Getting Ma’amed

It happens to us all at one time or another. We’re out and about enfemme and someone will refer to you as “ma’am.” How do you take that? The dictionary defines “madam” as the term you use when you’re speaking to a lady. The English language tends to lose letters and replace them with apostrophes so it’s become “ma’am.” But the connotation of “ma’am” leans toward an older, most often married lady. What to think? Our correspondent Gina Vizavi gives us her take on the subject in Getting Ma’amed.

There’s nothing that makes my day more than getting Ma’amed.

As much as we might like to rail against the dichotomy of gender in which we live, the language lends itself to acknowledging people on the basis of their gender, and when I get “ma’amed” it is wonderful until the person sees their “mistake” and apologizes. After all what regular guy wouldn’t be offended? Back in the sixties that was a put-down to try and get errant long-haired lads to shear their locks.

I usually respond that it’s no big deal, or “I take that as a compliment,” which is always good for a reaction, especially from women.

Generally it’s a clerk seeing me out the corner of their eye in a checkout line, and being on automatic pilot, saying, “thank-you ma’am.” But there’s a special thrill when the waitress says, “And what will you ladies have?”

Gina in the process of getting “ma’amed.”

So after I started letting my hair grow out about a dozen years ago, I’ve gotten used to being perceived, at least tangentially as female. I started plucking my eyebrows but other than that I don’t wear jewelry or makeup. And while I have started incorporating women’s shorts and tops into my regular wardrobe, they are at best androgynous. I guess that’s why being ma’amed such a thrill and in some small way validating as being considered just “one of the girls.”

I don’t know if it’s governed by cycles of the moon but I can go weeks without being ma’amed and then have it happen several times in one day. Which brings me to the highlight of my summer vacation.

While touring Michigan’s Upper Peninsula I stopped at a rest area and put my hair in a pony tail and was getting washed up when a man standing at the doorway said to me, “You know this is the MEN’S ROOM! Maybe it was the pink shorts, but it was a great way to get “ma’amed!”

Category: Transgender Opinion