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staring at the ceiling

March 2018

I tended to spend my weekend mornings just staring at the ceiling, trying to figure things out.

Sometimes I looked around my room and asked myself "why do I even have these women's clothes". Other times: "why do I even have these men's clothes".

I missed a couple of invitations to lunch. I told some people I slept through them, which was at least close to true. I told a small number of others (who knew more) that it was okay, I wasn't avoiding them, I was just working shit out. I hope they believed me.

But later, on this particular Sunday night, I was more decisive about something.

I walked to my a cappella rehearsal, about a mile, wearing a skirt.

I gave the group an update on all this. One person who hadn't been there the first time squeee'd and followed up excitedly with: "Do you want to go shopping?" I sure did. We made plans to go to Goodwill together and look for clothes.

At the end of the rehearsal: "So, um. I'm new to this and I haven't even had to think about this before. Should I even walk home now that it's dark? Would I be safe?"

The women in the group generally agreed that I'd be walking through a safe area where they didn't feel threatened at night, but that I should really decide for myself.

I called a Lyft. The driver confirmed my name, and I acknowledged quietly. But I knew it wasn't a name that fit me very well.

The next day, I added "they/them" to my Twitter bio, and wondered if anyone would notice.

7. sisters