I actually wrote an essay about this. I include it here. If you feel it takes too much space, delete it. It's all good.

My Neighborhood: A Penny For My Thoughts

The other night I attended a neighborhood birthday party for a 4 years-old boy. Many of my neighbors were gathered. I held our newest neighbor. He's about 8 weeks old.

I looked around the garden. On many levels I share nothing in common with this community.

I have no wife at my side. I have no child nor grandchild on my knee. I have one diploma in my filing cabinet. My pockets remain lined with fabric silt and not cash nor coin. Although I'm surrounded by loving souls, in many ways I live in solitude. I'm easily judged unsuccessful in my life.

Although we have little in common, I love my neighbors. They remind me of my place in a community.

Often in the midst of a group, I feel the most alone. As I held Geoff's son, I felt quite alone. My conscience sighed my selfishness out of my soul and I glanced around the group. A young child meandered around the periphery. Over the years I've seen her scamper throughout the neighborhood. The fluidity of her movements testifies that God has made her the most gifted athlete among the children. At the party she didn't partake. She solemnly sat on a stone border guarding a flower bed. Her behavior was guarded. Her angelic face wore a lifeless facade. But her eyes were too clouded for such a slip of a girl. The last time I saw her, we were at a block party. Her mother and I chatted while she played. A neighborhood boy approached us and asked the Mother whether her daughter was a boy or a girl. His question broke my heart then; now her eyes shattered my soul. I remained silent. It wasn't my place or my time or my hurt. I reminded myself that it wasn't about me. I chastised myself that I'm often too earnest.

At the birthday party I watched her; I remembered me. My heart silently broke into shards.

As a child my pockets were empty of stones or toads. I palmed a Rosary and a holy card. On moral grounds I denounced competition and refused to participate in little league or any competitive athletic games. I was cerebral and spiritual while my contemporaries were physical and jovial. I became a pudgy, innocent child. I did not fit.

In 7th grade I began middle school. I remember the first class on my first day. I met a girl. Her name was Penny Holton. Within the first few beats of our homeroom, she made me feel homeless. "Are you a boy or a girl?" she bleated. I couldn't hit her; my Father forbid it. "Hey! Are you a boy or a girl?" She taunted. I didn't reply. I was a wordsmith; my unshed tears washed all words from my mind. Her torture lasted the year.

I don't remember what happened to her; I remember what happened to me.

I felt ashamed of myself. I became secretive. I subtracted the sorrowfilled and shamedful subject from all conversations with my Parents. I doubted every aspect of myself. I judged my gestures for masculinity. I surveyed all my speech for signs of a sexuality I was too innocent to understand. I inspected my deportment for signs that I deviated from the devoted. I intellectually and emotionally withdrew. In elementary school, I sat with a few at the top of my class. In middle school, I sought refuge in the midst. I gradually became a different man; I graduated less the man and more the fooled.

I recalled myself as I watched the child at the birthday party. I felt the obligation to educate and to alleviate. I wanted to approach her and tell her the answers. I wanted to tell her that the boys weren't questioning her; they questioned themselves. I wanted to teach her that boys struggle in a whirled that rejects emotions and raises accomplishments. I wanted to show her that the boys were questioning themselves with unformed questions: "If a girl wins against me, am I less a man? Am I boy or a girl?" I wanted to help her see the injustice of jealousy.

But I didn't. She wouldn't understand. I'm too old to speak to someone so young. I'm a man and she's a child. And she's not my child. But we share a similar sorrow. And we share a God who sees us and guides us and places us as beats in the synchronicity of His Divinity. She feels these hurts now; I felt these hurts then. One day the sting of sorrow will lessen and I pray she'll learn a lesson.

I continue to learn. I walked home from the birthday party and I thanked God that He had placed Penny Holton in my life. I learned from Penny. At the birthday party I learned that people with seemingly nothing in common share the largest community: children of a benevolent Father.

Community is about a communion. And God reminded me of the Holiest Communion.

©2011 Mark R Trost All Rights Reserved

Mark, this was a very genuine and wonderful response. Thank you for sharing. My answer is "yes, it happens to me all the time." I too have felt that pain of which you speak. I rarely felt it as a child because I had long hair that I kept in a ponytail. It is now that I get called, "sir." Sometimes it bothers me more than other times.

