Masking, Passing, and Working While Trans and Autistic
We’re among the most underemployed. We shouldn’t be, but there’s still a long road to inclusion.
[TW: mental health and suicide]
Once, I worked at a dry cleaner.
Many things about the job I liked: being able to feel the different fabrics, and eventually tell them apart just by feel. Sorting clothes for delivery. The evenings, when the machines turn off and it was quiet.
Still I felt like a shell of myself at the end of the days. I was overwhelmed, and exhausted, and stressed: too many things were becoming too much.
Some of the people there were nice. One, in particular, was the only one I opened up to — my mentor, in a way.
At one point I didn’t see any other way out and contemplated suicide — because how could it get any easier, when things had been so hard for so long?
Masking, Passing, and Other Things
Disabled people shouldn’t be berated for masking.
masking măs′kĭng
n. A piece of theatrical scenery used to conceal a part of the stage from the audience. (from The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition.)
Masking is a problematic concept and practice, but for many the onus of it is survival — needing to fit in somewhere to be safe, physically or mentally.
Trans people might try to pass for similar reasons; many also just want to be seen as the gender they are. Trans people are allowed that. We’re allowed vanity at times too if we want it.
The concept is (very) problematic: Your gender doesn’t depend on how you look or what you wear, and it reinforces some bad takes and stereotypes. But the motivation at least is understandable at times.
We’re not at a place where we can act like these problems don’t exist, or that we can tell people, “Just be yourself! Don’t care what other people think!” in every situation. Transphobic attacks in particular are still a major problem.
Unfortunately, you have to care sometimes.
I really shouldn’t care less, but I (sometimes) do.
I can be pretty good at it, sometimes; at least I think I am. It’s something I’ve had a lifetime of practice for. In public I’m still incredibly conscious about everything from facial expressions to posture to how I’m walking or my speech.
Being good at masking is not necessarily a Good Thing though.
When Masking Doesn’t Work
It’s not always easy to keep it up.
At the end of the day, in particular I become a lot more sensitive; when I’m tired, physically or mentally or emotionally the front will begin to drop.
Sometimes I will shut down and become mute for a few seconds, a minute, thirty minutes, longer if it’s really bad, and a lot of things are going on very close and very loud. Putting together words can be hard; I run through conversations in my head before I have them, or write a script on my phone.
I was taught to mask: by the world, by people in my life.
I was taught to disregard my own needs and limits and care more about what other people want.
I was taught to look them in the eye (very important) and firmly shake their hand. I was taught not to ask for too much.
When it doesn’t work (which is coincidentally true at almost every job interview I’ve been to) it can cause problems. When it does work it will almost inevitably still cause problems later on, when it gets to fatiguing to maintain.
Disabled people shouldn’t be afraid to simply exist in this world with different needs and ways of communication, or limits that other people don’t have. We shouldn’t feel afraid to disclose that we’re autistic, or have PTSD, or ask for accommodations that we need.
There are laws meant to protect from discrimination, but misinformation has existed for a long time. Many people are completely uninformed, and trans and disabled people are still some of the most underemployed.
Being non-binary, as well, makes a lot of things harder. Just recently I tried to sign up for a popular freelancing platform, but was informed by customer support that I would have to work under my deadname or come back after I can legally change my name (a long, expensive process).
Applying for any job, in most places, you’ll have to disclose your legal name at some point, somewhere. Whether you pass doesn’t matter. In places where public attitudes aren’t “great” (like in parts of the south) it’s more likely that someone will be biased against you when choosing whom to hire.
Reasons like this are why some of the statistics look grim.
We all live in the same world; all of us are different, and can’t be put into boxes or told to do this, and smile, and not ask for too much if it gets to be too difficult.
I’m tired of it
What We Can Do
If support was in place — for accommodations, to allow trans people to access support and care and change their name more easily, many of these things wouldn’t be a problem.
On an economic and business standpoint, as well, it makes sense — happier people do better work. People that feel like an unfathomable weight is over them won’t do great work, probably.
Also, more happy people in the world is generally a good thing.
Fear is at the root of the problem. This fear can be a physical, even unconscious reaction to things different from the norm. Pity, as well: relief that that they’re not like them, the person with limited mobility, or the deaf person, or the developmentally disabled person (hi).
Just looking at things with a more open mind and with compassion would solve a lot of problems. As for myself, I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want to be a token or looked at like I’m something else entirely.
I just want to be me.
I just want to be happy (and I’m getting there).
