Q: What is the formula for a line and have you ever followed it?

A:
You are calling me by my names and you say:
Missy.
Missy Moe.
Moe.
Melissa.
M’lyssa.
Mel.
Ms. Tolbert.
Tigercakes.
(sir?) (ma’am?) (ma’am.) (sir.)
Mr. Cakes.
Tiger.
TC.

My students call me Mister. Mister what? No direct address. Just Mister. The polo in the front. The queeny guy whose fingers flail at the slightest excitement.

My students think I am a gay man. They unconsciously check list:


• ✓ Smiles a lot.
• ✓ High voice. Akin to lollipop gang or, possibly, helium-induced.
• ✓ Thin-ish
• ✓ Poet
• ✓ Attentive to hair and clothes (his own) (though he has been known to comment on the hair and clothes of others).
• ✓ Never mentions “girlfriend.” Uses words like “partner” instead.
• ✓ Lack of hetero-normative competition/posturing.
• ✓ Smooth faced, almost boyish, no shadow, perplexing sprout of goatee.
• ✓ Excited about art, writing, ideas. Almost giddy.
• ✓ The laptop on the desk is pink.

My students are not right. And they are not wrong.

My mother used to say this about men with any feminine characteristic not consciously and/or rigidly oppressed: “If he’s not gay, he sure is missing a good opportunity.”

It is possible that I am transitioning simply because I refuse to miss a good opportunity.

A refusal, perhaps, to be missed.