performing gender and other oddities

My first time at the World Cup Fan Mile. We thought it would be a little break to our mild version of sightseeing. We thought we could catch some of the Ghana game. Apparently FIFA can’t afford to shell out a subscription to Premiere for the fans because only the Italy game was playing on all 4 big screens.

Before we were allowed in, we had to go through a security check. One line for the boys; two lines for the girls which merged into one.  Like public bathroom lines, the boys’ line went a whole lot faster so us girls had time to check out the surroundings. I was surprised to see that out of the three people doing the pat-downs for women one of them was a man.

It seemed to pretty much defeat the purpose of separating the lines if we had to get checked by a man. Would a Muslim woman have to go through the security check with a man to get into the fan area? I asked the another male security guard standing nearby if we could go through the security check with one of the woman agents and not the man.

At first he didn’t understand. Then he said, "That’s a woman." I looked at the man and looked back at the other man really confused. I thought he was making an unfortunate joke but he repeated to me that the "man" was a woman. To me, it would have been the same thing if he had told me he was a woman. There were no identifiable feminine characteristics on this person I thought was a man. I was only standing a foot away.

Ich hab’ kein Bock mehr! I felt a little bit embarrassed at that point because it probably happened often throughout the day.   How do you not discriminate against an androgynous person applying for job that requires you to perform gender in an essential way? She was hired for her biological gender but was hindered in doing her job by not performing it. I think she should have been on the men’s side. I wonder if they would have believed me if I said I was a man.

more examples from yesterday’s oddities:

two italians backing up in a car on a major street. one had a map
unfolded. they looked like they wanted directions. requisite intro
convo with italians: italiano? no francese? ok let’s go. they didn’t
want directions. they were trying to scam us into buying some fashion
samples or something. we had a good chat about new orleans and katrina
though.

we just wanted some noodles. as we are checking out the menu, a
police officer comes in and looks at us and asks if that’s our truck
outside? what? that truck? no it’s not our truck. i know the truck said
black on it and we were all black but i know we did not look like all
three of us had just gotten out of a tractor trailer to buy some
noodles.

3 Comments

  1. Mr. Brother said,

    Tuesday 27 June 2006 at 11:37 am

    Remember the brouhaha over TSA pat-downs in the States? Globetrotting Americanistas were so offended at having male airport personnel run a palm betwixt their bosom to check for box-cutters that the TSA implemented a “Request a Female Frisker and Be Molested in A Private Tent” policy. It was a smashing success. The problem, as far as I saw it, was that, like much contemporary American equality, it only applied to women. Which is unjust, because it’s not like dudes want a burly male getting frisky with their potentially weapon-encompassing cavities. So I wrote the TSA an e-mail proclaiming the inalienable right, as a dude, to demand a female frisker if I was to be frisked en route to Tripoli. But now that I read on your blog there are dude-looking female friskers, I think I might be a little alienated from that right. *censored*

  2. sattva said,

    Wednesday 28 June 2006 at 8:41 am

    get a blog lol

  3. Mr. Brother said,

    Monday 3 July 2006 at 8:31 am

    hahahaha. wow. censored. ouch.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: