sandra-leigh
06-29-2007, 11:05 PM
About 3/4 of an hour ago, I was loafing around at a bus stop on a moderately busy road, waiting for the bus. This was just after sunset, still pretty light, and colour discrimination was just starting to be affected.
I had on girl jeans (but you have to look hard to tell), women's loafers (ditto), a black woman's top with dull gold leaf pattern (feminine but not radical), forms underneath (showing roughly equivilent of B-cup projection with that top -- there but not blatant especially against the black); and I was experimenting with the "layered look" by allowing a couple of inches of my lavendar slip to show at the bottom of the top. (Lavender wasn't the best colour against the black, but I had to start somewhere.) And that's it -- no makeup, no femme glasses, no jewelry, no wig, just my normal male face with its day-growth of moustache.
So I'm leaning against a post, just waiting, and cars are stopping by the stoplight close to me, and no-one gives a fart what I'm wearing,
But then, the light changed, and a car that had been waiting a little ahead of me moved further ahead and started to round the corner, and one of the young people in the car stuck his hand partly out the window and pointed vaguely back towards me, and said, clearly to the other people in the car (not to me), "That was a guy", and someone else in the car, speaking overlapping with the first said, "That was a man!", and they continued around the corner to some amusement.
And I just kept leaning back against my post, and the infamous Rocky Horror Audience Participation line popped into my head, "No Sh*t, Sherlock!!".
And I was rather amused. I wasn't upset one bit about having been "read", and I wasn't even upset that they'd seen fit to comment on me (they didn't put me down, at least in my hearing): no, I was amused because someone had seriously thought I might be a woman. When I go out partly dressed like that, my assumption is that a single glance at my face is enough to convince anyone that I'm male. I'm accustomed to getting read when I gender-bend; heck, I'm accustomed to getting read in seconds when I go out in full wig ("Where to, Sir?" ask the taxi-drivers); the notion that I might actually be passing to people, even when not dressed especially femininely, is going to take some getting used to. :D
I had on girl jeans (but you have to look hard to tell), women's loafers (ditto), a black woman's top with dull gold leaf pattern (feminine but not radical), forms underneath (showing roughly equivilent of B-cup projection with that top -- there but not blatant especially against the black); and I was experimenting with the "layered look" by allowing a couple of inches of my lavendar slip to show at the bottom of the top. (Lavender wasn't the best colour against the black, but I had to start somewhere.) And that's it -- no makeup, no femme glasses, no jewelry, no wig, just my normal male face with its day-growth of moustache.
So I'm leaning against a post, just waiting, and cars are stopping by the stoplight close to me, and no-one gives a fart what I'm wearing,
But then, the light changed, and a car that had been waiting a little ahead of me moved further ahead and started to round the corner, and one of the young people in the car stuck his hand partly out the window and pointed vaguely back towards me, and said, clearly to the other people in the car (not to me), "That was a guy", and someone else in the car, speaking overlapping with the first said, "That was a man!", and they continued around the corner to some amusement.
And I just kept leaning back against my post, and the infamous Rocky Horror Audience Participation line popped into my head, "No Sh*t, Sherlock!!".
And I was rather amused. I wasn't upset one bit about having been "read", and I wasn't even upset that they'd seen fit to comment on me (they didn't put me down, at least in my hearing): no, I was amused because someone had seriously thought I might be a woman. When I go out partly dressed like that, my assumption is that a single glance at my face is enough to convince anyone that I'm male. I'm accustomed to getting read when I gender-bend; heck, I'm accustomed to getting read in seconds when I go out in full wig ("Where to, Sir?" ask the taxi-drivers); the notion that I might actually be passing to people, even when not dressed especially femininely, is going to take some getting used to. :D