He/She/They/Me
“The reward for conformity is that everyone likes you but yourself.”
~Rita Mae Brown~
You and I are standing in line at a yard-sale chic coffee shop, credit cards in hand, craving the first (or second) cup of caffeine. You are at least six feet tall. Square jawed. Large hands. Other than the feminine touches — a blonde bob, jewelry, and lipstick — I would describe your clothing as “unisex,” a style we wore in the 1970s, boy clothing we wore for comfort and to avoid the leers of pubescent guys.
“Hey!” I say while we stand together. “These pastries look good. Have you tried any of them?” You look down at me kindly and recommend the pastry with apricot filling. “That’s a good one,” you say, then turn toward the barista. You probably notice my awkward fascination (someday, I will understand you are less interested in being fascinating than just being you).
Curiosity is my superpower and a character flaw. Since I was a girl, I have been fascinated by the unfamiliar. It’s why I became a social worker, and then a writer. I want to understand differences. I yearn to hear (or imagine) strangers’ stories. My teenage daughter once chastised me for staring at a woman with a purple mohawk. “But she wants to be noticed!” I explained.
I am a 69-year-old cis-gender woman and a liberal love-your-neighbor church-going Christian, a…
