Flying is challenging if you are trans

I have done enough of traveling in my life to know that I hate airport security checkpoints. Traffic to airport. Check-in kiosks. Printing boarding pass. Luggage drop. Stamps here and there. All good. Then security clearance. I was waiting in line to get checked at the Yangon international airport (Myanmar). Two sides. Two scanners. Two wooden planks to step on. Two security officers, male and female. I put every possession on the conveyor belt and always started to feel like something was pressing on my chest. My palms got sweaty. My breathing got heavy. I reluctantly made my way through the scanner, praying nobody asked me this fucking question, “is this one a boy or a girl?” That was always followed by those eyes intensely scanning up and down my body. Sometimes, I was pushed to the male side and other times to female side (if they happened to check my passport) for the pat-down. But there was so much confusion. I just didn’t give a damn about whose hands touching my body to check if I carry some bomb. But those judging eyes and chuckles filled with mockery were hard to ignore. I still felt them on me as I walked out of the security area. Things just can’t go right for trans men.

Whenever I see two female officers checking both genders, I feel so happy. No reason to be judged. No confusion on which side to go to. No explanation to be done. I could just breeze through it like any other passenger whose appearance complies with the ID like a round peg in a round hole.

One time, I was flying to Brazil from Singapore with five transits in the middle. And more than 10 security checkpoints! 10! At every transit, there were at least two security checkpoints. I was even thinking if I had a wig on me right now, I could have proceeded to these checkpoints confidently at the female side. But I had no wig and looked like a male. I carefully wore one layer of t-shirt and sweatpants like I had nothing to hide. Beijing officers were notorious for the thorough pat-down. So I tried to purge anything that would beep the detector as early as possible except money. But damn coins stuck at bottom corners of my backpacks! The security officers automatically assumed I were a biological male without looking at my passport and continued to search each inch of my body, inside my luggage. They seemed pleased to get a pouch full of coins.

If luck was not with me, I was randomly spotted for “extra screening” on route to the United States or Europe because it could be that I looked extra suspicious near security checkpoints. Little did they know it was all because of my fear of being judged for transgender-ness than whatever things they thought I might smuggle across.

Sometimes, it could be something I wore. The scanner machines in airports like JFK and Washington Dulles detected body contours and TSA officers pressed either male or female button for further pat-down. My body was not conforming to the gender guidelines set for the scanner. So I got misgender. And trust me these officers always go for the chest and crotch!

India airport security practices are the worst of all in my experience. At Mumbai airport, there was a distinctive separation between male and female checkpoints and two long queues. Female side had a small screening box hidden behind curtains for thorough inspection for women with saree. I was tired of the flight. I was slowly dragging my feet towards the queues and decided to just go inside female zone just because my official gender on my passport was (and is) female (easier to explain if questions were raised). At about two steps forward, I felt a strong grab on my left arm and an abrupt pull towards the male zone by a security guard. He looked angry, pointed at the “female” sign and escorted me to one of the lanes in male zone. My heart sank as I got sandwiched between numerous Indian males eager to make it to their respective domestic flights. Too late to explain. Too awkward to even try. So I moved on. As I finally walked through the security scanner and handed my passport to the officer, I prayed that he would not look inside. I kept peeking at him while anxiously waiting for an opportunity to take my passport back as swiftly as possible. When the opportunity came, I grabbed my luggage, belt, shoes and passport to run far far away from the checkpoint.

I don’t know how many more airports I would check in and how many more checkpoints I have to cross. It would always be challenging for me as long as I travel.

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