Goodbye W.M.P., Hello Wonder Woman!

Goodbye W.M.P., White Male Privilege. One of the things my son asked me a while back was would I miss the W.M.P. I didn’t remember ever having it, so I figured I wouldn’t miss it. Now that I’m my real self, I finally understand about W.M.P. Many things I did before I came out and began living honestly, I now occasionally get asked if I’m doing them for a man.

Just because I now prefer wearing dresses, doesn’t mean I’ve lost all of my previous interests, talents or tasks. Yes, I am married to a beautiful, sexy ciswoman and I love her dearly. We don’t need to be rescued, taken care of and are not helpless. My bride raised three children single-highhandedly, worked two jobs and turned out three wonderful human beings. The last thing she needs is rescued. What we both need and have is a loving, caring, equal partnership.

I still need to keep my old house from falling down around our ears. This means frequent, and enjoyable, trips to our favorite stores, Home Depot or Lowes. When we get asked, “What are you building?” We gladly respond with a deck, kitchen remodel, new bath, or any other project. Most of the time, the folks in the orange aprons are quick to help, give advice or assist in loading our cart. Occasionally, mostly from the older male clerks, we’ll get asked who’s helping us, a husband or brother. We in no uncertain terms let them know we don’t need any help.

“Gosh, what is that doohickey?” Not how Cate handles repairs.

I went into the auto parts store last fall. I was straight from work, so I had on a dress, low heels and makeup. I walked up to the counter as I had most of my life and asked the guy for an alternator. He said, “If that’s not the right one, have your husband return it.” I slowly turned and maybe a bit to loudly exclaimed, “I don’t have a husband and I’m not sure my wife has installed one before, so ‘I got this!’” Problem solved.

The other day I was at the grocery store and the young man bagging groceries asked if he could take the bags to my car. I told him he may. He was young, cute and a bit shy. When we got to the parking lot, there sat my Dodge Ram 1500 with the hemi. It’s a bit tall, but heels help nicely getting in. He hefted the sacks into the back seat and said, “That’s a lot a truck.” I turned to him, looked him in the eye, and said, “I like them big.” My, but that boy could blush! I hiked up my dress and pulled myself up into the driver’s seat. He was beating a hasty retreat.

It’s been a while since I’ve had W.M.P. rubbed in my face. Maybe it’s because I’ve had to set a few men straight. Anyway, when I go out, I’m channeling my inner Wonder Woman. I may not have her figure, but I do have her spirit. Fight on, sisters!

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Tags: featured, Identity, opinion, sexism, Transgender

Category: Transgender Body & Soul