LGBTQAI+
Gender Dysphoria/Euphoria: The Enby and the Uber
The things you don’t notice can make an Enby’s head explode
CW: Enby has been used as a shortened version of non-binary, however, not all non-binary, gender non-conforming, or gender expansive people use or like this term — please always respectfully ask.
The Enby and the Uber — Prologue
As a full-time house/pet-sitter who doesn’t drive, I rely on public transport to get me to my next address, wherever that may be, and however long that may take. And sometimes, it’s just ridiculously easier to call an Uber. But Ubers come with their own quirky little problems and for me, as a trans-masc non-binary (possibly agender — I’m still exploring that ‘label’) person, it’s the little things that make me cringe. And it’s the little things that give me gender euphoria.
Part 1 — Uber Pick Up
It was time to move again. I’d finished up with one sit and it was time for the next. A mere 7.8 km away, I could have walked it in under 90 minutes if it weren’t for my life in a suitcase and backpack. I mean, 27kg combined is a pretty solid life-minimization, but still a bitch to walk with. So, faced with an equally long 90-minute public transport journey (and I DO mean journey with two buses, a train, and 27 minutes of walking) or 15 minutes in an Uber for $20, it was a pretty easy decision, this time.
He wasn’t far away, just a three-minute wait, and when he arrived, he didn’t get out of the car. And that is where things because interesting — at least, for me.
Oh, shoot! Wait, I’m assuming pronouns and gender for my Uber driver, aren’t I? Well, crap on a cracker.
So, when they(?) picked me up, they didn’t get out of the car to help me with my suitcase. Which I’m totally fine with! During the peak of COVID, riders were specifically told that drivers weren’t allowed to help with suitcases, and besides, to be honest, when they do, I cringe. Even prior to the almighty-trans-egg-crack, it made me cringe because my brain likes to assume that most Uber drivers would only help ‘a poor weak woman’ — I mean, fucking GRRRRRrrrr on so many levels, but anyway. And yes, I’m making a huge generalization, but that’s the point of generalizations, lol.
“…my brain likes to assume that most Uber drivers would only help ‘a poor weak woman’…”
I KNOW they are just trying to be helpful but it reeks of misgendering. Of course, prior to the aforementioned almighty-trans-egg-crack, I thought that I thought it reeked of misogyny but was also very happy to let them help because that shit was heavy. To add another layer (if my therapist ever reads this, we may have words), I still want them to help because that shit is still heavy and because I would, but I want them to help for other reasons like, because they help everyone, or, they wanted to have a crack at all this Enby goodness! And yes, I also know that perhaps they DO help everyone. Or perhaps they were helping because they thought I was old (GASP! Rude!). Or perhaps they were helping because, you know, they like to show off their muscles. Or, maybe, they really did want to have a crack.
The predictable tangent:
I know. I know! But have you tried arguing with gender dysphoria? That son-of-a-bitch is a level 20 warlock hitting with the Mind Silver cantrip on deck! My level-1 Variant Aasimar Blood Hunter is a kick-ass mo-fo but with an armor class of 9, I’m just proud I’m still standing against gender dysphoria’s occasional 5d10 of psychic damage on casting Mental Prison! Thank goodness for my +2 intelligence saving throw modifier! And yes, I totally did check those warlock details on D&D Beyond (external link) because I do not want to piss off my fellow nerds. FYI — my character (my 4th created), Vallista, is still waiting for an adventuring party to join. Luckily, they are patient.
But back to the story!
The point is, yeah, gender dysphoria is a mighty, mighty BLEEP (enter whatever word you feel is appropriate) and sometimes, it’s so much bigger than me, but at the end of the day, I survive the battle and take a long-rest. Oh, yeah right, and gender dysphoria makes very little sense but it’s hard to kill!
So, the point of the point is that I get a dash of gender euphoria when an Uber driver lets me handle my own bags (even as I’m thinking, ‘rude’. Lol. I refer you back to the above nonsensical). I mean, I know that maybe they just don’t help anyone. Maybe they are just a giant douche-bucket, but like I’ve said before, when it comes to gender euphoria, we takes it where we can gets it.
Part 2 — Uber Drop Off
Part two of this episode begins when we arrived at my destination and… the Uber driver jumped out and practically ran to the back of their car to get my bag out for me.
Why?
WHY, I ask you!!!
Gender dysphoria hits when it hits (or rolls when it rolls). This time, it rolled a natural 20. But I can hardly be surprised. I’m pretty sure gender dysphoria is a cheating cheat from Cheatsville who cheats and has a d20 with ‘20’ on every face. My intelligence modifier didn’t hold up and the psychic damage crumbled me.
“… gender dysphoria is a cheating cheat from Cheatsville who cheats…”
I KNOW! Maybe my driver was just worried about their rating. Maybe when they picked me up, they were off with the pixies and didn’t even notice my suitcase until it was already in the back. Maybe they were checking my destination and just forgot to offer a hand. There are so many logical ways to make this ‘nothing’. But no, thanks to the 5d10 of psychic damage from gender dysphoria’s unprovoked attack (like, I hadn’t even rolled initiative, man!) my brain decides that somewhere on that 15-minute trip, the Uber driver decided I needed help (for whatever reason), or worse, they should help simply because they decided… I must be a woman.
Did the Uber driver NOT help when they arrived because they thought I was a dude? And then DID help me when they dropped me off because they thought I was a chick? I mean, they’re wrong either way. When they arrived, I was wearing a hoodie, a beanie, sunnies, and a face mask. On the trip, I spoke. My voice has dropped, a lot, but I still subconsciously raise it, especially when I meet strangers. Why? It was just one of the lessons I learned in performing femininity. I was told the character I was meant to play and I played it damn well. But, was the remnants of that character the reason this happened?
The Enby and the Uber — Epilogue
Congratulations for reading this far, and now perhaps you understand (if you didn’t already) how one tiny little thing, can make an enby’s head explode. Like, seriously! I get it! This is so much for something that was probably nothing, but gender dysphoria doesn’t respect boundaries. Hell, I didn’t even know I had gender dysphoria because it was just something that was part of my everyday life. I wrote about that previously and you can read it here:
I KNOW! OMG, I SO KNOW that this was a lot of unpacking for a one-minute event. The Uber driver didn’t help me with my bags. Then, they did. Done. That’s it. So what? There are so many reasons why that might of happened and most of them don’t matter. Because it’s not about that at all. What does matter is that moment of gender euphoria when they didn’t help. And that heartbreaking attack of gender dysphoria when they did.
So, what’s my big life lesson from this?
God damn it, I still care what other people think. Fuck that’s annoying!