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  • Intro

    I’ve been mistakenly called “he” or “sir” for as long as I can remember.

    I’ve thought a long time about how to tell the story of how this has shaped me. In the end, it’s too hard to describe the looks in the bathroom, the snickers, the turned heads, the confrontations, the fear. My shame.

    The effect, long term, has been profound. I wish to grow out of it, to grow out of the feeling of it.

    I never have, not really. It has gotten easier.

    I thought this year I would try documenting each instance. Where it has happened, what I looked like that day. Tell a part of the story each time.

    I don’t know what I might learn from this, if anything.

    { March, 2013: this experiment failed, as I soon realized that all the photos would be much the same, since I go to Lowe's a lot, and am nearly always called "sir" while there }
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