I never understand the reason why people find it necessary to do the exact opposite of what you want them, or kindly requested them, to do.
I came out on Facebook, and yes, I know it’s probably not the best choice since you would want to explain any confusions they might have face-to-face and you can’t do that over text, it’s the only way I can find that helps me.
I’m way more comfortable typing than speaking. I don’t want to talk, partly because I hate my voice, and partly because I lack any confidence.
I can’t speak to an entire class, I won’t be able to speak to one person about a problem that’s so personal to me.
But I thought I managed to weed out most of that problem by posting it on Facebook, despite it being the last stop for other transpeople or the last resort. I placed it as number one priority. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve.
In English class today, the teacher was mentioning about needing us to finish the past two months worth of ELC so once he has time to mark it, he doesn’t need to give zero marks again like he did last few times. Obviously, as a good child that I am, I’ve already did them, including this month’s. But this douchebag of a person decides to speak at this moment. He mentioned that another classmate and I had that most in our ELCs. This comment is innocent and I’d take pride to it, however, he spoke the deadname.
I hate the name. I joked about it like I always do, shouting “excuse me?” and asking him to correct himself. He did, sure, but it didn’t stop me from replaying the sentence over and over again. It was a reading lesson, so there was a lot of time for me to dwell on that fact without anything else to distract myself. I had my writing, but they didn’t work. It just kept repeating and I got more and more agitated. I told myself, no, I don’t identify with this name anymore. Even if the owner of deadname once existed, she’s long dead by now. Have been for quite a few years now.
But it didn’t stop my mind from wandering.
I remembered all the times every single teacher called me by the deadname, kept saying it over and over and over until I just.
I hate having dysphoric attacks in the middle of class.
I tried to calm down by ranting to my best friend via Skype messaging, since reading lessons don’t really permit students to talk to each other. But I just broke down a little.
The student who said the deadname. He’s known for being annoying and just speaking when he shouldn’t. He’s probably got a dozen screws loose in his head and if you tell me he’s mental, I would believe you.
After the lesson, he said, very loudly, that it’s hard for him to remember to call me by my preferred nickname “Tobi”. That seven out of ten times, he would make a mistake, despite the fact that the entire class calls me “Tobi”, for five years.
His “excuse” just broke something in me and I probably shouldn’t’ve, but I just got so frustrated that I might have started leaking tears.
Mitch helped me. At least, a video of him laughing for three minutes did.
I don’t just like Mitch because he’s just a pretty face, or just has a pretty voice. I like him also because he gives me strength. He inspires me. He’s openly gay and so comfortable with that, so comfortable with himself. He’s surrounded by people who knows he’s gay and doesn’t give two shits about it. I want to be like that. I want to be around people who will treat me as a boy and call me by [REDACTED] and refer me with male pronouns. I want to be comfortable in my own skin and love myself like how he loves himself.
But I guess we can’t all have what we want.
At least, not right now.
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