Sunday, May 24, 2009

Call me Ishmael. Or Ethan, if you like. Just not....

At work, we have to pick our kids up from their buses outside and escort them to their classrooms everyday.  So on Friday afterschool, I went to pick up one of the kids for the afterschool program.  His aid was yelling something I couldn't hear over the bus engine, but I assumed she was saying 'bye' to the student so I told the student to say 'bye' to her on the bus.  That's when the bus driver said that the aid was actually talking to me.  

Me?  What did she want with me?  So I walk a little closer to the bus, still keeping an eye on my student so he didn't run away and looked at the aid.  Her voice was shrilly and old (she reminded me of someone's 80 year old southern granny.  I felt the urge to respond with a "yes ma'am," when she poke.)  "What's your name?" she shouted.  She sounded a bit like a witch, like she could do something to me by merely knowing my name.  Or maybe I read too many wizard books... 

Anyway, a range of responses went through my head.  I had no idea how she was perceiving me, so I didn't know how to answer.  Should I give her my legal (female) name? My soon-to-be-legal male name? My androgynous I-couldn't-decide-for-a-long-time name?  I went with the first option since that's how I'm known at work.  (I could just see telling her 'Ethan' and having that come back to haunt me shortly thereafter.)  So, I told her, "Theresa,"  which was actually NOT the better decision.

"Theresa?" she shouts.  It wasn't the sun making my cheeks burn.  "Theresa?!?" she shouts again a bit louder and with a hint more incredulity.  "That's a girl's name.  What, they got BOYS named Theresa now?!?" The aid was confused, but I couldn't see much more emotion beyond that... mostly because I was trying to think my way out of the situation.  The bus driver looked at me sympathetically and smiled.

"Oh... uh..." I pretended not to have heard what she said.  "Yeah!  So I hope you both have a GREAT long weekend.  Enjoy the weather!"  I smiled and took the kid inside as fast as I could.  One of the best things about working with the kids is that only a few of them talk, most of them have no idea about social gender roles/expectations, and NONE of them care what I look like or who I call myself... so long as I treat them respectfully, make them laugh, and give them candy when they ask for it.  

I'm trying to figure out, which comes first: legal name change, or unintentionally being outed at work?  LOL.

1 comment:

  1. Vaguely related story ... at my college, they had a Christmas program where kids would come, and the students would pal around with them for an afternoon on-campus then give "Santa" a present to give to them. Each student was paired with an individual kid, and I had a ten-year-old boy.

    "Are you a boy or a girl?" was one of the first things he said to me. After a moment's hesitation, I told him I was a boy. Periodically after that, he'd squint at me and say, "Are you SURE you're a boy? You don't SOUND like a boy ... "

    It was a very long afternoon.

    His friend, an 11-year-old, declared me "definitely a boy," though. Ha.

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