In a typical workday, I interact with eighty to one hundred and twenty people. When I ring up their total, most will say nothing, about forty of them will call me \u201csir,\u201d four call my by name, and one calls me \u201cfaggot.\u201d They will say, \u201cThank you.\u201d When I had them their change, I will tell them, \u201cHave a nice day!\u201d I am paid to do this. It\u2019s all part of the job.<\/p>\n
One summer day, a man came in while I was stocking the shelves, and I recognized him. He had white, stringy hair to pair with his pale, old skin, and a dark green jacket to contrast his blue eyes. I thought him something of a rebel-character. The first time I saw him, it was three years ago. He wore black, fingerless gloves and bought seventy-two pairs of women\u2019s pantyhose for a grand total of $74.88. He talked relentlessly of the eighties, saying, \u201cWe needed another decade like the eighties,\u201d and how, \u201cPeople needed to learn how to love again, there\u2019s too much hate right now.\u201d Years later, he wore the same outfit, the same jacket, the same hair, and the same gloves. The difference being the pandemic.<\/p>\n
He had burst into the store. Immediately I saw his face. My co-worker did too, and she quickly told him about the store mask policy. He remained unfixed and began telling her off. I noticed this and rejoined my co-worker in reiterating the mask policy. He turned from her and responded to me in a shout, finishing with \u201cI\u2019ll see you in court! But that\u2019s only if I don\u2019t rip your head off and shove it up your faggot ass first!\u201d At this, a crowd began to gather. The man probably didn\u2019t enjoy the attention, because he looked around and ran out of the store. As I checked out the remaining customers, they started saying, \u201cThank you, Sir\u201d and \u201cNobody should have to deal with that.\u201d<\/p>\n
But I\u2019m not a \u201cSir,\u201d and so I\u2019d reply, \u201cIt\u2019s all part of the job.\u201d<\/p>\n
This memory brings me to Walt Whitman\u2019s \u201cSong of Myself,\u201d where he states, \u201c\u201cDo I contradict myself? \/ Very well then\u2026. I contradict myself; \/ I am large\u2026. I contain multitudes\u201d (53). Yet, while Whitman makes this statement in celebration, I contend that the ways in which we \u201ccontain multitudes\u201d is more nuanced. Imbedded within these multitudes are forces of both privilege and <\/em>oppression.<\/p>\n In the rural town where I work, heteronormativity is heavily enforced. As a lower-income, queer individual, this means being called \u201cSir\u201d as compensation for being called \u201cfaggot.\u201d \u201cSir\u201d is supposedly a sign of high-status, nobility, and class, whereas my preferred labels and pronouns are viewed with contempt. This paradoxically positions \u201cSir\u201d and my preferred labels both as a form of special treatment. The customers use \u201cSir\u201d to indicate respect yet insisting that they use anything else would come off as disrespectful to them. I endanger their sense of heteronormativity, and so at work, I bite my tongue. For eight hours, I am<\/em> their \u201cSir.\u201d And it\u2019s all part of the job.<\/p>\n Doubtless, the silencing of identity constitutes a form of oppression. Getting yelled at about ripping heads off and shoving them wherever certainly constitutes violence. Yet, being able to pass as heteronormative, and maintain a job which demands I act as such, is a privilege which not every queer person has. Thus, I\u2019m able to contain both hostility and opportunity. And as I\u2019m called \u201cSir,\u201d I\u2019m able to sneer behind my mask and think how I\u2019m able to be their Sir<\/em> and my Queer<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In a typical workday, I interact with eighty to one hundred and twenty people. When I ring up their total, most will say nothing, about forty of them will call me \u201csir,\u201d four call my by name, and one calls me \u201cfaggot.\u201d They will say, \u201cThank you.\u201d When I had them their change, I will … Continue reading \u201cThank you, Sir\u201d<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4220,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[169398],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-632","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2021-blog-post"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/632","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4220"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=632"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/632\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=632"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=632"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.dickinson.edu\/lgbtqhistoryandliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=632"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}