Safe Space

Today was a trying day. As I was walking home up the Eastside hill I reflected on how many times my identity was invalidated today by people mis-pronouning me or not using my preferred name.  It's really amazing I'm still corporeal at this moment, because by rights, I should have de-materialised by now.

I've reached the conclusion that there are very few safe spaces for me anymore.  I'm getting really tired of the cissexism, to the point where I want to punch people in the nose when they forget to use my preferred name and/or pronoun.

One of my friends flubbed up today, again, and their defence was "Sorry, I'm still getting used to your new name."  Ok?  So am I.  Don't you think it was and is difficult for me? I've only had it for some 25 years, no big deal.  All I could do was glare at them.  They got the hint.  I feel like my day's frustrations came pouring out on that individual.  I've reached my quota for today; I can't care about their feelings anymore. I'll try again tomorrow.

I also had a discussion with another friend about being an ally, even when I'm not around. It's amazing how people can be great about race and sexism, but when it comes to cissexism, they need a tutorial.  Why is the game so different? Oppression is oppression.  Or at least, it is in my book.....

I'm so tired... but tomorrow is another day and I've got to put on my boots and walk through the ish all day.