Is that a man or a woman?

“Is that a man or a woman?” some guy loudly asked the bus driver. I’d just boarded the bus, wearing an elegant outfit I’d put together for a lounge music performance some friends put on. He was so far away, in another car of the bus. I assumed he was harrassing another trans person.

He kept going on, the bus driver asked him to stop while everyone else ignored him. I was preparing to confront him, to come to the aid of the person he was harrassing. I wanted to show him that this is our city. He’s a guest here, and his bigotry is in the minority. I was waiting for one final outburst before I’d walk up, when he got off the bus. It was the eye contact he made with me as the bus continued that confirmed he was in fact harrassing me.

I’m not afraid of that weirdo. I was already planning to tell him off, but if anything I regret having the chance to put him in his place. I thought for the rest of the ride what I would say to him.

“It’s okay, little guy. I know that new things can be scary and confusing. I’m not a man or a woman. You can see as much on my driver’s license. There is more in this world than you will ever know. But you’re in the city. In the city we mind our manners and we don’t make a scene about people’s gender. It’s not polite, okay?

I am more than you can imagine. Your entire world is too small to contain me. My ambition to be myself is greater than whatever pithy goals you’ve set your life to. Respect? I respect myself. Love? I love myself. My body is my highest art. I exist despite everything I was told I should be.

What power do you think you have over me? Why should I fear you or your disdain? You’re just a man. My path was set before me by divine ordain and I still chose my own way. The gender binary will not contain me. You lack the standing to complain about my gender. There is no authority I acknowledge over my expression. I have wrestled God to win this freedom. Are you angry that I don’t fit into your boxes? Are you afraid? You should be.“

And so I raged silently until I made my way home. That man will never hear those words. No one would, unless I chose to write them down. He was just one fool in a world filled with bigots. But I do feel sad for him. He will never know the joys I have felt. He will never know himself the way I know myself, and his entire world is smaller for it.