aidenonymous: (gender)
I've had a roller coaster of a week and really didn't want to write this, but I'm hoping I'll feel better getting it out.  tl;dr I've once again blown an opportunity to have gender not be a big deal in every aspect of my life and am not happy about it.

cut for abusively negative self-talk )

I did a lot more self-care today though.  I cooked two (vegan) meals for myself with enough leftovers to get halfway through next week without spending too much money and eating things I said I wouldn't.  And I got a new binder that's a lot more comfortable for long days and looks like an undershirt so I don't need an extra layer under my grown-up clothes in the heat.  I'm going to go to work tomorrow because I know being a badass at science will make me feel better about myself.

EDIT: update )
aidenonymous: (chekhov)

Who's spending eir evening drinking and grading?  This guy, that's who.
why )

Violence

Oct. 12th, 2013 11:20 pm
aidenonymous: (gender)
Today I committed an act of violence.  I went to work today and didn't realize I'd left my bike lights at home until the sun started to set.  I threw on my helmet and completely forgot that there had been a football game today and that I might have trouble getting back.  I was approaching the steepest incline of my commute when three bros on the sidewalk attempted to get in front of me to block my way.  One of them shouted something about getting my ass.  The smaller one who'd threatened me attempted to use his body to keep me from moving forward, so I plowed right into him, getting him right in the 'nads because he was positioned to straddle my front wheel.  I was destabilized from the impact and did have to get my feet on the ground for a moment, but I just got back on my bike and sprinted the rest of the way home.  I heard him yell in pain as I made it up the hill and thanked the ether that his two larger friends were too stunned to run after me.  I did not report the incident to the campus police; arguably, I was in the wrong for inflicting bodily harm on others for simply being verbally threatened.  In retrospect, I believe they weren't trying to threaten me with violence.  I think it's more likely that they thought I was a woman and were attempting to sexually harass me.  They probably got the idea from my helmet, which hides my hair and is also pink.*  That the provocation was based in misogyny makes me even more proud of having hurt someone, however, I'm also left scared that I'm going to need to work harder to assimilate as binary if I don't want to become a victim of something beyond a verbal threat.  Perhaps it's time to get a new helmet.

*Why a pink helmet? )
aidenonymous: (gender)
Well that was easily the most thorough groping I've ever gotten before.  I dealt with it, but there's no way they didn't know what was under my clothes.  My hopes of avoiding the scanners so that at least the results of the pat-down would be unshareable between unprofessionals were also dashed.

When I asked to opt out of the scanners (everyone at that check point had to go through them), Agent 1 asked for a male assist on his walkie talkie.  Agent 2 waited a bit and then said something inaudible to Agent 1.  Agent 1 had a brief, inaudible exchange with Agent 3 behind him and repeated his request into the walkie talkie.  After some waiting, Agent 1 waved me through the scanner and met me on the other side.  He introduced me to Agent 4, who was responsible for the actual groping.  The groping was everything I feared, lots of attention on the chest and crotch (in spite of my request that they be sensitive there), almost entirely using the front of his hands, and running his hands under the collar of my T-shirt as well as the waistband of my pants -- he could see my binder, feel that I lack male external genitalia from both the front and back, and could feel that my chest was lumpier than could be excused.  This was the first time in years that I wished I'd been packing; I don't even own a soft packer, so it's pretty significant if I feel like I need something in my pants to be male enough.  Anyway, I'm glad I asked for it to be done in the open, because the only thing that could have made it more uncomfortable would have been to be alone with Agent 4.

When we were just about finished, Agent 5, the manager, walked over and shook his head and hands and stopped Agent 4.  He asked to see my passport and asked me to pronounce my name and then started chastizing Agent 4 for giving me a pat-down, asking who authorized it.  Agent 3 was implicated -- she was the one on the other end of the walkie talkie telling Agent 1 that I should get a male assist when he was unsure.  Agents 3 and 5 argued and several times checked against my passport, Agent 5 insisting that my name was clearly female and Agent 3 countering that "she presents herself as male so she is male."  (This is actually TSA policy, despite what the manager seemed to believe, although I suspect I could have gotten out of it by pretending to be a butch woman.)  He repeatedly asked me if I was male or female, and each time I pointed to the sex marker on my passport and said male.  I offered to give them my therapist's letter but they didn't seem interested.  When they finally stopped arguing, I had to endure a bit more groping and then could leave.

That was actually not the first gender-related incident of the morning.  When I checked in, my passport wouldn't scan, so a ticket representative had to verify that the information I entered matched my passport.  She didn't notice the sex marker, although I believe it would have been flagged if my passport did not match the information associated with my ticket.  She asked me to pronounce my name, I believed because it was difficult to accept that my appearance could be associated with it.  I asked if it was necessary, and her tone changed to be more interrogative, and I grew frightened, so I just said it.  She said it was very pretty and let me go.

After that first incident, I wasn't feeling too confident gender-wise and really had to pee, so I just went to the women's, although I did hesitate in deciding which door to go into.  Luckily the restroom was totally deserted, and I didn't run into anyone.  I did use a men's room later on before my flight (stupid coffee!) and didn't interact with anyone there either.

Ugh, so that pat-down, still preferable to the scanners?  Perhaps not.  I will request a female agent from now on and ask for it to be done in private if I am originally assigned a male agent.  It wasn't so much more traumatizing because the agent was male rather than female, but the nature of the pat-down was what I had feared.  I'm grateful Agent 4 was professional about it, since he must have known almost immediately that something was up, and he didn't say anything about it to me.  At the same time, I don't know if my more thorough pat-down was an expression of the agent's curiosity about my unusual anatomy, or something sexual directed at a female, or if it was just standard procedure for those perceived to be male.  I'm inclined to complain to the TSA about it, but there's nowhere quiet in the airport and my phone won't work in Canada, so it will have to wait until I return.

Ranty rant

May. 1st, 2012 05:36 pm
aidenonymous: (Default)
Blah, my knee is fucked, and I'm not handling it well because I haven't been working out, which is generally how I keep my head level.  Plus there was a lot of irritating misgendering at the doctor's office, and I felt really powerless to stop it.  I have Kaiser, which means every part of the system knows everything every other part does.  Every time I went to a different office (primary care physician, minor injury clinic, radiology, etc.), they'd print out a sheet saying whether I was up-to-date on various tests/immunizations and who my doctors are.  First, it reminds me how fucking pissed I am that they wouldn't let me opt out of being assigned a gyno., as it lists one so I can't forget that my insurance wants to be all up in some dumb organs I don't want in the first place no matter what I say.  Second, it says that I've refused to get a Pap, so every single doctor, when looking at my chart, asked me about it before even inquiring as to why I was there.  I sought medical attention for a knee injury, not because I was suddenly interested in having someone inspect my goddamn crotch; if I'd wanted that, I would have made an appointment with the gyno. they fucking randomly assigned me against my will, not with the minor injury clinic with a note explicitly stating I had a knee injury for fuck's sake.  I hate that they reduced me down to a jar containing some precious reproductive organs and didn't care that one of the jar's essential joints wasn't working right.  Oh, and after all that, there's nothing they can do, because the next available appointment for an MRI, the test that will actually determine the degree to which I tore the damn ligament they aren't even fucking sure I tore, is after I move across the country.  So I'm going to have to move with a worthless knee and then immediately start this whole process from scratch again, but in an even less faimilar place.

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