First, I don't like the whole preoccupation with the goal of passing. When I began going out in public, passing was the only thing I thought about, which attracted scrutiny and getting read, of course. I've changed, for the better.
I live in a mid-sized town in southeast Tennessee (Chattanooga) USA and it is in the middle of the Bible Belt. Tennessee is the second most violent state in the US according to a study that came out yesterday. Racism is very openly displayed here. The state representative who serves my district recently said he'd "stomp a mud hole in a cross dresser if he saw one using a women's dressing room." He got tons of support for that statement. Around here, it's common knowledge that being gay means you're evil and going to hell.
All of that is to say that I have reason to fear for the consequence of not passing. A couple of months ago, something just flipped inside of me and I gained a ton of confidence and peace. It wasn't a conscious decision but more of a breakthrough resulting in going out a lot and having nothing but quite positive experiences. The peace I felt surprised me and I knew it'd never leave (it hasn't). Because I don't have fear, apparently I act like I belong and that what I'm doing is completely normal.
80% of the time, I'm either not read or people don't care. Note: I consider not being noticed as not being read. 10% of the time, people do a double-take and don't hesitate going about their business. The other 10% of the time when I know I'm read, I get really positive feedback, ranging from women telling me how they like what I'm doing, complimenting my appearance somehow, or even being checked out by guys.
Here's a list of upsetting experiences I've had in my "dangerous" area of the world, compiled over a 2-year span of going out in public and well-populated places at least once per week:
- A teenage girl in line behind me at the grocery store pointed me out to her mother and giggled to herself. (BTW, her mother acted like, "so what?")
If I only went out weekly, that's less than 1% of the time having a negative experience!
OK, I do not look like a woman. Let's agree on that. I'm 6'3", 235 pounds, and I love my heels. But I "own it." I don't strut around like I'm a beauty queen (!) but I have a solid, quiet confidence.
Am I living in some weird vortex of tolerance in backwoods Tennessee? If so, then many of you need to consider moving here. Or do people treat me the way I present myself because I'm comfortable with it?