Beware, White Girls, Beware

So, I did make it out of bed today. A few more times than yestereday--a good sign. I went to the store since there was no food in the house (canned tomato sauce, week old chicken, and various cheeses, not withstanding...) I pulled into the space and hopped out the car in one swift movement. I try not to stay still for too long (or make any sudden movements) because I am incredibly self-conscious about how I am perceived by those around me. And having practiced 'invisibility' for years now, I'm pretty good at maneuvering in public, arousing little attention.

I had locked the doors remotely... maybe I was walking fast, but I was in my own world, not really paying attention to anything around me until I was acutely aware of eyes on me. They were cautious, curious eyes. Funny how you can feel people's emotions without even seeing their expressions. I turned around briefly to catch a glimpse of the girl. Emily. I knew this girl's name because, unlike many, I have an unfortunate tendency to remember people's first and last names and some little trivial fact about them. Like the fact that I knew it was her SUV parked next to my car because of the breast cancer awareness stickers on the back. Her mom had breast cancer when we were younger--I'm not sure if she passed away, but I think she did. Anyway, so yes. I knew this girl from elementary school. And if someone told her my full birth name, she'd probably search ever brain cell wondering why it sounded familiar to her. She, of course, would forget that over the years we were in several of the same classes.

Well, cautious, curious, Emily was now walking slowly to open up the space between me and her, and without turning around, I knew that she wasn't taking her eyes off of me. I knew the look. The expression. I've experienced the look increasingly over the past few months. It was the exact look that sheltered, suburban white girls give 'mysterious' men of color who drive sports cars. We are all, of course, sexual predators; and white girls learned to lock the doors immediately when they got to their cars, or to begin mercilessly flirting with the hopes that this one might be the boy to piss off Daddy. Emily was of the former group.

The first time this happened to me, I felt indignant, sad, hurt, slightly embarassed, then finally a glimmer of hope. As least I was being perceived as a black male (NOT female). That means I'd get all that came with such recognition. Unfortunately, what these white girls (and no, I'm OBVIOUSLY not speaking for every white girl in the world, just the ones I grew up with...) fail to realize is that they are a much greater threat to us that we are to them. If their male significant others weren't out to lynch us for being black, we were definitely going to be targeted for being trans. Oh yes. Let us never forget that, as a transman, we can still be raped and tortured and humiliated like any other female-bodied person.

Maybe I should have titled this post, "Beware, Black Transmen, Beware."