In this case, I was asking for it.
To my fellow Lebanese,
Please stop staring at me with that unbecoming slack-jawed bewilderment. For a culture that stresses on social etiquette, we are disappointingly inept at recognizing our own individual faux pas which culminate to form one severe epidemic otherwise referred to as “rudeness”. Of course, many of you who engage in unnecessary staring contests with the unsuspecting do not believe it is rude to stare at someone with my appearance. Since my very existence is “inappropriate” in your eyes, you may feel that you are excused from conducting yourself in a manner that is even remotely respectable. You are not. You only think that you are, and that is entirely your responsibility. So, kindly stop giving me that look that so clearly communicates your belief that I am bringing your unmannerly behavior upon myself by choosing to express my identity.
How self-centered you must be to come to the erroneous conclusion that I make it my express goal to confuse you with my short hair, chosen apparel, and gender nonconformity. Oh, I’m sorry, do I presume too much? Well, so do you when you stare daggers at me as though I am infecting the very atmosphere around us. You see, I was (un)fortunate enough to gain insight on the nature of your thoughts from many a “People Watching” session with my lovely family members who often make it a point to blithely draw one another’s attention to a myriad of “abnormal” personalities in public and over coffee, no less.
My family is especially talented at detecting and outing trans* individuals who are not, for whatever reason, “passable”. The following are actual quotes by members of my immediate family which I will unapologetically share:
“You see that short fat man over there? It‘s not actually a man. If you pay close attention to the chest and face, you can tell its a woman pretending to be a man. Disgusting, ma hek?”
“Ya lateef! Look at that woman parking her car! LOOK! Is it a woman? It looks like a man. I’ve never seen a woman with a jaw like that. What do you want to bet its a man dressed in women’s clothing, eh? How do you think he hides his penis in a dress that short?”
Since my family is blissfully in denial about my identification as a transman, I am forced to sit through this degrading social exercise — if you can even call uncivil verbal bashings an “exercise” — in abhorrent silence. Naturally, should my family glance others staring at me with the same discourteous looks they, themselves, frequently give to others who share a similar apparent disregard for gender conformity, they attribute this scrutiny to my intimidating height, my noteworthy breadth, or, as my mother likes to remind me all too often, my being “a very pretty girl”. This brings me to my next point: I have been challenged before by friends claiming that, since there is no possible way to know what a person is thinking, I cannot immediately assume I am being stared at because I am a transman unabashedly treading the streets of Beirut. Perhaps they are admiring my outfit or think that I am attractive, or maybe they recognize me from somewhere but are simply too shy to step forward.
I want to say “good point”, but the diplomat in me cannot prevail on this subject. When you have been stared at for as long as I have, you learn to distinguish between stares that convey piqued interest and those that convey pure discomfort and/or revulsion. You do not have to be a facial expression expert to note the not-so subtle difference between the two, so even though I admittedly lack telepathic abilities, I think I am capable of discerning the expressions I continue to receive on a daily basis, from the innocuous greeting of the stranger who raises her eyebrows in acknowledgement to the contemptuous curl of one’s lips paired with the open threat of sustained eye-contact. Sadly, the latter is more prevalent in my daily life and anyone who has walked alongside me during any day of the week can attest to this.
To those of you reading this post who now realize that you may have subjected others to this inadmissible habit of prolonged staring, here is your chance to reassess your own behavior instead of unjustly forcing others into a corner with the power of your gaze alone. You must understand the implications of your unrevised actions. By staring at others for extended periods of time, you are essentially informing that person without words, and in no uncertain terms, that there is something fundamentally wrong with them, whether or not that was your intention.
We Lebanese have a repugnant reputation for shamelessly staring at others, and whether you’re a woman accused of encouraging men to leer at you due to your “provocative” taste in fashion or a woman allegedly inviting crude remarks from men because you’re female, a person who is overweight or obese and made to feel ashamed for your body type, a woman with short hair or a man with long hair, someone with a disability or a stigmatized disorder, or any one just trying to express your identity in a way that suits you, you will understand the kind of internal turmoil that arises from the callous disregard of others for your feelings as a human being presumptuously labeled “abnormal” and, therefore, deserving of others’ inappropriate breach of basic social etiquette.
Sincerely urging you to be more self-aware,
Lore
P.S. You would do well to remember that my chosen gender expression has no impact on your life, whatsoever. Having said that, you can go ahead and stop trying to decipher my physiological sex by undressing me with your eyes. It’s fucking rude.
Unrealisdick 