Just Passing

9. Being an Ally

It's the last week of August and we're all officially back at work. Jessica is setting up her desk in our shared office space, which is off of the larger main-office suite. I'm not sure why we need to pack everything up in the spring just to unpack it in the fall. Why is it so important for the custodians to wax the floors? I mean, they do look all nice and shinny, but what a hassle.

"So, Heather was nice," Jessica offers as way of a conversation starter as she hangs a new photo of her kids: two boys, 7 and 9. They're wearing hoodie sweatshirts as they stand smiling with the Golden Gate Bridge behind them. They must have flown out to visit her parents over the summer, in addition to the trip down to Florida she was telling me about before. I look forward to the day that I'll be able to take Spencer and Nora on a plane like it's no big deal.

"Yeah, it was fun running into her." That's a lie. It was totally awkward and I spent the whole training waiting for her to call me the wrong name or to use the wrong pronoun. She didn't, thank God.

"Must have been weird seeing someone from high school. I know it would've been for me! I've changed so much since I was 17, though, who knows if they'd even recognize me." She laughs. The way she says it makes me feel uncomfortable. Did Heather say something about me when I left to go to the bathroom or something?

I'm being paranoid.

"You're right. Totally weird." I match her laughter as I continue to unpack and organize my file folders.

A few minutes later she asks, "So, have you looked over the student rosters yet?"

It's an odd question. The class lists were made before summer break and we won't go through and decide who needs additional math support until the first diagnostic tests are given the second week of school. "No, why?"

"Oh, well–"

"Ms. Ramos, Mr. Graham! How's the unpacking going?" Steve pops his head through the door, interrupting whatever Jessica was about to say.

"Having a blast," I deadpan.

"Ha! At least you just have an office and not a whole classroom. Hey, did you see that Alison Greene in fourth grade is supposedly a boy now? We have to call her Blake." Steve scrunches up his nose.

"Yeah, I was just about to tell Xander," says Jessica.

What the fuck? Seriously? Did Heather say something? Are they pranking me or trying to trick me? My brain feels frozen. "I–What?" Is all I can manage to spit out.

"I know. What is the world coming to? We didn't have anything like this back in my day." Steve really should have retired a few years ago, but since his wife died he seems to spend longer and longer days at school, just walking the halls and hanging out in the main office. I have a feeling he'll never leave his position voluntarily. "When I was a kid -yeah, when the dinosaurs roamed the earth- boys grew up to be men and girls grew up to be women. Seems like a pretty basic fact of biology, but you can't even say that now a days."

"You're right, Steve, you can't," Jessica confirms. But her tone is light-hearted, agreeable.

"Okay. Alison Greene is now Blake Greene. Noted. Thanks, Steve," is all I can muster.

Steve shakes his head with a smile as he turns to walk back down the hall to his classroom. Good thing he doesn't teach fourth grade. If Blake was in his class, that would be a disaster. I guess that's a bridge we'll have to cross in a couple years.

"Her poor parents, right?" Jessica says once Steve is gone.

"His parents?" I correct.

"Oh, geez, I guess you're right. How many times am I going to mess that up?"

"Well, it might take some time."

"But really, can you even imagine having your little girl tell you that she wants to be a boy?"

The way she says it lets me know that she has no idea that I'm trans. No one at work does. I guess Heather didn't spill my secret. But now, thinking about Blake, my relief turns into something else. An unnamed blob of an emotion churning somewhere just beyond my reach.

"Well, if Blake is trans, then he is a boy. It's not just that he wants to be one. He is one. And as a parent, that might be tough to hear at first, but ultimately you want your kids to be happy, right? If he's transitioning in fourth grade, then his parents must be supportive. He's a lucky kid." It's what I would want a cis person to say. And living as stealth gives me the opportunity and privilege to be a strong ally. It's good that my colleagues don't know that I'm trans, it means that my words have more impact. Right?

"Huh, maybe. I don't know. I've never met a trans person. Seems like they have hard lives. Like, what possible future does Alison -uh, Blake- even have?"

Shit. There's that feeling again. The blob continues to churn and grow.

"Well, the world is changing. The fact that a kid can even come out this early is proof of that."

"I don't know. It's pretty strange." She makes a face that lets me know just how strange she finds it. And this is someone who was raised in San Francisco. Isn't religious. Hates Trump. Belongs to a CSA.

I let her comment hang in the air. It swirls around my head. A pesky mosquito buzzing in my ear. I swat it away and try to ignore it. But all of a sudden I get an itch. What if I just told her right now? Told her that for the past five years she'd been sharing an office space with a real live trans person and she hadn't even known it?

I glance at my open laptop. There's a new email from our principal. The subject line almost makes me laugh. Almost. "Tomorrow: Mandatory Diversity Training on Gender Identity and Gender Expression."

Great. I get to learn how to be sensitive to transgender people. This will be fun and informative, especially if I get to sit at the same table as Steve. I can't fucking wait.