(My friend and I are at a popular pet store chain picking up food for my snake. While waiting in line, he is trying to teach me a few words in his tribe’s language (Native Creek). He is very clearly not white, dark eyes, long, straight dark hair, copper skin tone, etc. Another customer behind us scoffs and we both look at him but my friend keeps speaking Creek.)

Customer: “You know, he should really learn to speak American if he’s going to be here.”

Friend: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “So you do speak English! Why are you speaking that gibberish, then?”

Me: “He is teaching me some words; he can speak whatever he wants. This is America, right?”

Customer: “Yes, it is! And as an American, he should just speak English!”

(My friend is looking very uncomfortable, as he is pretty shy and sensitive about racism.)

Me: “Sir, he is more American than you could ever wish to be.”

Customer: “How dare you! Look at him! I am the most blue-blooded American you can find! Born and bred!”

Me: *laughs* “His ancestors were here thousands of years before yours or mine even knew America existed.”

(He sputtered and huffed but shut up until we checked out.)

Me: “Can I get you anything?”

Customer: “No, thank you. I was wondering, though, why are there so many alternative couples in here?”

Me: “Alternative?”

Customer: “Well, gay. I don’t like using that word though because it normalises the perverse.”

Me: “I see… Well, this is a gay bar, so that’s why there are so many gay couples.”

Customer: “Oh, an alternative bar! How interesting. Are you alternative?”

Me: “Yes, I’m gay.”

Customer: “How interesting!”

(Other than referring to anything gay as “alternative” she seemed quite pleased with everything and spent most of the evening with us.)

(My family has an unwritten rule to never talk about my trans identity. They aren’t transphobic or anything; it’s just they don’t see it as a problem and support my transition fully. One member of the family, though, never seems to get the memo: my aunt from Ireland. She is transphobic, homophobic, and basically sees LGBT as a sign of a crumbling society that worships the devil, etc. She and my uncle are visiting, and sadly the topic shifts to my being trans.)

Aunt: “Have you found yourself a man yet to straighten you out?”

Me: “Well, since I’m a gay trans man, I don’t think finding a man will help much.”

(She pretended not to hear and lambasted my entire existence for the rest of the evening. When my dad asked her to leave, she guilt tripped him by asking what would their mother think of him throwing out his poor younger sister. For the rest of the week, she called me by my old female name, and bought me a present before leaving: a large collection of makeup and vouchers for lip injections. I told her she probably needed them more than I do, and she swore she would never visit again. Fingers crossed.)

(A mutual friend has had a daughter and is going to have her christened. I hear another friend is going and decide to ask if he might be willing to car share, as my car is currently having work done. I haven’t really spoken to this friend in nearly eight years, but we have always been civil with each other. I go around to his house and knock.)

Friend: “Oh, hello.”

Me: “Hi, I hear you might be going to [Mutual Friend]’s daughter’s christening?”

Friend: *taking phone out* “Ugh, I might be.”

Me: “Cool, I was wondering if you would be all right giving me a lift? My car is having work done so I can’t use it. I’ll pay for fuel and everything.”

Friend: *sighs*

Me: *after a few seconds* “Hello?”

Friend: “Hi, yeah. Look, I’m not interested in going to your gay wedding.”

Me: “What? I’m asking if you could give me a lift to the christening.”

Friend: “Christening? OH, the christening!” *a couple of seconds* “Will gay people be there?”

(I didn’t say anything and left. I eventually found a lift and when I got to the christening, I noticed Friend was avoiding me. I later found out from our mutual friend that he always thought I was gay because of the “strange guy I always hung around with” (my brother), and he’s developed a disliking of gay people in the time that we have spoken. I also learned that pretty much all of his friends think he’s in the closet, and that is why he acts the way he does.)

(I am around eight or nine, at Sunday school. I have only read a few random chapters of the Bible. The pastor’s son had read it cover to cover several times. Everyone starts discussing what Jesus looked like, and I just listen at first. Everyone else is going mostly with the typical depiction: long, light brown hair, beard, wearing a “tunic or whatever it’s called,” being white, and having blue or brown eyes (this varied for people’s opinions). The pastor’s son tries to include me in the conversation because I haven’t said anything.)

Pastor’s Son: “What do you think he looks like, [My Name]?”

Me: *being the little know-it-all I was and still am* “Actually, based on the time period and geological location, he most likely had medium to dark brown skin, short dark brown or black hair, had brown eyes, no beard or a small one, and wore more of tribal-ish attire.”

Everyone Else: *awkwardly staring at me, some with mouths agape*

Pastor’s Son: *rolls eyes* “Next you’re going to tell us he wasn’t a Catholic.”

Me: “He wasn’t. He was Jewish and the first Christian ever.”

Pastor’s Son: *very, very rudely* “Well, you can go worship your black Jesus, and I’ll just stick with the real one.”

(Granted, not that much is officially known about his appearance, but shaming an 8- or 9-year-old for believing he looks different and race-shaming Jesus while in church? Come on!)