for the joint 19th century transatlantic/world lit class we had a student conference to end the semester this saturday, where we all cobbled together pieces of our drafts of our final seminar paper (or in my case, started the seminar paper and awkwardly read the first seven pages) and dressed up (except i didn’t get the memo and wore jeans and a sweatshirt) and sleepily encouraged one another with questions and comments during panels after each round of papers. like most conferences there was no coffee despite the ridiculously early start time and the sheer length of the day-long conference session, where minutes stretch to hours.
i hadn’t met about half the students in the other class, so it was good to get an introduction to them. during one of the question and answer sessions, one woman was asking really spicy questions, and i woke up and listened to her. her vowels had that tell-tale lilt that always makes me cock my ear up here; it was just barely there, but i could tell.
at the break i asked her if she was from the south and she admitted, embarrassed, that she was from alabama; i told her i was from rural tennessee and both of us shifted into our lilts perhaps consciously. we were talking about being from the south and from rural families when another woman from kentucky came up to us. then my new fellow southerner she-pronouned me, and my heart broke in a thousand pieces but then came back together again instantly and i didn’t know what to do.
it happened again later that night at a party—at the moment where the perpetual 2:30 am my mind is at these days met with the real 2:30 am plus a few drinks—someone who i was talking to about where they grew up (california) she-d me. i called them out on it and she got really awkward and not apologetic but sort of like, “i know i know i’m sorry i didn’t mean to i feel really bad” but i just didn’t care and neither did she. we both just felt bad and then we talked about something else.
i started grad school wanting no one to know i was trans even though i knew that was probably not going to happen, or at least to be able to tell people on my terms. but i feel like that is what these little pronoun slipups mean; that people think of me as trans and then it comes out when they misgender me, despite the fact that i’ve never looked less like a woman in my life. somehow everyone has come to know about it through other people, even though both of these people don’t really know me or talk to me frequently. it is so alienating and disheartening, especially coming from folks who are transplants themselves to this wisconsin cold, to this winter with no end.