Response from a friend:
This is so very my question, though I have to amend my answer a little. I'm going with B, though it doesn't happen all the time anymore. But it used to happen all the time, so "once or twice" definitely isn't the right answer. I went through a variety of reactions. At first I was confused, then would knee-jerk against it, then was resigned, then would try to make it clear that I WASN'T the gender identity everyone assumed that I was, to be pre-emptive, then I changed (to a degree) the way I dressed so people would stop making the assumption based on my (lack of) fashion. Then I decided to just say "whatever," and not care anymore, because I didn't like that I was so offended that people were making that untrue assumption, because I decided it was bigoted of me to be defensive about it. So that's my super long answer!

Yes - 17
No - 38

It seems to be about haircuts or phone voices.

Pete
---
A/D: I've been told I've got really long, pretty, girly hair. I would often get mistaken for a female from the back when I was much younger. Never really happens to me anymore though.

Friends
---
Dx6 [This would have been very different had I asked a different group of friends.]

Another female friend from Facebook said: "B) it happens all of the time. I think it's kinda funny most of the time but sometimes I say to myself "really?" especially if I'm wearing something that is particularly girly that shows off my curves."

Question 15: Has anyone ever made an incorrect assumption about your gender identity?

Me: A few times

Friends: 1-no, never
2- a few times

One friend's low voice gets her mistaken for a man sometimes on the phone. The other's first name is sometimes mistaken for a man's name, and she used to get a lot of recruiting information from the military.

Question: Has anyone ever been mistaken about your gender identity and how did it make you feel?

I guess now and then a shop person will say "Sir" as they first see me, wearing scruffy male clothes, out of the corner of their eye. I feel a little embarassed for them, as they look directly at me and realize their mistake. Other than feeling bad for their awkward moment, it doesn't bother me.

Mark's story reminded me of my childhood. My mom kept my hair cut very short. How I envied the other girls with the curls, wearing hair ribbons, or the beautiful long hair in braids or pony tails. There was even the kids' show where they measured for the longest pony tail. My hair was too short to make a pony tail at all.
The older juvenile delinquent boy across the street used to say "Are you a boy or a girl?" When I would say I was a girl, he'd say "prove it." Yeah, he was a sicko. How it made me feel... humiliated that my mom wouldn't let me have long beautiful hair like the other girls, and mad that the guy was a jerk.
But really, does it matter that much, for a child? In researching for a paper I wrote, I learned that in the 1600s they referred to young children as "it" rather than "he" or "she" because really does a toddler have a gender identity? We make such a big deal of it in our culture now, but is that us or wall street? Every girl has to have a closet full of pink and purple.
Anyway.

My friends answers:
4 - Not that I know of
3 - No never
And one: Now that my hair is past my shoulders i get an occasional waitperson who screws up by asking what we ladies want before he gets far enough forward to see the beard. No it doesn't affect the tip.

Comments on the others, whose answers were already indicated above:

I have accidentally called someone Ma'am or sir and they are actually the other -- not because I questioned their gender just because it came out of my mouth before my brain was engaged.

I don't think its possible to confuse me with a female.

Has anyone ever made an incorrect assumption about your gender identity?

Yes, once or twice

once i was at the beach and i was wearing very MNALY clothes and their were these JERKS that took my shovel and said thanks Miss....i say YO FOO I iS A MAN SHUT UP!!!!! PREPARE FOR A KNUCKLE SAND whICH AND SOME FRUIT....PUNCH man did i flyin to a manly rage.........But my mother came and held me back......Got to love mothers....idk if i have answered the question yet...so i won't.....

Yes once or twice-5
Yes all the time 0
No never- 3
Not that I know of 2

Results for Question #15: Has anyone ever made an incorrect assumption about your gender identity?

Yes, once or twice, 43 responses
Yes, it happens to me all the time, 7 responses
No, never, 23 responses
Not that I know of, 22 response

Total responses: 95

Follow up: Does it make you uncomfortable when someone does an activity or plays a role that is usually associated with the opposite gender? e.g. male ballet dancers or female construction workers.