i am at a train station. i have a friend over, and she's into trains (so typical of trans women and transfems like us). We go to the platforms that do not have gates closed. That's a thing in France for high-speed trains. This fucking country is so paranoid. All of us have our cameras. We love spending time at the station taking cool train photos. We see a very cool looking freight train pass by the platform. We take pictures. For about twenty seconds.
On the way out of the platform, three security guards corner us. They demand to know why we were on the platform. We answer that we like looking at trains. They look at our cameras, tell us that taking photographs in train stations is illegal (no it's not) and we must delete all of them immediately (no we don't). My friend doesn't speak french, so the three imposing men speak to me and i translate. i don't translate how they gender my friend and i (male). i act dumb, knowing they're full of shit, but trying my best not to get actual cops called on a foreigner. Looking like tourists probably saved us.
Then they see our respirators, that we wore on the subway on our way here. And ask why we have that. They look ready to grab us and escort us. i explain that we're in poorly ventilated places in the metro, and there's COVID in the air. They don't look convinced. They don't grab us, but they force us out of the station.
i have never been to the station to take photos ever again.
An old lady comes to me. i am attending the wedding of one of her friends, as a plus one for a relative of a friend. i spend most of my time outside, chilling, away from the overwhelming sound system and tight crowd. Every now and then, i go back inside briefly to grab a drink and take pictures. At one point, while going back outside, this kind lady stops me and asks, in a half-worried half-surprised tone: "why do you put a mask on? are you sick or something?".
i am used to that question, at this point. i say "no, i am not sick, i just pay attention to-"
"oh but i'm asking because, you know, i'm an at-risk person, i would really need to know if you were sick", she says.
i politely signal my understanding of her situation before we part ways. She plunges back into the poorly-ventilated, cramped room, where she just spent the last 5 hours dancing and eating and chatting with dozens upon dozens of guests, none of whom are masked. Neither is she. i feel something indescribable.
i am buying groceries with my flatmates. The store is packed. People are looking at us. i'm wearing my mask. People are staring. i mind my voice. It gets louder when i'm anxious. i don't hold it as well when i feel seen. In the corner of my eyes, i recognize the head of security at the store. i've seen him before. He loves harassing non-white customers at checkout. He looks like the worst undercover cop ever. At first i don't notice, but he's tailing us. i make a note of it. At checkout, he's still roaming around, but he has probably moved on.
A couple weeks later, i'm in the produce aisle. We have friends over who do not speak french, and we're buying stuff together. A rather affluent-looking old white guy sees us and jokes to his wife that we're afraid to catch dust. He genders all of us male (a zero out of three). i consider removing my mask to pretend-cough at him. i remember the head of security. i am boiling with rage. i feel my body's entire presence in space all of a sudden. i feel like a man in drag. We get our cucumbers and onion bags and go. i want to leave as soon as i can.
i decide to start taking notes whenever this kind of thing happens. Keep a record. Perhaps it can help some people realize how badly it's affecting me, and, surely, others.
At the cash register, another couple weeks later, somebody two rows over looks at me and my roommates and start laughing. Visibly. Like we can't see her. She probably doesn't care. She's beckoning a colleague to come look at us. To watch us. We get on with checkout, hoping we don't run into more trouble. i make a mental note: is this happening more frequently? Why is it always when i'm looking more fem? Is it directed specifically at me? Am i only noticing it only every so often because i don't go out that much anymore? Why is it so much worse on Saturdays? On the weekends? Do they think only people who look middle-class, cis, and don't give a shit about their immune system should be allowed here?
i pay 108.26€. i remember the amount. It's all i can fixate on right now. i want to puke.
i go to the mall. i need to refresh my hair dye supply, and i want to get new weights to lift. Going there in person is the most convenient way to do it. i'm sweating and agitated, because the bicycle ride there was constantly interrupted by poorly signed construction work. i get the dye. i note that the lady at the checkout genders me and my partner as female. Today we both have good passing, i guess. We walk to the sports hardware store, and i spot a security guy. He's slow. i'm considering telling my partner to slow down, so we never have to walk in front of him to get to the store.
Once inside, we roam around for a bit. It's confusing. We finally find the weights section, it's in a cul-de-sac aisle at the back of the store. There are other customers in it. A mom and her kids. She's watching us. She beckons her kids to get out quickly when they decide they can't find whatever apparel that the kids' after-school sport will require or something. We find the dumbbells. While looking for the right weight (5kg), i make a note in the corner of my eyes that about three employees of the store have gathered in a half circle of light-blue jackets and puzzled looks. A minute later, we've not made more progress on finding the 5kg neoprene dumbbells, but a tall male figure with a grey beard and a high viz vest calls us.
He genders us female. i don't know why that's the thing that my brain sticks to. i think i needed something to hold onto that wasn't his questioning. i'm not in my body anymore. i vaguely recall pointing at the paper masks hanging from my backpack, and the paper folded inside the filters of my mask, telling him something about COVID, and faking a cough. He's happy enough to let us shop, but not happy enough to let us be. He joins the circle of employees overlooking us at the open end of the aisle of overpriced sports hardware, which has grown to over five of them. i pretend i can't see them. But i can feel their eyes pierce me. Eventually, we give up, and go ask one of them if they have the 5kg neoprene weights. They don't have them anymore, she says. We look at other options. She stands there like she has no idea what to do. Like she's just watching us. Like she's been tasked to keep an eye on us. Eventually, she points out a cheaper option than what we would have picked: a kit. We decide to take it. It's heavy as balls. It distracts me from the onlooking employees, families, and the high viz mall cop who's still trying his best to hide about two aisles away from us while he's fixated on us. We walk to the cash registers. He follows behind us. Lamentable tailing skills.
We leave the sports shop. i have to hand the kit to my roommate, because it's becoming too much. My arms are starting to give. While she hands me my phone back, i notice the mall cop still behind us. We walk all the way to our bikes outside. It's pouring. i remove my mask right as the outside door opens. i spend about five minutes removing my bike locks and securely tying the kit to my back rack. It started pouring outside. All along, a woman who found shelter in the bicycle shed watches us. The mall cop is right outside the door we just took, watching us. A small gathering of bystanders gather around the door. Watching us.
They're all watching. They're all watching. Until we are literally out of sight.
i come back home and do my best to carry the kit up eight flights of stairs. Eventually, i beg my roommate to take it and climb the second half. My legs are going to give out. They're shaking because the stress of everything just hit, and i can hardly carry my own weight anymore.
i arrive home, and write this. i debate sitting on it for a day or two. Maybe a couple hours. Editing is probably worth the wait. But i need to scream into the void. Right now. i still feel their eyes. i still feel their eyes on me.
why do i still feel their eyes on me