Shout out to the lady who immediately came to my defense. In the event that you somehow stumble across this strip in the future, I was the lady wearing a Jets hat at the Moynihan Train Hall on June 19th, 2026. I appreciate you so much. Keep being that person, you displayed perfectly what being an ally looks like.
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It was a nice day, a really nice day. We had met up with a bunch of friends from all over in the city, and as the resident New Yorkers, my wife and I got a kick out of the visiting folks taking in the sights.
Since I was out with a group had we were having a good time, I didn’t want to draw too much attention to what went down in the bathroom. I let everyone know, sure, but I still was laughing it off.
Once I was home though, It hasn’t been able to get out of my mind.
At a base level, it’s a reminder that I don’t pass. Like, I know I don’t, but it sucks to have it rubbed in my face in that way.
Beyond that however, the idea that I (and other trans folks) are “cursed”, carries a dark implication: that we are fundamentally flawed or damaged human beings; that we are “less than” by nature.
No matter how much I knew this would eventually happen, it genuinely was shocking in the moment and I almost couldn’t believe it. I’m now acutely aware that this could happen again, at any time, and I might not be as lucky when it does.
What if no one defends me? What if there’s no one else? What if the person gets violent? What if a man follows me in?
There’s a whole new terror that has been baked into my life that I’m now unable to escape from.
Using the restroom should be a mundane experience, but now every time I do, there will be the specter of “what if?”
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