I really hate going to the doctor and it’s not just because of the cost. Ever since I got brave enough to ask my doctor for testosterone, my experience with them has been wildly different than every other medical experience in my life. I never had to argue with a doctor about the wrong prescription before. I had never been told by a nurse not to ask for care because it will “just be a headache.” And I surely didn’t have the awful experience I had this week getting my first mammogram. That’s code for I’m 40, y’all. 

I probably never would have gone at all, but my friend was diagnosed with breast cancer just a few months ago. Begrudgingly, I booked an appointment. It was in the afternoon on the first 60 degree day of the year here in Illinois. I was not excited, both for my own hormone generated perspiration but also for the waiting room. I imagined that a room full of people in peri and full blown menopause without deodorant might smell. You can’t wear deodorant. If there ever was a place to advertise for deodorant, this might be it. 

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long. The person who checked my ID and insurance card immediately grabbed a gown from a warmer (so fancy!) and started to take me back. Then, the other administrator stopped her. “You can’t take a man back there,” she said sternly. I looked at her then at the person trying to take me back who said, “they aren’t a man?” 

Again. “You are not taking a man back.” So, I chimed in to avoid continued embarrassment during this debate of my identity. I know I have a shaved head and some people get confused easily. “I’m a woman here for a mammogram,” I said, misgendering myself in hopes the conversation would end as quickly as possible. (If you’re new here, hi! I’m nonbinary. You can read my coming out story here.)

“He’s not going back there,” she responded. I was stunned into an awkward silence. For the last 5 years of my transition I’ve been worried that people would think I was always in the wrong place. I worried that if I went to the women’s restroom, they would think a man was there or vice versa. I was avoiding this part where I have to spell out something to a stranger that’s none of their business. But this was a whole new experience, telling someone and being called a liar. 

What It’s Like to Be Misgendered in Healthcare

There are times in my life where I wish I was a comedian and this was most certainly one. I’m confident I would have had a witty one liner and inspiration for my Netflix special. Instead, I returned to my seat in the waiting room steaming. She wasn’t going to let me go to my appointment and I knew yelling like I wanted to wasn’t going to help anything. Head down, I angrily texted my girlfriend. “They aren’t letting me go back because they think I’m a man.” She was ready to come down there and they all would have been sorry if she had. My girl is nice, but not if you mess with me. 

A few minutes later the person doing my procedure came out looking confused. “Kat,” she said with a questioning inflection at the end. “That’s me,” and back we went. No problem. I told her what happened and asked who I would report it to. I talked to the manager who gave me some line about “older generations.”  All I could do was stammer that I just need a conversation to happen because I don’t want this to ever happen to anyone else. No one should have to explain who they are in order to receive basic medical care.

I educate people on moments like these and still, nothing quite prepares me for the next time. I know it’ll happen to me again. Maybe not at that clinic or on that floor but in another healthcare setting. In another bathroom. At a restaurant. I stammer and shake, just praying maybe something will change. Maybe they’ll see me, apologize. 

But this year, the reactions have noticeably shifted. Sure, some folks still apologize for getting it wrong. My fear comes from the ones who devolve into anger. Frustration, as if I did something to them simply by existing.  I am so tired of it. Tired of worrying what other people see. How their perception might impact me. Where I can go pee. If it will happen again to someone not as strong as me. Maybe my next new thing should be comedy so I can have a more witty way of saying I’m tired of the ways this hurts.

What Healthcare Providers Need to Understand About Misgendering 

Misgendering in healthcare isn’t a small mistake. It creates fear, humiliation, and distrust in moments when patients are already vulnerable. If you work in a medical office or really anywhere that has front desk staff, here’s what needs to change to ensure this doesn’t happen to other people like me. 

• Train front desk staff on basic gender identity awareness. Intake and check-in are where the most harm happens. They should know simple ways to renavigate their bias on little things like the fact that short hair doesn’t mean you’re talking to a boy. Yes, I offer this training. Book a meeting to learn more about my session. 
• Never debate someone’s gender identity in a public waiting room. Seems simple enough but it’s worth communicating considering the situation I just had. There’s never a need to announce someone’s gender. If you want a basic primer to pronouns, you can get my version here.
• Create a private process to clarify records or documentation questions. “Hold on” and a quick check of the data could have been far less offensive in my specific scenario. 
• Don’t blame “older generations.” Harm isn’t less harmful because it’s familiar. Excuses aren’t how we bounce back from this moment. Education is. 

Healthcare should not require someone to misgender themselves to receive treatment. Remember: people still need care, even if their existence challenges your assumptions.