Saturday, 21 March 2015


I like to keep my nails painted. It started out as just for fun but it's become an impotant part of my appearance. Sometimes my pretty nails are the only thing there to tell the world I'm something other than a gender-typical cis male. This is the usually case at work, where I wear grubby old clothes and forgo makeup.

I waited until the start of my second week at this job to wear nail polish. I went with pale blue. Of course people noticed and there were a couple of weird looks at first, but no one said anything unkind and we just got on with what needed to be done, which is basically what I expected to happen.

Now, recall from my previous post that I'm working at the same company as my mom. Last Sunday (so, the weekend after my second week of work) I got a phone call from her. After a rambling, apologetic preamble she asked me if I could stop wearing nail polish at the job, for her sake. She said that people were joking about it and that it hurt her heart to hear their comments.

I told simply her that, no, I would not stop painting my nails, that people making comments had nothing to do with me and that I wasn't the problem there. I also pointed out that just because people make jokes doesn't mean those jokes are mean-spirited.

It slipped my mind at the time, but I also should have told her that referring to me as a "lady" (which apparently is what some of them were doing) isn't even remotely an insult— that's just a somewhat accurate description of my gender identity. That's fine by me.

Anyways, she told me that obviously it was my descision but she just thought she'd ask. We said "good-bye" and "love you" and ended the call.

Then about half an hour later I got a text from her. It read:
Hi i need to apologize. Dad just explained why it was soo inapropriate for me to ask u not to be yourself. I truly am sorry. Dad was really upset with me but he was right. I should have thought first before i called u.
I texted her back saying I accepted the apology and telling her not to worry about it.

It means so much to me to know that my dad gets this stuff, and that he's willing to defend me. You see, he used to say a lot of weird homophobic stuff when I was growing up, but he's changed a lot between then and now. It's a change that's been especially apparent since I came out. And clearly my mom learned something important that day, too.

People grow and people change, and thank goodness for that. :)

Sunday, 8 March 2015

I got a job!

After four months of unemployment, I finally found a job! Er, well, to be honest, I didn't really find it, it sort of fell into my lap. The company that my mother works for had an opening I was qualified for, and she just so happens to be the HR manager, so I got it that way. I'm a little uncomfortable with how nepotistic that seems, but a job's a job, right?

I've been there a week now. On the one hand, I'm stoked that with money coming in I can now start electrolysis without having to worry about my finances. Yay yay yay!! On the other hand, it turns out that I already slightly hate the job, so that's not as cool. It's powder coating metal products, which is okay, it's just that it's yet another industrial labour job and I was really hoping my next one would be something different. That and the hours are longer than what I want to be working.

The other thing that's weird about it is that every single woman who works for that company works in an office. All of the actual labourers are men— (well, except me of course, but I'm kind of in disguise). And like, I get that there's some heavy lifting and the whole testosterone and upper body strength thing, but I've worked alongside women at jobs that were a lot more physically demanding than this one. And it's a big company too, so it's not just the effect of a small sample size. All that makes me pretty sure that male privilege was a factor in me getting the job, which would be uncomfortable enough if I were actually male, but it feels even weirder as a trans woman. Not to mention that it sucks being the only girl, since I generally relate more easily with women than men.

Rosie the Riveter could do my job no problem.
Part of me wants to keep handing out resumés in the hopes of finding something that suits me better. But I'd feel bad quitting right away when it was my mom who hired me, especially since the company's already spent money getting me certified for various safety things. Another part of me, (the defiant part), wants to stick it out through the course of my transition, just to prove that yes, a girl can do this job. And another part of me, (my guilt complex), feels like I ought to be more grateful for the work when so many people in this world have a hard time finding employment.

So yeah, I guess my feelings on it are somewhat complicated, but for the time being I will probably be powder coating metal.