I've mentioned before that my dear ex-husband (DXH) and I are good friends.  Since he just snagged an *awesome* job, we decided to hit the outlet stores to celebrate (because, yes, that's the kind of crazy-ass, free-wheeling kids we are). 

We went to the Nordstrom Rack, where we found some killer shirts at decent prices.   Since the cut of shirts ALWAYS varies from one brand to another (more details on this in a later post), it's always good to try things on.  I took about 12 shirts into the dressing room; DXH took four.  He was directed into a room at the end of the hall, but *I* was stopped by a saleswoman, who asked: "Do you know what shirt size you are?" 

It was a busy Sunday, and men had been entering and exiting the dressing room unimpeded.  If she had redirected me to the women's dressing room, I'd have at least known what she was thinking.  But I was so taken aback that I asked her to repeat the question.  She did, but it still struck me as  a bizarrely idiotic thing to ask someone who was CLEARLY about to try 12 shirts on.  I stammered, "Uh, 17-32." 

OH, I thought as I answered.  NOW I get it.  She's about to offer to measure my neck.  Unnecessary, but I appreciate the thought.  I started down the hall when she stopped me again, and asked: "And are those shirts 17s?"

"No," I wanted to say.  "They're 15s.  But I wanted to see if I could rip the collars by buttoning them SUPER TIGHT and then flexing my neck ."  WTF?  Instead, I said, "Yeah," and continued down the hall in order to snag a room next to DXH, whereupon Rude Woman REDIRECTED me to the first room by the door (presumably because I needed to be watched).

If she was trying to intimidate me, she did a damn good job.  I HATE being in the dressing room by the door, because it ensures that I will see as MANY men as possible while I'm going out to look in the mirror.  Which is exactly what happened, and I got more stares and glares and surprised looks than has occurred since I entered the women's bathroom at a Chinese church (I am tallish and white, and I was wearing a tie--it was not a pleasant scene).
As DXH pointed out afterward, it wasn't a locker room; it was a dressing room.  Complete with individual, lockable doors.  WHY did this woman feel the need to police me (and police me so strangely!)?  The whole thing made me super uncomfortable.

And then I was angry at myself for being uncomfortable.

I've been reading Kristen Schilt's book, Just One of the Guys?, which details FTMs' workplace experience.  She interviews more than 50 trans men about their transitions' effects on how they were received in their places of employment.  About half the men she interviewed applied for their current jobs as men, and weren't out as trans at work.  The other half transitioned while in the workplace, so their co-workers knew them as women,  then as men.

Schilt,  to her own surprise, finds that the majority of FTMs have very positive workplace experiences, and--here comes the disturbing part--report that they are treated better by their co-workers once they start presenting as men.  This was true for both sets of trans men, even those whose co-workers previously knew them as women!  Straight cismen in the workplace embraced the FTMs "as" men--for example, inviting them to play tackle football with other men in the office, taking them to Hooters, or offering to teach them how to do "man stuff." 

On one hand, this study is encouraging, and somewhat hopeful for the acceptance of trans men in the workplace.  But on the other hand, as Schilt says, the idea that the same person is treated much better when presenting as a man than presenting as a woman really highlights the continuing presence of gender inequality in the workplace!

Also, since a lot of the trans men presented as butches before transitioning, I wonder: were FTMs treated better post-transition because they were no longer seen as women, or because they were no longer seen as gender-deviant women specifically?  Maybe it's easier for people to understand a trans guy than a butch because (in terms of physical appearance) the trans guy fits into the gender dichotomy and the butch lesbian does not.  So maybe this study doesn't show gender inequality as much as it shows inequality on the basis of gender conformity.  I don't know.

I met an awesome, youngish scholar today who's (sort of) in my academic field.  We got to talking about the job interview process, and she mentioned that she has a bunch of butchy lesbian friends who were on the fence about wearing a tie to their interviews.  And if no tie, whether to wear a suit jacket.

