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So I went to fill up my Presto card, which is the rechargeable pass being rolled out to access Ottawa’s public transit system. The back of the card instructed me to go to prestocard.ca.

Once at the website, I was greeted with what’s pictured below. There was a spot to register your card, which I tried. However, the error message told me that the card and activation number on the card didn’t match their records. Odd. So then I tried to fill it up anonymously, but then was informed that mine wasn’t a valid PRESTO card number.

I assumed that it was a problem on their end. I ended up charging up the card in-person.

The next month, I noticed that there was an identical website that I was supposed to use. That all Ottawa riders are supposed to use. It’s not at prestocard.ca or www.prestocard.ca, but www2.prestocard.ca. Everything about it was otherwise the same. The main site was only for Toronto’s PRESTO system, irrespective of the municipality you were from.

This is exactly how you don’t want to design a website. If the card for Ottawa riders says to go to a website to fill up, and that website says that you can enter your card number here to fill up, you should be able to do just that.

If they want one website to serve both municipalities, then there should be a splash page or a clear indication for residents of each where to go. Since it’s the same system, the error I got should then have reflected the possibility of my using the site for the wrong locale. Better yet, there should have just been one website for everyone.

It also looks like they added the text “Ottawa Site” at the top of the main page too when you get there, which means you aren’t on the site for Ottawa.

This is definitively a design fail.

I stared at my cellphone. The phone number was there, I just had to press the icon of the phone to place the call. I couldn’t.

The second day I did it. I explained to the person on the other end that I had called about being able to get an assessment for hormone replacement therapy. They thought that this wasn’t the right extension, but that they’d find the individual I was trying to get to and have them call me. They then asked me for my number. I froze.

I couldn’t remember my own phone number. This had never happened. My old phone number came to mind. Was that my old one? My new one? I knew my email address. Could I give them that instead? They then read off her Caller ID and asked me if that was my number. It was. Thank goodness.

I got a call back. I was told that this was a new program, and that they’d call me next week to schedule an appointment with for the assessment. That was in May.

It doesn’t feel two months have passed.

I’ve seen the social support worker twice now. I have four more appointments to go before I can get a referral to an endocrinologist. I’m really grateful for the program that’s giving me these free appointments, because the other avenue of approaching my family doctor just wasn’t an option.

How far I’ve come, in so many ways. For those who have been around me during this time, especially those that just listened and opened up to me, I’d like to thank you. One of my greatest obstacles had been to overcome this feeling that what I was experiencing wasn’t real because it didn’t share the resolve of that narrative I heard over and over. You broke that perception down, and in doing so, made me feel a little less alone.

There are many unknowns that remain in me. My head is a mess of strong emotions and anecdotes, wishes and pains. I’ve nonetheless decided to go ahead with the process of acquiring hormone replacement therapy. To make that call, book the appointments. First out of fear of deep regret if I waited while my body further masculinized, and then out of a nascent sense of confidence.

The more time passes, the more I’m sure that that was the right thing to do. Having a future where my body becomes a part of me that helps me find joy, as opposed to being an impediment to that, is becoming viable. I don’t want to give the impression that everything is certain. It isn’t. But stories from those around me has given me strength to find myself, and I know that I won’t regret anything as I move forward.

So where does that leave you and me.

At this time, if I’m asked for my preferred pronouns, I answer they/them. I don’t correct people that use ‘he’. I don’t feel like either the trans or cis label fit me, jokingly referring to myself as gender fucked. You can use genderqueer. I would also caution against the erroneous assumption that my choice of labels diminishes the importance of transitioning for myself.

Finally, I want to thank everyone that’s shown me kindness and acceptance.

I’m a little weary of queer spaces.

I include Tumblr in that, I include Facebook groups in that, and I include real-world facilities and events. My own potlucks too.

To me, queer is not just a synonym for gay or trans. It’s a stance on bodily autonomy. It is a perpetual other-ness, existing in the space where that autonomy is infringed.

But queer spaces, and queerdom, are not the same. The queer spaces I’ve come to see are homogeneous. Overwhelmingly young. Androgynous. Vegan. Anti-oppression. Anarchist. Well educated, irrespective of formal education. Born in the same country. Fluent in English.

These like any are of course entirely legitimate forms of being. But step back, and when you see that this narrow expression consumes nearly the entirety of so-called queer spaces, then there is ample reason for concern.

It goes on, unquestioned. We parrot stories on ableism but I see now that it’s only to grant us the illusion of enlightenment, when in fact our own exclusion speaks for itself.

There are spaces for queers that are inclusive. They are harder to navigate, but that’s what it is to be among the diverse. Let’s stop fooling ourselves and calling things a queer space when they are anything but.