Everyone thinks I’m gay.

It’s true.

I keep wondering what it is, exactly.

I mean, they aren’t mostly wrong. And it isn’t bad. I’m not a damn homophobe. I’m just mostly straight.

It’s just funny to me. Interesting, even. Like my friend who is a total grade-A lesbian and everyone thinks she’s straight because she’s femme.

The guys who came to do some work in the street didn’t get it when they asked if her husband was home and she hesitated (and, knowing her, probably rolled her sassy eyes) and said, “uh…no?”

They corrected themselves.

“Your…boyfriend?”

And they still didn’t pick up the fact that she was queer from the P-town shirt she was wearing.

We swap stories like this and snicker (between sobs) about the ways people like to put us, and others, in small boxes with neatly printed labels. Even when we try to share more about who we actually are, they just don’t pick up on it. Many people don’t think outside the binary of sexuality of male or female, gay or straight and because most people don’t listen, they aren’t able to pick up on subtle or not-so-subtle cues and clues.

I think about this a lot on behalf of my clients and generally from my own experience in the world. As a mostly-straight transgender person, I sit squarely in the middle of the gender identity and sexual orientation spectrums.

I’ve mostly dated women but if I met a man I loved and was attracted to, hey, game on.

I’m small. My face is slight. I have maybe 10 whiskers. OK, 20. My hair is neatly cut on the regular and my clothes are intentionally put together. I do this because I consider myself a professional and since I work for myself, I’m never “off the clock”. I never know when I will meet someone who is looking for a coach or motivational speaker for their place of employment.

Because I was socialized female for three and half decades, my speech patterns and physical gestures often look and sound female. From my own personal development and because it’s what I do for work, I try not to interrupt people because it’s rude and really annoying. I defer in conversation. I hesitate before making assumptions and generalizations whereas most men trample over people in conversation. To be fair, some women do this, too.

I can only suppose for these and probably other reasons, people assume I’m gay when they meet me.

And on National Coming Out Day, it gives me great pride and pleasure to say with every fiber in my being that I don’t care. I’ve taken years of intentional work to know myself inside and out and I feel clear about who I am and how I feel and take no threat or offensive.

And I wish the same for others, particularly people who are closeted or still in denial about who they truly are.

Because I know how horrible it felt to live in a body and identity that felt inaccurate. People misidentifying my sexual orientation isn’t anything compared to the misalignment I felt prior to my transition. There are days I’m misgendered still, but they are few and far between. Even when they happen, I feel less reactive.

Because I’ve come to understand that we have limited control over who we are and how the world sees us. The best we can do and the most we can hope for is to find our truth as best we know it and search deeper still to reveal blind spots until we come to a place of unshakable confidence.

On National Coming Day, that’s my aspiration.

Even when everyone thinks I’m gay.