In the end, her friends didn't wear ties.  They didn't want people to think they were male-identified (since they're not), nor did they want to be perceived as "too aggressive" (what?!).  Sure, there's a whole "angry butch lesbian" stereotype out there, but do people really subscribe to it?

Apparently so.

This person told me, "Men's suit jackets on women are perceived as aggressive."  AND, because of increased trans-visibility--a wonderful thing, definitely--but in progressive circles, women with "male" fashion markers are increasingly assumed to want to be men.  Not in the butch-lesbians-have-penis-envy sense, but in the I'm-taking-testosterone-and-have-a-double-masectomy-scheduled sense.

Wow.  I'm fine with people who meet me thinking I'm trans, I guess (I'm not, but who cares?).  But aggressive?  Angry?

So what do I do in a couple years when I go on the job market?  What have YOU, dear new readers, done?  I'd love to get your advice.

At the risk of other butches' ridicule, I have something to share. 

I wax.

Not the nether-regions--just my face.  But my friend C says I'm crazy for doing it.  The thing is, I *like* having nicely-shaped eyebrows that don't grow together or extend to my ears (such that it appears I am permanently wearing a furry '80s-inspired headband).   Additionally, though God saw fit to endow me with a tiny black mustache (as if I am, say, a 60-year-old Eastern European woman), that doesn't mean I'm obligated to keep it.

Waxing hurts a little, but as I like telling C, I'm butch enough to take it.  It's not for my gf, either (she literally does not notice these things).  I like having a smooth upper lip and well-manicured brows.  If that makes me a faggy butch, well, who cares?  That's just extra gayness--bring it on!

If you choose to join the exclusive ranks of waxing butches, here are a few tips to make your experience a good one:

1. Choose a nice spa--some place that also does massages, facials, etc.  This ensures that your aesthetician (that's what they call them--I kid you not) will be good.  They don't hire just anyone at those places.
2. Don't book the first person available.  Ask who has the longest wait, then choose one of those people.  They're booked solid for a reason.
3. When you make your grand entrance, be prepared for startled looks from a girly-girl or bitchy gay dude behind the counter.  They're not trying to be rude; they just don't see a lot of our kind in there.
   
4. Explain in detail to the aesthetician what you're looking for.  I told mine, point-blank, that I want eyebrows as thick as a guy's, and that I wanted it to look very natural.  Be insistent about this; they're used to dealing with women who want their brows to look like painted toothpicks.
5. If you face a language barrier, it's okay to ask for a translator or politely request a different aesthetician.  Yeah, it's ridiculously awkward, but you're not being a jerk--you're saving your eyebrows from being accidentally waxed to oblivion.
6. To give yourself an incentive to get in there, you can always schedule a massage afterward.  Sometimes the same person is licensed to do both.  (If you don't feel comfortable with massages, I totally get it.  More on this another day.)
7. When the aesthetician is done, she'll hand you a mirror.  Be honest about whether you're satisfied.
8. Leave a tip.  It's rude if you don't.  The standard is 15-20 percent of the cost of service.  Give it to the aesthetician directly, or ask the front desk to give it to her (that's what those tiny envelopes are for).  Cash is best.
9. If you like what you see, go back as often as you need to.  I should go back every 5-6 weeks, but more often, it's every 9-10 weeks.
   
10. Between waxings, you can pluck (but don't have to!) as long as you don't go crazy with the tweezers.  Follow the line your aesthetician created. 
    
11. BONUS BUTCH TIP: If your brows get too tall and bushy between waxings, you can trim them with a regular ol' fingernail clipper.  Wet your eyebrows and brush them upward with a comb or a toothbrush, then carefully insert the longish tips of your brows into the fingernail clipper and squeeze.  Instant trim!

For the record, I shave my 'pits and legs, too (using a men's Mach 3 razor and men's Edge shave gel).  And I'm no less butch for the wear.