I was going to write about Safe Spaces on Tuesday then Monday night the fire alarm in our house went haywire so I was up at midnight with the house literally yelling FIRE at me which I was like, I just wrote about free speech and how yelling Fire! shouldn't be covered so I thought maybe don't cover safe spaces today just incase the full moon is bring some sort of weird ju ju to the proceedings...
Yes, that opening paragraph was a lot but it's the way my head was going on Tuesday so I felt like you should get the raw footage.
So instead I thought about writing about an encounter I had when I decided to get my toe nail polish changed.
And then I realized..."fuck me...this is a safe spaces story."
So I let it sit for a few days just to show the Universe it can't tell me what to do!
(yesterday was going to be cancel culture so I guess I cancelled the Universe for a day, which let's be frank, is about how long cancelling someone lasts)
Anyway...
I was planning on getting a pedicure on Tuesday. The shop we normally use is near the old house which is a bit of a drive but there is a shop right at the end of our street so I figured I'd check them out. Then I dropped the car charger on my foot so no pedicure for me. But I am going to need to wear open toed shoes for awhile so I was back to really needing a pedicure. Decided to split the difference, get a polish change and check out the new shop at least partially.
One of my core personality traits is I give the compliment. I do it to people I know and to strangers. Everyone likes compliments. Even if they make you a little uncomfortable in the moment (trust me, I get it, it's taken me years to learn how to say "thank you" instead of discounting the compliment) later on when you think about it you know "I do have great shoes." or "This is a lovely color on me." or "My hair does look fabulous." But, as most of you know, I'm also not overly social. I'm not shy, like Brent and Katie, I will talk to strangers, but I'd rather not talk for long. I usually give the compliment as a fly by or when I know I'm leaving or they are.
For instance Sunday at breakfast there was a family seated near us and the mom was wearing a really cute dress. I did not tell her it was a really cute dress until we were leaving. I didn't want that awkward rest of the meal space where either one of us felt like we needed to chat. But I did want to let her know that she looked really cute.
So Tuesday...I'm waiting in a short line to see if they have time to change my polish and there is a woman at the counter who has gorgeously tanned skin. The kind of tan that you know she works on to get that way. She was wearing little white shorts to really emphasize the tan. So I let her know as she was leaving. "You have gorgeous skin tone. Really lovely."
And...
You know how I say if you are going to be an activist, if you are going to be mouthy, if you are going to stand up to authority you need to know you can take a punch in the face? Well if you are going to be a compliment giver to strangers you need to be ready for the onslaught. Especially if, like me, you are cursed with FFS, Friendly Face Syndrome. Strangers tell me their life's story. Even when I don't give them the opening compliment. But when I do start it I know what could be coming. And oh boy...
I pretty much knew instantly that I might have made a mistake. This was her reply (or at least as much as I can remember): "I cheat. I go to B'Tan to make sure I've got a good base layer. And then yesterday I was on the river for like 6 hours and I did get burned, but it fade quickly because of that. As soon as I got home I took a cool shower to draw the heat out and then I buy from Costco these really big containers of coconut oil and I use that on my skin. I really shouldn't be out like that in the sun because I have Lupus," (cue horrified look on my face with me starting to say, no you shouldn't! but not being able to get out any words before she went on) "but I do it anyway. I also have rheumatoid arthritis and osteoarthritis so I just want to make sure I'm moving all the time while I can. I told myself I'm 50 so I need to do what I want and not be so worry about anything else. I was born with Klinefelter Syndrome, that's where you have both masculine and feminine parts and traits, and it comes with a whole host of health issues so I just want to make sure I do what I like to do. And I go to the gym everyday."
(she took a long enough breath here for me to get in.)
"I understand that. I have arthritis as well and I keep moving so I can keep moving, it's really important."
Then the woman who had been next in line was done so I could take my turn and I thought our encounter was over. She left with a wave over my body, "Well you look great too so keep it up! When you are 50 you will be glad you did!"
I just smiled and told her to have a good day.
Then went and took a seat to get my polished changed.
I hadn't be there long when the door opened and she came back into the shop. She had messed up her nail getting in to her car and needed it fixed. Then decided that while she was back she'd just have them take her toe nail polish off as well and plopped down in the chair next to me.
Oh it's one of those encounters.
And I was well and truly stuck. So I settled in for the ride. I know where she vacations, what she does on those vacations, I know all about her slipstream camper that she refurbished herself in a steampunk style. She showed me pictures and it's really adorable. I listened to her for about a half hour as she talked about SCUBA diving with sharks in Hawaii, SUP in Alaska and all over the world really. She's very active. Especially since she's 50. She told me her age a lot. And I love it. I mean you all know how I am about aging. We need to be joyful in it. Fifty is nifty!
She mentioned how different things are now than when she was a kid and I agreed. She said, "Well you're Gen X like me right?"
And I said, "I am. I'm actually older than you are."
"Oh you are not."
"I am, I'll be 54 next month."
I love that moment and hope that I will be like my mother and get it for my entire life. The one of disbelief. The you look so good for your age. I know I do. I know it's vain and shallow and I did nothing to earn it. My parents both looked younger than they were, it's just genetics. And not doing anything to really fuck that up. I mean if I had kept smoking and kept trying to tan my skin to her shade I would look like a fruit roll-up by now, but I didn't so I look younger than my age.
When she had run out of things to keep her in the shop and I had subtly mentioned I would be running a lot more errands after I was done with this stop she said her farewells and left again. The woman doing my toes smiled and told me I was a nice lady for listening. I told her we all need someone to listen sometimes.
And that's really it. She needed someone to listen.
I had a lot of things I would have liked to ask her but didn't. The first thing being does she always lead conversations with the fact that she has Klinefelter Syndrome? I mean, I assumed she was trans. Even before she turned around and I was just admiring her skin tone I suspected she might be. So why does she put that out there right away? Safety? Separation from other trans folx? Hoping that someone who might be a trans bigot would be more understanding if they knew she was born with both male and female aspects? If I were friends with her instead of just a friendly face I would have asked.
I also would have asked her how safe she felt traveling in her camper by herself. And on cruises and on the river. That's been my biggest fear for Katie. Will she be safe? But what would it tell me if she said she had been safe, or hadn't? Nothing really.
But I didn't talk much. Supportive noises mostly. A few shared stories about Hawaii and Alaska. I told her about a friend's daughter who does stand up paddle boarding on rapids and how amazing that is to me to watch, especially since I couldn't even stand up the time Brent and I tried it.
It was a tidal wave of information from her. A series of photos off her phone she shared with me. And bright red toe nails to finish the visit.
And, like I mentioned, later when I was thinking about it, it was a safe space story.
In the blog before this one I mentioned the blog I wrote a few years ago about safe spaces and how I don't really believe they exist. There is always something unsafe lurking. And how I don't believe they should exist in the academic realms, at least in the we never talk about uncomfortable topics realm. But I do know that it's important to feel safe. To have moments where you feel like you are going to be okay.
To have moments where you interact with a stranger who doesn't treat you oddly because you have Klinefelter Syndrome.
I give the compliment. I'm prepared to get hit in the face with a lot of information when I do. And I try my best to take it all in and be that moment in someone's day that is pleasant. That is safe.
I am a safe space.
Aint that a bitch?
No comments:
Post a Comment