Transition Require Before You Can Tinkle

(A woman comes running out of the female shower room, in a towel, shrieking.)

Woman: “There’s a man inside there!”

Me: “What?! Anyone else? What’s he doing?” *to friend* “Go get staff.”

Woman: “I didn’t see anyone else. He’s just standing there half naked at the sinks.”

(A male and female staff comes over.)

Male Staff: “Is there anyone inside there?”

Female Voice: “I’m here! Alone.”

Female Staff: “Someone said there was a man in there.”

Woman: “There is! He’s shirtless.

Female Voice: “Sorry! That would be me. Just come in.”

(The female staff walks in and comes out a minute later.)

Female Staff: “It’s a boy kind of girl, wearing some skin colored binding.”

Woman: *relieved sigh* “Oh…”

(Some time later, I see a man walking around the hallways in the women’s quarters.)

Me: “Hey, miss? Or is it sir?”

Transman: *smiles* “Sir would be great. I’m a guy.”

Me: “Was that you in the showers earlier? I was outside when—”

Transman: “—a girl came out freaking about me?”

Me: “Yeah. Sorry that happened.”

Transman: “I don’t seem to fit anywhere. I can’t be with the men because there’s an F on my ID. And I freak out women.”

Me: “No, you do fit. I hope someday you wouldn’t have to be here, you belong with other men because you are one.”

Transman: “Thanks.”

(I kept in touch with him for a few years. Last I heard, his university allowed him to use the men’s washrooms and that he wants surgery after he gets a good job. He told me I was the first stranger, who wasn’t LGBTQ, who thought he might want to be called “sir”.)