I see pictures of a protest. It can be about just about anyone’s rights, maybe nothing that directly addresses trans rights, and in the street and there are dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of people. But what draws my attention isn’t the crowd size. It is who is at the front: more often than not, trans folk will be among the vanguard of the protest. These trans folk know how trans folks are treated by police and the criminal justice system. Yet they are the ones in front. It is time for others to step up for us.
Me: “We need to leave. Now.” Him: “Huh?” Me: “Just…let’s go. Really.” Him: “What?” Me: <exasperated whisper> “Don’t you see the way I’m being looked at? We need to leave.” Him: “Nobody is looking at you!” Me: <annoyed whisper> “Yes they are, and I’m going to leave without you if you don’t come with me.”
I’m a trans woman. He’s a cis man. But I bet many of my readers have been on one side of this conversation–and likely both sides–at some point in their lives, regardless of their gender history. Maybe it wasn’t about gender, but about skin color, the language being spoken, religious dress, disability, class, or else entirely. One person knows something is wrong, the other can’t see it.
It’s related to a film trope–there’s a bar, there’s some music playing, but when the protagonist walks in, the needle scratches and the record stops. You know something bad is about to happen. It is usually a lot more obvious that someone is out of place. It is them versus the bar.
Here’s one of my favorites:
Let’s think about this scene a bit though, at least the opening, as it doesn’t end like it might in real life.