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I don't work for a big company. It's tech, and it's a small office, and everyone knows each other. The people are generally kind, I guess, and frankly, I mostly feel like I should just be so gosh darn happy to even have a job me that I shouldn't have any problems with the situation there.
I tell myself that I should just deal with the constant microaggressions, the misgendering, the fact that no one speaks to me unless they have to; I should get used to the fact that I basically get treated like garbage there, because HEY, LET'S BE REAL. As a trans woman of colour, I am literally super, duper, lucky I have a job. Not kidding. Look at the stats. Probably the only reason I'm employed right now is because I started transitioning while at this company.
So I guess what I really mean is that I'm lucky I haven't been fired yet.
How fucked up is it to say that I, a professional of 10 odd years, I feel sincerely, honestly, lucky to be considered employable? But that's the honest truth for me and other trans women of colour; our lives are so precarious that it seems like anything and everything could be taken away in a hot second.
Before coming out/while presenting as male, I had no problems finding work. I spent seven years working in South Korea, then came back to Canada and worked for several more. Whenever I left a job, I was always able to find something new, and quickly. I'm good at what I do.
So when I took out a bank loan, I didn't really think twice about it. I mean, I was always going to have a job, right? So I didn't worry about not being able to pay it back.
But now pretty much all I think about is the possibility of losing my job, and the huge challenges I would face if I had to find another one.
You might be wondering how I could lose my job -- especially if I'm as talented and hard-working as I say. But here's the thing: while talented and hard-working helped keep me safe when I presented as male, they don't mean much now that I'm out as trans. Since I started transitioning, nothing I do seems to make my boss happy. I told myself I'd just keep my head down, nose to the grindstone, and hopefully go unnoticed. Unfortunately, that didn't work as well as I'd hoped; I'm the trans elephant in the room. Even if no talks to me anymore, everyone still notices me.
I told myself, "Just get work hard and get it done. Be true to yourself, carry on with transitioning, work hard."
I've tried to do these things.
But recently I've crossed a line.
You see, with all the work I've done in transitioning, things started to get really weird in the men's washroom at work. My co-workers never said anything, but our office is in a complex, and the bathrooms are shared. I began feeling very unsafe in the bathroom whenever there someone else was in there. I started to become very acutely aware of when other people were using the washroom; I trained my ears to the sound of people going and out, so I could use it while it was empty.
Sometimes people would be in there longer than I thought possible, or I would get trapped in the stall for longer than I thought possible because I would wait until the space was empty before quickly washing my hands, drying, and getting the hell out of there. It was torturous, but I felt like listening to these dudes take a ten minute shit was better, easier, than them knowing that, I, just being me, was in there with them.
I worked this bathroom system for months, a huge slice of my time at work taken up by watching, waiting, listening, waiting, worrying about getting "caught," whatever "caught" mean. Then a friend let me know that due to where I was at in my transition and living in Ontario, I could go change my legal gender marker. It felt like the light at the end of the tunnel. I thought that it I presented a legal document to our human resources department, then things would have to change. So I let my employers and workmates know that I had applied for this document. I let them know that I would be using the woman's washroom and asked them to start using my preferred pronouns (she/her/hers). I asked human resources to help ease everyone into it; I wanted this to be as smooth for everyone as possible.
I asked human resources to tell my officemates I'm legally a woman.
I thought, "This will be easy."
Which brings us to now.
It's been over a month getting this legal document declaring my gender to be female, I still get misgendered 100 per cent of the time at work. Everyone -- literally everyone -- in office is aware that I identify as a woman. They just don't acknowledge it.
I've started using the women's washroom.
My ears still acutely listen to doors opening and closing, and I end up hiding in stalls until people are done what they're doing. I've noticed the two cis women in my office doing the same thing; they don't want to run into me either.
I mean, god forbid, I may be taking a minute to enjoy looking at myself in the mirror and being proud of what I've accomplished. I might be fixing my makeup.
And just to be clear: I am, and I do.
But the fact that others have changed their habits because they're scared to see me in the washroom hurts. It hurts to be treated if I'm not a woman, or not even human for that matter. But what strangely hurts the most is that I seriously, actually, believed that a different letter on my ID would change something.
So I'm worried about losing my job. They can't legally fire me for using the women's washroom, but there are other ways, you know? Totally legal ways to get rid of me and make it look like it wasn't discrimination. These thoughts colour my every action and interaction at work; I'm always on my guard.
That's what it's like to be the only trans person in the office, I guess.
I just want cis folk to know something. If you're cis, I want you to read the following, digest it, try to understand it:
If you ever run into someone who might not visually match the gender of the washroom you've found them in, just chill. They are probably way, way, way more scared of you, than you of them. Scared of losing their job, scared of not being able to find employment again, scared of losing housing, scared of having to even look someone in the eye/talk to them. Don't say anything; just leave us be. We'll be on our way in no time.
Chances are, especially if we're alone, we didn't even want you to find us there.
Xeph, while mainly being of this world, has spent a large amount of time occupying space in others and hopes she brought back the best aspects of those other places with her. She's now committed to somehow, possibly, making this world a better space. She has a background in Earthly psychology and tech and spent many years passing on communication skills to others. One of the main things she's learned is animals are better than people.
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