An Unexpected Surgery Fund Addition

When my mom died, I was deadnamed and misgendered a bunch. It was added hurt at a painful time. I had a further reminder of that experience as I was misgendered four times by three people in the space of an hour last week at escrow while signing the paperwork to sell her condo.

I was already on edge at thinking of ending fifty-six years of family connection to the town my grandparents chose to retire to in 1962 and feeling the weight of reality that the only reason I was there was because my mom died.

The he’s and his’s stacked up, each a cis-invisible burden dropped in obliviousness upon my soul, my corrections notwithstanding and lost in the literal shuffle of papers and bustle of bodies in and out of the room.

When it was over I sat in the car afterwards, stunned and sad, taking stock and seeking a calm center before piloting away. I glanced at the folder containing copies of the paperwork, which I had thrown on the passenger’s seat. Congratulations! a sticker on the front wished me.

Congratulations I had to sell the family property because our renter, my mom’s ex-boyfriend, bailed, forcing a sale and having to process generations of family artifacts on an accelerated timeframe?

Congratulations for the check I’d receive because my mom died?

Congratulations I didn’t jab pens in people’s eyeballs, screaming, ‘She! She! Her! Her! Hers! Hers! you disrespectful cis-fucks!’?

Fuck their congratulations.

I wrote an email to my agent, (she was one of the guilty,) the next day after I’d slept on it and had fallen from volcanic to simmering anger. It detailed how I felt dehumanized and laid bare the incompetent errors they had made in the paperwork, which is why what should have taken ten minutes turned into an hour and made them careless and disrespectful; I was the wrench in their process and became an object to move along instead of a human being using their service.

I won’t tolerate bullshit over my humanity and my womanhood. Not after what I’ve been through.

It hit its mark, and the escrow fees were refunded.

Congratulations for contributing blood money to my surgery fund, escrow company. I earned it.


©Heather Coldstream

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2016: Poems from a Year of Change

Uncertain: Poems About Gender Transition

About cistotrans

A Seattle-area trans woman seeking a happy spot to stay at along the path of transition.
This entry was posted in family, gender transition, LGBT, personal history, transgender, transition and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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