“Passing” at churchPosted: July 3, 2015
I don’t go to church, but I made an exception last Sunday for my grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary. My family surprised them there and attended service with them, then we took a drive to the church they were married at to take some photos, and then we went out to a fancy lunch.
It was awesome to see their surprise. And to meet some of the congregation. I realized I never see my grandparents outside of a family context, so it was novel and exciting to see them interacting with their church people and see them being celebrated by the entire church.
One congregant in particular was super outgoing and came over to introduce herself before the service started. She went down the row of where we were in the pew, and we all introduced ourselves. When she got to me, she asked, “Is this a grandson?” And my grandma replied, “Granddaughter,” even though I have told her (and my whole family) how I identify. This lady didn’t seem to catch that or care, and when I told her my name (the name I’m using with family, for now), she heard something different which was fine by me!
She came back after the service and pressed some more. She said,
“I think I’ve met you before! Were you with him [pointing to my uncle] outside of Dick’s Sporting Goods one time? I definitely remember that.”
“No, I don’t think I ever was,” I replied.
We went back and forth a little more until it got cleared up that it was actually my adult male cousin who had been with my uncle. (We look nothing alike, he’s big and has huge muscles and facial hair, but I thought it was pretty awesome!)
It’s strange that these occurrences never seem to fluster my family members (maybe they’re uncomfortable on the inside though) yet they can’t seem to integrate how I identify (and how I’m sometimes seen by others) with how they interact with me. Some of them are trying though – three in particular are consistently using male pronouns while the rest of the family responds with female pronouns. Maybe there will be a critical mass at some point where the tables turn. I hope…