The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1797 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I wasn’t sure I understood how I could be prejudiced against my own kind, because that was how it seemed to me and I felt I needed some time to think–but in this household it’s impossible to find or acquire much time. Because I’ve sort of made myself irreplaceable, it’s even harder for me to escape than anyone else. The fact that I’m also an adult, means I probably have a higher sense of responsibility, but doesn’t guarantee it.

By dint of some tough horse-trading with Stella, I managed to get an hour to have a bike ride. Of course I had offspring wanting to come as well, but I promised them a ride later or tomorrow, for now I wanted to be alone and unreachable for an hour. I had my mobile, but it was switched off.

I headed off to the hills–in this case, up towards the golf course and Portsdown hill. It took me half an hour and I was breathing hard and sweating when I sat myself down and took a swig from my water bottle. Posh cyclists have bidons, I just had a bottle of mineral water I’d grabbed on the way out, but it was good to drink and rehydrate myself.

I’d been unconsciously running the computer while I cycled so I probably had some data to download into my consciousness. Why was I prejudiced to other transgender types?

I wasn’t, I helped them where I could, having been favoured by nature to make a reasonable cross over the sexes to be acceptable to most people. I won’t say I was completely foolproof, but pretty close to it from casual examination. It was in the data available in various places that made it easily possible–but that was the same for lots of people with something to either hide or who wished not to draw attention to specific objects or events. In my case I was more or less fireproof–those who needed to know did and were accepting of it.

So why did I think I was prejudiced? Because of the cross over of sex and identity. Identity is such a huge item to everyone and everything impinges upon it, we are a result of genetics, environment, nurture, culture and host of other influences. Someone coming to terms with gender identity problems might have very different experiences of family and friends were it to happen in strongly religious environment than in a more secular one. Depending upon so many variables, either could be very a supportive or obstructive experience. The religious lot might be unhelpful fundies or very loving and sympathetic and so on.

Sex and gender are part of our identities, as is sexual orientation but they are not us, just part of the pie–how big a part is variable as well. I see myself as a heterosexual female now, but in the beginning, I saw myself as wanting to be female but not considering my sexual orientation–it was a stage too far–or then it was. I accept that others might have a very different experience or need.

So I wasn’t prejudice or was I? This whole issue had boiled up because I’d had a stupid dream which caused me to see Simon cross-dressing and it worried me. In any relationship, I needed clear role markers–I was the defined female and my partner would be the male. It’s a pretty common situation I suspect and possibly why some wives or girlfriends have problems remaining with previously male partners who want to enter some of their territory either partly or completely, occasionally or permanently. I’d have sympathy with that concern because that’s one I share.

So what causes that to happen? I don’t know, the obvious answer is insecurity, which for new women, is more understandable than for those who’ve had a whole lifetime to get used to themselves. However, one thing I’ve noticed in both male and female students and to an extent in my children is a sense of insecurity, or low self esteem, low confidence. We do get the opposite occasionally, someone so brimming with confidence, they’re either deluded or acting, or perhaps the very rare bird who really does have total self belief. I can’t say I’ve ever met a real one and I’m not sure I want to. I have my own foibles and they get in my way, so being left bobbing in the wake of a total self believer might prove very uncomfortable.

Was I prejudiced to them? No simply frightened of someone so different from everyone else.

I finished my drink and dropped the bottle in a waste bin, climbing back on my bike I was able to confirm that I wasn’t prejudiced to anyone except perhaps those who were intolerant of me or others who might be outside the commonplace. I had no problems with other transgender or whatever variation that one could consider, except that I don’t fancy them which might be my own insecurity.

Secure that I wasn’t pointing fingers at anyone who didn’t start it first, I began to ride home feeling much happier with myself. I could now direct my attention to my riding and it’s deficiencies due to a lack of practice. I wasn’t as fit as I’d been and no matter how much I promised myself I’d set aside time to do this or that exercise, ride or get on the turbo, I knew that life would offer distractions or obstacles because this was the pattern of the past.

Today was no exception, coming down Copnor Road back into Portsmouth proper, a bus came past very close, about two coats of paint away, which made me wobble just a little and this was followed by an aggressive driver in a 4x4, who beeped and swore at me–presumably for breathing.

The traffic came to a standstill and I came level with him, riding down the middle of the road–I was likely to be first away, too.

He saw me coming and tried to manoeuvre outwards to block my progress or force me into the opposite carriageway and thus in danger of being hit by another vehicle.

A noisy altercation took place, with him swearing at me implying that I shouldn’t be there in the first place–I suspect he didn’t like me very much, possibly because I was a cyclist and moving through the traffic more quickly than he was, possibly because I was a woman–his abuse tended to include lots of bitch and cow references. I suppose he could have been a veterinarian though it was unlikely, he was too ignorant.

When I replied, as I thought, sensibly to his nonsensical accusations, he began to get very angry. So far, apart from riding a bicycle in a law abiding manner, I’d done nothing–certainly nothing to light his blue touch paper. I tried to reason with him and he became more angry. I decided to cut my losses and ride on by which time the traffic had moved enough for him to pull out of the traffic and pursue me, him driving down the broken white line separating the carriageways. As the traffic was now moving more freely, it was with some difficulty that I managed to pull between two moving cars and turn down a side road. The jeep tried to follow and I heard a crunching of metal and glass. I decided not to hang around and see what happened but to get off home–I was that scared.

I told Simon what had happened and he was on the phone to the police minutes later while Sammi made me some tea, which I couldn’t drink for a few minutes my hands were shaking too much to hold it still.

“They’re sending someone over to take a statement, I told them you were too shaken up to go to them.”

I thanked him and went up to shower and have a little cry.