A few weeks ago, I was on my way to York waiting for the Keele bus. A man approached me, and I could see him looking at my clothes, my hair, my face, and finally my chest. He was trying to “figure me out.”
Was I a 13-year-old boy, or was I a lesbian? He probably saw me as a queer woman, but really I’m a trans guy.
From my appearance, he made a whole lot of assumptions about my sexual orientation. For a brief moment, he just kept walking and looked away, but then he glanced back and started staring at me with disgust. He started back towards me, every step was just as purposeful and angry as his clenched fists, as though my mere presence here at this bus stop was an offense to everything he stood for, as though the way I looked was just asking for harassment.
He told me he would never let me near his kids; I told him I didn’t care. I stared off into the distance, listening to my music, pretending like every muscle in my body wasn’t confused about whether I should run or fight.He told me that two women having sex was just as bad as two men having sex, because apparently my choice of clothing that morning told him all he needed to know about my sexual practices. He called me a faggot at least 10 times.
And then he told me he would beat me up. That’s when I stopped being angry and started being afraid. Sure, there was steady traffic and a few people standing nearby, but no one seemed to care. I was invisible to everyone except for this guy who kept shouting slurs at me.
It all ended uneventfully for me that day, with him boarding a different bus than mine, but I’m sure I’m not the first person he’s threatened, nor the last. Harassment, violence, and crimes of hate against queer, trans, and gender variant people won’t stop until schools start teaching that we’re not really variant. We’re normal. I’m a human, not an “it.”
The permeability of gender boundaries might have instilled fear in that man. In this patriarchal system, women are harassed if they exhibit too many signs of stereo- typical masculinity and men are harassed if they exhibit too many signs of stereotypical femininity. It’s not really our identities that people care about. My gender expression was what flagged him.
Our bodies are being policed; we become a sum of physical traits that people rely on to make assumptions about our gender: chest, facial hair, voice, clothing, etc.
The truth is, compared to others,I’ve had it pretty easy. At this point, I can move with ease between two worlds. Sometimes circumstances force me to use the women’s washroom; I’m able to act more feminine so that the world perceives me as a queer woman and not really as the guy that I’m trying to be read as 99 per cent of the time.
I have the privilege of not getting kicked out or getting asked if I’m in the right place. Statistically, the risk of me getting harassed or being a victim of a hate crime is lower than a trans woman, especially a trans woman of colour. The morning when I was walking to the bus stop, I never considered that I might be harassed and be threatened with violence.
I was never afraid because in my mind, Toronto was fairly accepting of most people.
After all, my criminology classes told me not to be afraid of strangers. I may not have been afraid that day, but today as I walked to that bus stop, and every day since the incident, I always look for that same accusatory face.
Zacharie Collins
Contributor
