You’ve no doubt never heard of “trans bingo,” but it became my game of choice not long after I came out as trans last spring at the age of 63. It was my way of coping with something about transition that I should’ve expected but never suspected.
Since I was more often than not the first trans person that friends, family members and complete strangers had ever actually spoken to, they all had questions. Lots and lots of questions. “When did you know?” “What parts have you had either removed or added?” “What are you into now, chicks or dudes?” “Is that your real hair?” And so many more.
These queries tumbled out with such regularity, it became a bit of a struggle to answer them without feeling overwhelmed and sometimes even annoyed. Then, after having dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen for years (who just kept repeating “What the fuck, dude?” throughout our meal), I came up with “trans bingo” to keep from weeping openly, when the relentless questioning left me feeling like I was being othered into a caricature. Once anyone asked me five of these routine questions in a row, I’d yell “Bingo!” — at least in my head. It helped me to take a step back, catch my breath and refocus myself.
I’ve started to feel like trans people are the gender equivalent of Bitcoin: We’ve both been in the news a lot these past few years; our existence isn’t easy for people to comprehend; and people are constantly clearing their browser history so nobody will know they’ve been searching for information about us.
I looked at my future and all I could see was myself constantly explaining my existence and feeling othered, even if people were quizzing me with the best of intentions.
Courtesy of Caragh Donley
I knew transitioning wouldn’t be easy, but I…
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