When I first went to work at the County Family and Children Services, I received a child abuse report (which turned out to be unfounded) on a family. It happened that the mother was in the office for another reason, so I went to her and said "When you finish with Mrs. XXX, I need to see you." I was struck by her appearance. She had olive complexion, straight black hair, she was wearing jeans, boots, a western shirt, and was dripping in turquoise. Rings, belt buckle, earrings, bracelets, and probably things I couldn't see.
I'm taking her basic information and I asked, "What's your race?" I figured she would either say "American Indian" or "Native American." Oh, no. "I'm WHITE!"
I lost my professional composure. "Have you looked in the mirror? I'd have bet Cherokee in a heartbeat!" It turned out that her husband liked for her to dress that way. Next question, "Does he wear a cowboy hat and spurs?" By this time we were both laughing. But I never missed a person's gender.
