A stranger’s question to my 7-year-old left me furious

I was doing the usual school run along the riverside with my seven-year-old in hand when we came across a group of men day-drinking.

Suddenly, one of the men caught my kid’s attention with a question: ‘Is that your mum or your dad?’

That. He meant me.

My child replied: ‘He’s not my mum or dad, he’s Papa.’

In my family, my partner and I are both trans and non-binary. Our child calls my trans feminine partner Daddy, because it’s comfortable for the time being. I chose ‘Papa’ because it feels a bit like me, masculine yet soft.

I don’t have a fixed gender identity, and think of myself with multiple pronouns – they, he, she. But if any term makes me feel wrong inside, it’s being called ‘that’.

I added nothing to my child’s response, but waited and watched.

The man simply laughed, red-faced and swaggering in a way that made me suspect he was drunk. 

My child ended up walking off to play with a friend nearby, and I stayed with her, worried for her safety. 

With the frustrating clarity that comes with hindsight, I almost wished I’d told him that if he wanted to question anyone, he could ask me and leave my kid out of it. But I’m not ignorant to the fact that answering back this way could have exposed us both to further abuse. 

In the aftermath, I was honest with my child. She’d seen I was angry and needed my reassurance that I wasn’t angry with her. 

I told her she’d been manipulated and that’s why I was angry. Then she got upset that she hadn’t realised the question was supposed to hurt me, when she shouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place. 

I made sure she knew that, too. That anyone who treats a child that way, to make another adult feel small, is being cowardly. 

That’s all it comes down to. A fully grown man, manipulating a kid’s openness with questions that feel innocent, if you don’t know their hidden meanings. 

The thing is, I look ‘like a man’ – if a little short and slight with small hands, feminine movements and mannerisms. Maybe it’s something in the way my face has kept a softness, despite my three years on testosterone, that sets off certain people’s suspicions.

But I’m pretty sure I ‘look trans’, or at least visibly queer to many strangers. 

My femininity comes naturally and comfortably to me. It’s part of my non-binary identity, and I don’t tend to hide it. So I stand out where I live in the East Midlands, and don’t much blame people for looking. 

But I also find it impossible to suppress my fear when I’m confronted with people’s transphobia. When it comes from masculine cisgender men, I feel my vulnerability. Internalised shame takes over. 

I feel this fear almost all the time, at least at a low level when I’m out in public. It’s worse now I know there are a few people who might be out to bully me. 

It’s happened again since – with the same group of men day-drinking along the river. One of them reached across the path to wave an arm in front of me and ask again, ‘Are you a man or a woman?’

I ignored it. I might be afraid, but I also know I don’t owe anyone with bad-faith questions any of my time. 

Whenever my child sees the man who used her to get to me, she recognises him and tells me: ‘That’s the man who was mean to you’. She’s forced to remember how he belittled both of us. 

I wonder if that man spares us a second thought. I wonder if he remembers at all. 

I think, in a way, these men want reassurance, too. They don’t know what I am – on my own or to my child – and perhaps that makes them uncomfortable. 

But if they knew I was non-binary, I don’t think it would change much. Their tone, as if they’re performing for each other, makes it feel like the way transphobes ‘just ask questions’ to try and undermine trans+ (anyone who doesn’t identify as cisgender) identities. 

And it’s easier to abuse a child’s agency than an adult’s.

At the end of the day, I used the incident involving my kid as a teachable moment – to tell her I likely have far more pride in myself than anyone who’d rather be a bully than keep their fear to themselves. 

My kid has the right to be comfortable and confident being herself. As a trans person and parent, I only feel a keener need to show her this. 

I’ll keep on being the best example I can to her. When I’m with her, my duty is to keep her safe, but allow her freedom and self-expression. 

I don’t want her to learn that she needs to be on an anxious high alert all the time, as I did from bullies as a child.

Above all, I don’t want her to think petty people have a claim on her happiness, or lose faith in the kindness of most strangers. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing James.Besanvalle@metro.co.uk. 

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