(I’m doing door-to-door opinion polls, part of which involves collecting various kinds of demographic data.)
Me: “So, would you describe yourself in any of these ways?” *points at a showcard with sexual orientations*
Respondent: *giggling* “Heterosexual.”
Me: *recording the answer* “Okay.”
Respondent: “Nooo, I’m kidding! I’m straight! Wait… ‘Straight’ isn’t on the showcard.”
Me: *deep breath* “Miss, ‘heterosexual’ means ‘straight.’”
(I am AFAB — assigned female at birth — and go by she/they pronouns. I am spending the day with a genderfluid AFAB friend. We’re on a popular shopping street in Brisbane and are waiting for the lights to change before crossing to the bus station. On the other side of the street, a man is standing on a literal soapbox, quoting Bible verses about sin and how everyone around him will be condemned to Hell.)
Friend: “Gimme your hand.”
(We cross the street hand in hand, and the man grows louder as he sees us pass by.)
Friend: “Hang on.”
(They stopped on the sidewalk and kissed me on the cheek, right in front of the man. Someone actually audibly gasped, and another person tried to hand them a Jesus pamphlet. We walked the rest of the way to the bus hand in hand.)
(I’m talking with friends, one of whom is new to our group. I’m asexual and end up mentioning it.)
New Friend: “Wait, you’re ace?!”
Me: *thinking that he knew this already* “Yes?”
New Friend: “How did I not know this?!”
Me: “Where did you think my talking about wanting to go to prom with a stuffed animal in a bow tie came from?”
(He was supportive once he got over his initial surprise.)
(I was assigned female at birth but am experimenting with gender presentation. I am currently trying to tie a tie as part of a formal business outfit. This is taking a while, as I keep messing it up. My mother sees me.)
Mum: “Don’t wear a tie. The older ladies will think you’re wearing a costume.”
Me: “I never thought of it that way. Should I wear a necklace, instead?”
Mum: “That would be perfect.”
(I ended up going to the meeting wearing a very pretty necklace, a chest binder, and a sock packer.)
(I am an American working as an English teacher in China. I am working with a class of five five-year-olds through the unit on describing the rooms of a house. With us is a local young woman who translates and assists me as needed. At the beginning of today’s lesson, I review the names of the rooms with the basic sentence structure using our large flash cards. Towards the end of the review, the class clown starts messing around.)
Me: *holds up card* “What is this?”
Four Students: “It’s the kitchen!”
Class Clown: “[My Name] is in the kitchen!”
Me: *holds up next card* “What is this?”
Four Students: “It’s the living room!”
Class Clown: “[My Name] is in the living room!”
(The review is now over, but I decide to give myself something to chuckle about with my coworkers later.)
Me: *holds up the closet card* “[Class Clown], what is this?”
Class Clown: “[My Name] is in the closet!”
(Usually, the locals that work with us part time have a fluent understanding of English but do not understand colloquial expressions, and I assume that this will slip by my TA, but it turns out, I underestimated my current TA. She cracks up when she hears [Class Clown] “outing” me.)
Me: *To the TA* “Oh, you know what that means?”
TA: *nodding while laughing*
(This creates a problem for me. [Class Clown] realizes he has said something funny. [Class Clown] loves nothing more than to be funny. [Class Clown] is not going to forget something he said that made him funny, even if he doesn’t understand it. For the remaining weeks I have with them, he will randomly shout at me, “[My Name] is in the closet!” Even when they graduate from this level and move into another class, it does not end. Sometimes, we pass each other in the halls or in the waiting area, where there are many teachers, employees, and parents, and he points at me and yells:)
Class Clown: “[My Name] is in the closet!”
Me: *sighing* “I deserve this.”
