Things that make my heart sing! 

Passing. In the transgender world we tend to worry about whether or not we “pass” as the gender we are trying to be. For a lot of us this is very difficult to achieve, because our bodies instantly give us away. 
I’m one of the the luckier ones. I’m not much taller than the average girl and a little bit lighter than the average girl. And I have lucky genes. With a little bit of work I know I can “pass” in a crowd. 

However “passing” in a crowd and “passing” when you need to interact with people are worlds apart. I don’t have to “pass” to be the girl I am, but oh my goodness, it gives me such a sense of validation. That I am who I am. 

I think I mentioned in one of my earlier posts that in my professional life I’m a girl. I faltered a couple of times last year for what I thought were good reasons. But this year there is no going back. And I no longer consider last year’s reasons as being valid. I took the easy way out. I…Am…A…Girl…fullstop.

Anyway in my professional life, I get to do all kinds of admin type things. This time I had to sort out a bequest! Someone had left a portion of their estate to us, and I had to get the paperwork completed. Now one of the forms to be completed was to confirm that we were the organisation named in the will. And this form was a statutory declaration. 

Guess what the easy thing to do was? Ut-uh! Not this time. I…Am…A…Girl…Fullstop. So off I went to the JP with my completed form, my ID, my handbag, my favourite white riding skirt with peach and blue-grey print and lace edges. A fitted peach ribbed crop top and my tan pointy flats. 

Riding skirt? I don’t think I mentioned this in great detail before, but I love to ride my bicycle everywhere. Wearing a skirt and riding a bicycle is actually not a problem, with the right skirt. Minis and pencils are out. However my favourite skirts are absolutely perfect. Box pleat midis allow your legs enough room to get on a bicycle. And then enough coverage so that you don’t expose yourself, even when riding in the wind. Full circle skirts are also good unless it’s really really windy when exposure is possible. If it’s that windy, you probably wouldn’t want to go out anyway. Anyway back to the JP. 

I needed to explain the form to the JP in detail, because it wasn’t a standard stat dec. Once he understood he asked for my ID, so I gave him my license. Then he said “We’ve got a problem, because you’re not this person, are you?” I slowly nodded my head, not agreeing with him but to say… um yes I am. “I’m transgender” I tell him. 

He squints at me to see if he can see any resemblance between me and my photo. “This person doesn’t have glasses.” I take my glasses off, and pull back my hair on the left side and tell him quietly “You can see my sideburns under my wig here. And if you look closely at my neck you can see my Adam’s apple.” “That’s ok, I can see that your eyes are a match” he says. Phew! 

He apologises for having to be so thorough. And I tell him that it’s fine, and that I know that it’s very important that he’s convinced that I am who I say I am. We both sign the stat Dec and we’re done. I am elated. One, because I didn’t take the easy way out. Two, because we had a fair amount of interaction before he noticed the ‘license problem’ and until then he thought I was a girl. #thingsthaymakemyheartsing 

Work is never boring. We’re a small organisation so I get to cover a lot of bases. Accounts chick, Mail-girl, It-girl or geek girl. This time it’s geek girl stuff. Our internet really sucks. And when you get 10 people trying to connect to sucky internet the results are really crappy. So I’m out to find a solution to our useless adsl. 

The solution turns up with optus. A mobile broadband with the same cost as our adsl but with 8x speed. I’m sold, but it’s really only for home use or tiny tiny businesses. This means that I’ll have to register it in my name…..#nottakingtheeasywayout

So, it’s off to optus I go with my trusty handbag, my white, floral full-circle skirt, with yellow, blue and pink highlights and a yellow crop, with some nude mid heel court shoes. Its early so it’s just me and the consultant. She understands exactly what I want so we sit down at her pc so we can do the “paperwork”.

Read this, agree to that, acknowledge the limitations, fair play blah De blah De blah.”Can I get a copy of your license?” 

“Yes of course, but I don’t look anything like my photo… “. 

“That’s ok, nobody ever does. And I just need it for our records….Oh!” looks at license, looks at me, looks at license, looks at me. “Have you ever thought about changing your name officially?” 

I might be wrong, but in my mind it’s easier to get a boy to think you’re a girl. For most boys I think they see my hair, skirt and heels and that’s enough for me to pass as a girl provided there’s no interaction. 

However with girls, I think they’re a bit more cluey about “reading” me. Makeup not right. Accessories off, walks funny, mannerisms wrong. Any one of these could give me away. But the biggest give-away if I get it wrong is my voice. 

We spoke for quite a while to set up my new account and she didn’t realise at all until I gave her my license. And she was just as wonderful after she found out as she was before she found out. #thingsthatmakemyheartsing

I am who I am. 

Photo by Sylvain Reygaerts


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