I am an imposter. Or, at least, I certainly feel like one. Every day of my life, people around me (arguably the ones that are most important to me) take me to be something that I’m not. According to Eisner (2013), “Passing usually means being perceived by others as a member of the dominant group” (102). More specific “versions” of passing can be passing by intention or passing by default (Eisner, 103). Passing can come in many forms for many different aspects of someone’s identity; whether that be their race, gender, sexuality, or their status as a disabled or non-disabled person. A lot of the time, people with “invisible” disabilities are assumed to be non-disabled as a default. “Invisible” disabilities can include conditions like chronic pain, mental illness, or any kind of disability that’s not immediately obvious to t
...he casual onlooker. Passing can mean many things for many different people, and can perpetuate feelings of guilt, feelings of pride, or any emotion in between.
There’s an important distinction to be made between different kinds of passing: according to Eisner, you can be willingly passing, which is done with intention, and coercive passing, which is done more passively (103). I’ve been coercively passing for most of my life; first, as someone assumed to be white because of my (relatively) light complexion, and then as a straight woman because of my monogamous relationship with a cis man. I’ll discuss the racial aspect of my mistaken identity first: my presumed whiteness that’s assigned to me by (usually white) outsiders. Although I used to unrelentingly correct people who assumed I was white because of how light my skin was (relativ
to other Filipinx people), it got to a point where I stopped correcting people because I got tired of it- and I honestly just didn’t care as much anymore. One specific occurrence that comes to mind is a story from high school. I walked into my first-period classroom to find someone else sitting in my assigned desk- just talking to a classmate before the bell rang. Somehow (I’ll be honest, I don’t really remember exactly why we were talking about this) we broached the topic of my ethnicity versus my appearance; this person at my desk absolutely insisted that I was white. How could I not be? He and I were virtually the same “color,” nevermind my Asian features and lived experience as a person of color. After 10 minutes of arguing with him, I gave up trying to convince him and let him believe that I was white. This was the first instance I ever coercively passed as anything other than Filipina.
As I previously stated, another way in which I pass in my day-to-day life is as a straight woman. Those who don’t know me well would likely assume that I’m heterosexual because of my year-long monogamous relationship with a cisgendered man; however, an important and prevalent part of my identity is that I am not, in fact, straight. Technically, I’ve identified as bisexual since I was 17 (I’m 21 as you read this essay) and although I’ve never had a same-sex relationship, I still consider this facet of my life to be an important one. An important detail of this, that I’m ashamed to admit, is that not my parents, not my brothers,
not even my boyfriend, know that I am bisexual. I coercively pass every day of my life because if your identity is marginalized, it will mean you have to assert it. (Eisner, 107). Someone I love and share groceries, a home, and a bed with doesn’t know about a huge part of my life. This makes me feel unrelenting guilt, shame, and worry that he might one day find out on his own and feel betrayed. He once verbalized the assumption that I’m heterosexual and I simply didn’t correct him. I don’t know why I haven’t told him yet; he’s accepting and tolerant of all different identities and sexual orientations. It’s the same with my family; they simply assume that I’m “normal,” like them, and I don’t want to correct them for fear that I’m only accepted and loved by them under the “premise that I am not bisexual” (Eisner, 109). This fear and remorse follows me everywhere.
If you’re like me, passing may be “a negative pursuit, the unfortunate result of personal shame and social stigma” (Cox, 101) and come with feelings of guilt or a feeling of being stifled. That said, passing doesn’t always come with negative associations attached to it. For some, passing can come with feelings of pride and accomplishment, or simply feelings of being closer to normalcy (Brune/Wilson, 23), especially if you’re passing intentionally. Such was the case for many polio survivors; many refused the aid of crutches or wheelchairs in favor of walking on their own (Brune/Wilson, 23). Trans people also often make the effort to pass as the gender they identify as or are making the transition to- simply
to avoid the persecution often associated with straying from the norm of the gender binary. There’s no right or wrong way to feel about passing, and passing doesn’t always bring about such strong emotions on either end of the spectrum. Much like any other phenomenon, individual people with have individual reactions.
Passing is different for everyone and can vary in meaning for different facets of each person’s identity. While I personally pass as white and straight, many others may pass as gay, as a woman, as Latinx; the possibilities are endless. Society’s perception of “normal” affects everyone in one way or another, and it can be either harmful or helpful depending on who you are.
