovely. Like, the barista or the salesclerk or the person holding the door for me couldn’t care less that I am trans. Each person I interact with has a choice regarding how they choose to respond to me. If they didn’t like trans people they probably wouldn’t hold the door open for me and they probably wouldn’t engage in small talk as they ring up my purchase.

Everybody knows I am transgender and very, very few people have gone out of their way to make sure they know that they “don’t agree with my lifestyle” of whatever. But these haters are just a drop in the ocean of support, love, kindness, and, well, apathy.

I spent a recent Saturday at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. I go there often for a few reasons. I love art and it’s a lovely, peaceful way to spend a few hours after a busy and stressful week. Another reason is that it’s in the same building as the Children’s Theatre Company where I frequently see plays. I usually wander around the museum before I see a performance.

But I also go there because I always have a positive and affirming visit as a gender nonconforming person. It’s not uncommon for someone to compliment my dress or marvel at how I can manage all those steps in *those* heels. I don’t really think that, as a rule, “crossdresser friendly” businesses exists but if they did, I think museums, based on my experiences, would be on that list.

Also, if you are an art lover, you are probably aware of how many artists are/were queer. Chances are that museum patrons are supportive, or at least tolerant, of the LGBTQ+ community.

This past Saturday was, unbeknownst to me, the annual fundraising event that the museum holds, well, annually. That’s how annual fundraisers work. Anyway, the museum was featuring beautiful floral arrangements from a local florist so in addition to the normal museum goers on a rainy Saturday, and the visitors there to help raise donations, there were also people there to look at the flowers.

Essentially the museum was PACKED. When I walked in I quickly realized that this was not going to be a typical, low-key Saturday afternoon. As a t-girl I used to be nervous around that many people. I mean, the more people the more likely it is that there will be someone who feels it’s appropriate or their responsibility to let me know that my aforementioned lifestyle isn’t to their liking.

But years and years of busy malls have calmed this fear. Frequent visits to this museum have also shown me that I was in a safe place, even if the crowds are larger than usual.

I was dressed for a play that evening, so I was a little more glammed up than I normally would be for a day out. I spent some time at a coffee shop and popped by a bookstore and I probably was the only girl in both places dressed for a night at the theatre. I was reminded of this as I parked my car and walked into the museum.

I felt perfectly attired for the museum, actually. Yes, there were countless people in sensible shoes (whatever those are) and hoodies and leggings, but there were also other girls there in gorgeous gowns. This particular museum is absolutely breathtaking when it comes to architecture and it is not unusual for girls to take pictures there before a formal event. This Saturday was obviously prom for many high schools and there were dozens of teenagers in floor length gowns.

This is the outfit I wore, and these are the stilettos I strutted around in.

I think I looked amazing, lol.

The dress was a thrift store find and the heels are from OnlyMaker. The heels are higher than what I normally wear so I was even taller than usual.

At my most optimistic, I really don’t think there are as many people in the world that hate us. I know there is a lot of fearmongering and legislation against us, but with around eight billion people on earth I think these haters make up a smaller percentage than we think it does. The haters are just loud, that’s all. This volume can be mistaken for the majority but I don’t necessarily think this is always the norm.

More people in a museum or a mall or whatever does increase the likelihood of a hater, though. I mean, that’s how statistics and probability works, right? However, if I am feeling optimistic, it also increases the likelihood of positive experiences, right?

This day brought four different moments that ranged from affirming to being a confidant.

After about fifteen minutes of wandering the exhibit featuring art and sculpture from Asia, someone approached me and asked where I buy my heels. I told him and he said he has pairs from them as well but has a hard time walking in them. He was keeping his voice down and it seemed to me that he wanted to keep our conversation discreet. Fair enough and absolutely understandable and relatable. We chatted for a minute or so about balance, momentum, posture, and heel-toe, heel-toe, and that walking in heels isn’t the same as walking in “boy shoes”. He thanked me and disappeared into the crowd.

Was I read? Did this guy know that I am transgender? Obviously. I mean, it’s never a surprise to me that someone sees me and figures out that I am not a cisgender girl. I have too many features that are traditionally thought of as masculine. One or two on their own is one thing, but between my jawline, my adam’s apple, my height, my frame… it doesn’t take much to piece it all together.

I was absolutely fine with being read here. It wasn’t about gender or anything like that, it was a quick chat between two people who likely have similar experiences when it comes to finding heels that fit.

I kept exploring the museum and I rounded a corner when a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, looked up and her eyes widened. “Whoa”, was all she said. I imagine to many children they are used to being around giant adults, but when the adult is wearing five inch stilettos the effect is more pronounced.

I said hi, and she said hi back. Her mom was there and we exchanged hellos and smiles.

“She’s really tall!” she said to her mom after I stepped away.

“High heels can make someone taller”, her mom replied.

A few moments later the mom handed me her phone and I took a photo of them in front of a demon statue from Japan.

It was getting time to meet Shannonlee in the theatre lobby so I made my way to the museum entrance. I sat on a bench and a few minutes later two ladies sat next to me. They were older than I was, perhaps in their late sixties. We chatted for a few minutes and one of them leaned over and said “you’re transexual, aren’t you?”

I winced a tiny bit at what I feel is an outdated term but I decided to be polite and said that I was. She smiled and said that she knew it. We chatted for about a half hour about the weather, past productions of the theatre, and other things.

Again, was I read? Yaaas. Did I mind? No. She was polite and not a single thing changed in our conversation. I imagined she was a bit of an oversharer and perhaps she also says whatever is on her mind even if the comment isn’t necessarily something you just… ask someone. I mean, asking someone if they are transgender within a few minutes of meeting someone isn’t usually appropriate.

But I didn’t mind because she didn’t converse with me any differently. I don’t care if someone knows I am transgender (after all, I am) but if they interact with me in a different way BECAUSE I am transgender, then I am bothered by it.

The play we were attending was the opening night of the production. The Children’s Theatre pulls out all the stops on opening night and they roll out a literal red carpet and usually have a faaaaancy reception before the play. One of the ladies I was chatting with nudged me and said “Isn’t that…”

And it was. It was Jacob Frey, the mayor of Minneapolis.

Before anyone gets too worked up, the mayor isn’t that popular or liked. Republicans hate him because he’s a Democrat and Democrats hate him because he isn’t very progressive. From my perspective he’s kind of hard to pin down in terms of what decisions he will make. There’s nothing inherently wrong with a conservative liberal, but I think if you are the leader of a city or a community than your job is to serve the people. Minneapolis is a fairly progressive city, but I don’t feel that the mayor is as progressive as his constituents elected him to be.

I walked him to said I was sorry to bother him but I had never met a mayor before. He asked my name, we had about a minute of small talk, and then he was pulled away by someone else.

It was an unusual way to end the reception but it was also kind of random and funny.

The day was really lovely. I looked cute, my heels, despite how they looked were comfortable, the play was fun, and the world reminded me once again how wonderful it can be.

Love, Hannah