If you guess my deadname wrong, I get your firstborn child
I’ve had a number of cis people, usually people I barely know, ask me what my name was before I transitioned.
First off, please don’t ever ask this of a trans person. I understand it from your perspective: you’re curious. But look at it from my perspective. What do I have to possibly gain by revealing a huge vulnerability to a stranger: a word that’s like a slur only for me? I’m not exaggerating; I would rather be called any number of slurs than my deadname.
I’d never tell anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to know, because it’s an infohazard. If you don’t know it, you can’t even accidentally say it. In fact, I wish I could unlearn other people’s deadnames. If I could delete them from my brain, I would.
The response I’ve started to use, though, is “Guess.” My deadname is pretty obscure, so I even clue them in on the first letter. No one’s ever gotten it.
Maybe I should instead educate them on why exactly that question is offensive, so they don’t ask someone else. But I kind of prefer the cheeky, Rumpelstiltskin-ass response. After all, I like the idea of trans people being like the fey or demons, where names have some sort of supernatural power.
Except for the only power my deadname gives you is the power to make me dislike you. Which, if you know me, isn’t really a superpower.