Me
My name is not Meg, but you can call me Meg. That’s why I named my blog “You Can Call Me Meg.” You can reach me at youcancallmemeg@gmail.com.
The blog ran from June 2010 through June 2015. I started it to chronicle something I thought was unique but turned out to be merely rare: flying pretty.
I stopped blogging because Meg wasn’t going out much. That was ironic, since I was in a relationship with a partner who was more supportive than I could ever have imagined. Maybe I felt I had done it all—I certainly hadn’t—and that my experiences and blog posts would just become repetitive.
Why I’m Here
Now, ten years later, Meg still goes out occasionally, and I’ve become more androgynous, often going out partly dressed. I frequently get “ma’am’d.”
I now live near Denver, and in May I started volunteering at a local museum. I’m one of about 300 volunteers, although the same ten or twenty people seem to show up every week.
One day, when I was wearing nothing feminine except dangly earrings, a visitor arrived while no one was at the welcome desk. I was nearby, so I stepped in to help. The volunteer who was supposed to be there rushed up and asked the visitor, “May I help you?” His tone suggested—to me, at least—that I was usurping his position.
The visitor pointed at me and said, “No, she’s helping me.”
So here’s the lede I’m burying: a few weeks ago, I thought it would be nice to volunteer as Meg. Best case: I could present as whichever gender I wished for a particular shift. I didn’t think about the worst case. Or anything in between.
I thought about it a lot.
It’s not like a job where I’d see the same coworkers every day and worry that my presentation might become a distraction. The visitors change all the time. The museum also has two all-gender restrooms—I guess you always have to consider that in the current atmosphere.
A few weeks ago, I approached the volunteer coordinator, my “boss.”
I had a few things to discuss, mostly procedural questions about passes and training. Then I said, “I have something I’d like to discuss that’s a little more complicated. I’m trans, and I’d like the opportunity to volunteer presenting as female.”
After multiple rehearsals, I was surprisingly calm, although I still wasn’t certain how to describe myself. Should I identify as trans? A crossdresser? Genderfluid? Nonbinary?
She nodded and said that would be fine.
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly—or that she’d heard me correctly. I elaborated: “I’d like to present as male or female, depending on a number of factors.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “You do you. Do you need a different badge?”
I was floored. That was my next question, and she’d anticipated it! I said yes, and she told me to upload a photo and the name I’d like to use.
I went home and spent too much time figuring out Meg’s “standard” appearance. Then I took a clear photo and uploaded it.
A couple of days later, I went in for my next shift in male mode. While I was talking to a visitor, I felt someone press something into my hand.
It was my Meg badge.
I’m not sure how to address this with the few volunteers who already know me. My tendency is to joke, but I think I’ll just be straightforward.
“It’s what I do sometimes.”
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| Huntz Hall, Leo Gorcey, David Gorcey and Gil Stratton femulating in the 1952 film Hold That Line. |
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