2.3

Professors, Basic Human Decency, and Emotional Trauma

Skipping so much context, I am estranged from my father. He was emotionally abusive to me growing up, and after being on and off with him for a few years, I stopped talking to him entirely in August.  The final chance I gave him was to have a conversation with my brother and I about how he's treated us for our entire lives. The two-hour conversation started and ended with the exact same sentence: "I don't know what I've done to make you two treat your father like this" (yes, in third person). The lack of an apology (besides maybe one "I'm sorry you feel that way," aka not a real apology) or any accountability at all got to me worse than anything he ever said to me growing up. The moment I realized he repeated himself, I said, "This conversation is over. We got nowhere," and drove off with my brother to Chili's to at least try to make my brother feel better. My brother is younger than me and still wants to believe that my father will eventually redeem himself, so they still see each other. The last time I saw him was in September when my mom had him and my brother (they're divorced if you're wondering) bring a TV from her house to my apartment. My mom hates this whole situation because her biological father was a deadbeat and doesn't want me to also not have a dad. I believe she sent him to my place as a final attempt to make us bond. I briefly thanked him and had him leave immediately after. I haven't spoken to him since. 

Despite the fact that having an estranged father is a big deal, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. It was a long time coming. I get a little sad when I see kids spending time with their dads, but that's about it. However, an incident today caused me to discover I've developed a pretty backwards trigger since giving up on my dad.

I have a really good relationship with a few of my professors, one of them being my audio theory lab professor. I've been taking labs with this professor since spring last year, where we hang out in the college's recording studios and learn how to mix and run sessions. The studios become pretty cramped when there are eight people per lab section, especially for four hours straight. Therefore, we've all been forced to get to know each other pretty well. We're probably way closer as a whole than any other major at the university because of this, which is how everyone, including me, has become pretty friendly with this professor. I even worked a gig with him over the summer where we and some of my other peers ran sound for a music festival out in New Bedford. We all hung out for a bit after that and just had a really great day together.

The single downside with this professor is that he tends to misgender me. I'm not upset with him over this because I've never told him my pronouns, as I'm not about to embarass the both of us and correct him in front of his other students / my friends. He does know that I have a different legal name because of the paycheck for the summer festival, but I don't expect him to know my pronouns from a pretty gender neutral name (we didn't talk about it, but the festival manager did give him my paycheck). I get a bit bummed when it happens strictly because I have gender dysphoria, and that's just how that thing works. I try not to show that it bothers me when he calls me a 'she' but I have a horrible poker face despite my best efforts. 

For more context, the dude is my dad's age, and the misgendering is absolutely not malicious. He's very outspoken about being left-wing and pro all things human rights. It's just common for Gen X-ers and older to not be used to pronoun stuff because people were less open about it when they were growing up. And I also wouldn't expect him to remember my pronouns if I said them because (I say this with only love in my heart) he is horrible at remembering personal info about everyone he meets. I think he only has my name down because of the gig, since he tends to change so many people's names to Damnit and Fuck when he can't find the attendance sheet. He's also half convinced that my classmate Ben's name is actually Rich, and we all just go along with it because it's really funny.

I don't know what changed today. He must've recently realized that everyone else in class refers to me as a dude while he doesn't. Me and him were setting a bass amp DI up down the tracking room's halls alone when he totally stopped what he was doing and was like "by the way, I'm so sorry about the pronouns. I noticed myself fucking up today and I feel terrible about it," and wanted me to know that I have his full support and that he's entirely for me "living my truth." He also added that he didn't correct himself when we were upstairs with everyone (getting our mics for the session) because he knows it's more embarrassing when people do that. 

This conversation right here is the trigger. You're probably thinking, "He's going out of his way to genuinely apologize to you over something that you never expected or needed an apology for. Why are you upset?" This is all I wanted my dad to do. Ever. Over much more serious and traumatizing things that I demanded an apology for. It's super surreal to realize that your professor gives more of a shit about your wellbeing than someone you share half your DNA with. I managed to keep myself together to finish the conversation with my professor, pretending that tears weren't welling up as I was assuring him that I wasn't upset with him. I eventually went to go 'look for another cable' and had to half-run across the building to the lobby's single bathroom to sob for a while (which the folks in the lobby absolutely heard). I'm kinda worried that he noticed I was about to cry, and thinks that it's his fault when it really isn't. 

It's so insane when you leave assholes behind and have decent people as friends, peers, and mentors. You realize that this was how people are always supposed to treat each other. 

There's really no satisfying conclusion to this post. I just think this is a really bizarre and sad yet interesting trigger to have. I wish so horribly that my father was a good man and that I didn't cry whenever someone his age treats me like I'm worth something. But that's just how it is and I'm sure I'll learn to handle these emotions better over time.