UNDER A MICROSCOPE: ON QUEER AND TRANS HARASSMENT WITHIN THE SERVICE INDUSTRY
This three part series is written by Arielle Rebekah, DiGiCat 2020, Founder of Trans and Caffeinated podcast
Arielle Rebekah (she/they)
This three- part series is a retelling of my journey as a white, queer, non-disabled trans woman, navigating the service industry at different points of my transition. Other queer and trans people may have vastly different stories, due to the way intersecting oppressions can impact our experiences (e.g. racism, ableism, classism, etc.) Trigger warnings include sexual objectification + dehumanization, loss of agency, misgendering, transphobia, and sexually predatory behavior.
Lesson 1: The Customer is Not Always Right
I started my first coffee job in February 2015, less than two months removed from the abusive southern boarding school where my therapist had outed me to my family as trans. The fallout with my parents from the school’s anti-trans rhetoric still haunted me following graduation, and I knew that my ability to transition was contingent upon finding safe spaces to explore my identity.
An extensive 3 AM google search for “trans-friendly” employers yielded just two seemingly viable results: Trader Joe’s and Starbucks. Within weeks, I started as a barista at my local Starbucks, and I felt at home with my coworkers almost immediately. I don’t buy into the whole “your workplace is a family” nonsense, but my coworkers filled a very important void in my life: they created a space where I was free to explore my identity without fear of repercussion or judgment from the people with whom I spent my days.
At the time I started working in coffee, I was perceived as an extremely femme queer boy. I had chin-length hair, a high voice, and was often regarded as “overly eccentric” (read: overcompensating for the fact that I felt trapped in a gender presentation that simply was not me). I was not yet out as trans publicly, so they had no reason to assume any differently—though some folks insist that they previously suspected I was a “lady person,” which I honestly find kind of endearing.
Shortly after I started, I became aware of what I now understand as the disheartening reality of existing in a service role as anyone who isn’t read as a cis het man: we are frequently mistreated, dehumanized, objectified, condescended to, and even sexualized by customers often without any real recourse.
Our options for responding or reacting to these instances is severely limited by company policies that prioritize customer comfort above all else, bolstered by the outdated adage, “the customer is always right.”
The customer is not always right. Sometimes the customer is rude, aggressive, sexually predatory, queer/transphobic, racist, ableist, mysogynistic, etc. Sometimes, customers make us extremely uncomfortable, while outdated standards of professionalism and workplace etiquette prevent us from self-advocating, setting boundaries, or removing ourselves from the situation.
Many such behaviors come in the form of microaggressions—which is admittedly a bit of a misnomer, because these are only micro to the person doing them, not to the marginalized individual on the receiving end. For me, these at first were related to my perceived queerness.
“Sometimes, teenagers in my drive thru would catch themselves saying, “that’s so gay,” and then immediately turn to me and say, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean you. I just meant it was stupid” as if that somehow made me less uncomfortable.”
Occasionally, folks went as far as refusing to be served by me, though this bit happened far more frequently after I began to transition.
Other instances of aggression were more macro. One such example came in the form of a man named Sam, who was a twice-a-day regular. Sam’s reputation preceded him: he was routinely rude to baristas, and had a habit of somehow finding and adding us on social media.
One day, Sam messaged me on Facebook.
“Hey.” Innocuous enough.
“Hi,” I replied.
“I’ve never fu**ed a dude before,” he responded. No preface. No lead-in. No consent asked before making a sexually charged comment.
I won’t lay claim that these messages are never targeted at cis het men, but this brand of brazenly predatory behavior disproportionately affects queers and femmes (particularly those who are also disabled and/or BIPOC).
Normally, it’s somewhat possible to ignore these messages without much fear of retribution—but when this behavior comes from a customer, there are additional factors to consider. What happens the next time this customer comes into the store? Do they plan to make similarly crude comments about me at work? To what degree are they likely to escalate this situation to overt harassment, stalking, or violence? When “the customer is always right,” what possible recourse do I have when they are so clearly wrong?
At my coworkers’ urging, I immediately brought the situation to my managers’ attention. As is painfully common, she argued in favor of customer comfort, insisting that we “cannot ban him” and that I should instead just try to avoid him when he came in.
This blatant dismissal of employee concerns is a natural extension of “the customer is right,” and it disproportionately harms marginalized hospitality workers. Therefore, this rhetoric is not only inaccurate, it also perpetuates oppression in the forms of sexism, transmisogyny, queerphobia, racism, ableism, etc.
I’m sure there are cafés that would have handled this situation more effectively. But by and large, service jobs perpetuates a narrative that customers can flagrantly dehumanize and disregard employees with little to no consequence. And it is high time the service industry stops ignoring this issue.
Arielle Rebekah (she/they)
A transgender writer, private consultant, coffee fanatic, and author of the blog and podcast Trans and Caffeinated. Her work is centered around increasing visibility and representation for the trans and gender non-conforming (TGNC) community, creating safe spaces for budding allies to learn and grow, and normalizing conversations about sexuality and gender. This week, Arielle kicks off her three part series for Glitter Stories that retells her navigation of the service industry at different points of her transition and lessons she’s learned.