Chicks With Dykes
Sexuality and gender roles are at best only vague, fluid guidelines
| 12 Dec 2006
Stories about sexuality usually start at puberty, because in the rule book that's where it all begins. This is when you realise how hot girls are, or that you're not like other boys; this is when you discover breasts, feel awkward, different. Perhaps the story started even earlier: you knew as a child that you were growing up in the wrong body, you knew you didn't belong with the other girls in the playground, that you wanted to rough and tumble with the boys and the onset of puberty merely confirmed your suspicions.
But there are hundreds of these stories, and they don't reflect mine. Puberty hit; I felt different to other boys; I looked around for answers. I identified as trans, transitioned at eighteen and had surgery at twenty. My struggle, abridged. But my life as a trans woman didn't end there. Although trans issues become ever more visible, the one thing that still remains shadowy and indistinct is the notion that trans people can have any form of fulfilling sex life, and, even more disturbing, that non-trans people might want to involve themselves in this rather unnatural activity.
The thing about changing your sexual identity is that you go through a sort of puberty at a point in life when your peers are already mature and moving ahead in life. At twenty-one I was wearing the kind of make-up that most girls leave behind when they turn fourteen. As a transexual I always knew that I was female, but knowing what it means to be a woman is something you can only learn from living it. So after surgery came a sort of sexual awakening, as I grew into my body, and developed relationships with those around me without the albatross of gender dysphoria hanging round my neck.
One discovery that came as something of a surprise was that, after nearly a decade of picturing myself happily married to the man of my dreams, I suddenly discovered that men really weren't what I was after. Coming to terms with being trans had taken a long time for me. I had buried and suppressed my queer identity to such an extent that I didn't feel that I belonged in queer spaces because I identified as straight, and had no wish to out myself any time soon. Realising I was a lesbian forced me to face up to these issues. At first I was uncomfortable going into gay bars, and I was troubled by the feeling that I didn't belong there, that I couldn't really belong anywhere as long as I was masquerading as a gay woman. This
internalised transphobia mirrors exactly the reasons why transgendered sexuality remains hidden.
The fact is that being transgendered has no bearing on sexual desire. Trans people deserve a fulfilling sex life as much as everyone else, and this was something which took a while to dawn on me. As a straight woman, on some level I bought into the notion that I had undergone a long and difficult journey to become a woman and had somehow finally earned the right to sleep with men. But in doing so, I thought, I had forfeited my right to sleep with women. In some way the only sexual role I could now perform was strictly missionary, and as a trans person I was in no position to question this. Fortunately experience has given me a better sense of self, and I now know that I, and indeed all people, trans or not, can choose how best to express themselves sexually.
As a gay trans woman it seems to me that sexuality and gender roles are at best only vague, fluid guidelines. As someone who spent a long time chasing after boys and then switched to girls almost overnight in her mid-twenties, I can appreciate that nothing is ever set in stone. That said, my life as a gay woman and my life as a trans woman are irrevocably linked, and I am a stronger person for it.
But there are hundreds of these stories, and they don't reflect mine. Puberty hit; I felt different to other boys; I looked around for answers. I identified as trans, transitioned at eighteen and had surgery at twenty. My struggle, abridged. But my life as a trans woman didn't end there. Although trans issues become ever more visible, the one thing that still remains shadowy and indistinct is the notion that trans people can have any form of fulfilling sex life, and, even more disturbing, that non-trans people might want to involve themselves in this rather unnatural activity.
The thing about changing your sexual identity is that you go through a sort of puberty at a point in life when your peers are already mature and moving ahead in life. At twenty-one I was wearing the kind of make-up that most girls leave behind when they turn fourteen. As a transexual I always knew that I was female, but knowing what it means to be a woman is something you can only learn from living it. So after surgery came a sort of sexual awakening, as I grew into my body, and developed relationships with those around me without the albatross of gender dysphoria hanging round my neck.
One discovery that came as something of a surprise was that, after nearly a decade of picturing myself happily married to the man of my dreams, I suddenly discovered that men really weren't what I was after. Coming to terms with being trans had taken a long time for me. I had buried and suppressed my queer identity to such an extent that I didn't feel that I belonged in queer spaces because I identified as straight, and had no wish to out myself any time soon. Realising I was a lesbian forced me to face up to these issues. At first I was uncomfortable going into gay bars, and I was troubled by the feeling that I didn't belong there, that I couldn't really belong anywhere as long as I was masquerading as a gay woman. This
internalised transphobia mirrors exactly the reasons why transgendered sexuality remains hidden.
The fact is that being transgendered has no bearing on sexual desire. Trans people deserve a fulfilling sex life as much as everyone else, and this was something which took a while to dawn on me. As a straight woman, on some level I bought into the notion that I had undergone a long and difficult journey to become a woman and had somehow finally earned the right to sleep with men. But in doing so, I thought, I had forfeited my right to sleep with women. In some way the only sexual role I could now perform was strictly missionary, and as a trans person I was in no position to question this. Fortunately experience has given me a better sense of self, and I now know that I, and indeed all people, trans or not, can choose how best to express themselves sexually.
As a gay trans woman it seems to me that sexuality and gender roles are at best only vague, fluid guidelines. As someone who spent a long time chasing after boys and then switched to girls almost overnight in her mid-twenties, I can appreciate that nothing is ever set in stone. That said, my life as a gay woman and my life as a trans woman are irrevocably linked, and I am a stronger person for it.