Like many trans people in the early days of transition, I was battling a lot of depression and misgendering. This led to me sleeping through most of daylight, and becoming a night owl and socially recluse, to avoid a maximum amount of interactions with other people.

As part of my efforts to improve my mental health, I got myself a dog. This ensured I had to leave my home a few times a day to walk her. Plus, many strangers who might otherwise have commented on my appearance, instead fixated on how adorable my dog was. I was having positive interactions with people in which my gender didn’t register.

I didn’t have to go far to walk my dog, the building grounds included a park open to the public. What I didn’t know prior to becoming a dog walking night owl, was that this park was where underaged (13 to 16) sex workers congregated to work.

I can’t explain how long I managed to remain oblivious to this. At least once a week, a man would stop his car on the sidewalk next to me, and ask me where a nearby public institution was. From the 1st time this occurred, I couldn’t understand how anyone could get a block away from said public institution, without figuring out how to get to it. They were so close, they clearly knew its address, their need for directions baffled me. One after the other, I assured them they were a mere block away from their destination, and walked on, no doubt shaking my head as much as they were, for entirely different reasons. Hindsight.

I saw the young men in the park, but they never came near me, they left my dog alone, I hadn’t given them much thought to be honest. Certainly, I hadn’t connected their presence with the older men asking me for directions. This is but one example of why, when people tell me I’m smart, I have a hard time accepting the compliment. I miss really obvious stuff all the time, repeatedly, over an extended period of time.

Then one night, around 2am, as I entered the park, dog on lead, the young men started converging on me. As they got closer, some of them took out brass knuckles from their pockets, and slid them on. I thought “I’m about to die, and I don’t know why.” One of them announced that this was an ultimatum, I was to get off their turf, and never return. My too-pragmatic-for-my-own-good side casually explained that while I didn’t mind their presence in the park, it was part of the grounds of the building I lived in, so technically, if anyone was on anyone else’s turf, it was them on mine. They stopped their advance, looked at each other in utter confusion. They asked me to confirm I was lived in the building, and wasn’t a sex worker. It was my turn to be completely stumped. I made the mistake of asking how on Earth they’d gotten the impression I was a sex worker, what with me walking a dog. They explained that they’d figured she was one of my gimmicks. Right around the time of the look of horror on my face at the concept of my dog as a sex related gimmick was when they felt convinced I wasn’t lying.

The whole interaction felt surreal.

It was around then my brain made the connection between them being sex workers, and the older men “asking me for directions” to where no one should have needed directions from where they were. I couldn’t believe how dense I’d been.

Whenever I ran into those young men following that night, we had pleasant chats. And I pretended not to hear when asked directions to the nearby public institute thereafter.