Fuck me! A how-to Guide

WARNING:

This post is all about my sex life.  It's probably graphic.

If your a personal friend of mine, or family member, this post is quite possibly TMI.  Feel free to read it, but don't blame me if you learn more than you wanted to.

For those of you currently having sex with me or hoping to in the future, i totally encourage you to read this.

With that out of the way, I shall crack on.

Firstly, why am I writing this?

Well for a number of reasons, but chiefly because trans women's sex lives seem to be tremendously misunderstood.  For most people, the only concept of what sex with a trans woman is like, probably comes from porn.  This is probably the worst possible sample of trans women from which to build ones assumptions.

Here's why.

Not only is porn nothing like reality in oh so many ways that I pray you are already aware of, but trans women in porn represent the very tiny number of us who are capable of and comfortable using our penises (if we still have them) in a male typical way.

You see, for most trans women, the testosterone blockers we take make it very difficult, if not impossible, to get and maintain an erection.  Performing penetrative sex is simply not a possibility for many of us.  

Secondly, I've had more than one person be utterly confused as to how they should approach me in bed.  It's very interesting to see just how gendered many peoples sex lives really are, and just how much atypical anatomy throws them off

So how do we have sex?

Well I have no idea how "we" have sex, but I can tell you how I like to have sex.

Many trans women report a loss of libido after beginning hormone treatment.

This has not been the case for me I'm happy to say.  I'm enjoying sex more than I ever did "as a man", but the character of my libido has certainly changed.  

Basically, I get to be horny on my terms.

When i had a lot more testosterone in my system, arousal was something that happened to me, often against my will.  Now, for the most part, getting aroused is something I chose to do.  

It's kind of lovely actually!

Sex itself has changed so much that I'm still only just beginning to figure things out after 9 months.

These days when I'm turned on I tend to get half erections.  If I really want to i can get and maintain a full erection long enough to do the old fashioned PIV intercourse or jerk off, but it doesn't get me off the way it used to.  Lacking testosterone, simply stimulating my penis is almost never enough for me to reach orgasm.  In fact, the sort of orgasms I can achieve that way are becoming generally weaker and less interesting.

So, if you're familiar with having sex with men, and were to attempt to have sex with me in that way, it would be deeply disappointing for both/all of us.

These days my erogenous zones seem to have been ever expanding to the point that now, depending on how aroused I am, they pretty much encompass my entire body.

Breasts, nipples, buttocks, nape of neck, ears, inner thighs, all of these areas feel amazing.  Not just at the point of contact either, but increasingly as a powerfully warm surge that radiates from my core, right behind my belly button, all the way up to the top of my head and down to my perineum.

Sounds fabulous I hear you say, what a lucky bitch you are.

Well yes, but...

There's always a but.

As awesome as my body can feel these days, it's also very elusive.

It's as if the wiring of my pleasure centers is a faulty and prone to power surges.  

While my body has become much more sensitive to touch, it almost over sensitive.  If any given area gets too much stimulation it seems to flip the breaker and instantly the good feels are gone from that area.  Like spinning plates, maintaining arousal for me has become about constantly tending to and switching between different areas, never allowing them to cool down completely and never causing them to overheat and turn off.

The best analogy I can make is one of an orchestra, all the different sections must be playing together in harmony.  Yes, there are solos and the focus shifts from one area of the orchestra to another but everything must still work together as a composition.

When it's working though, oh my gawd does it ever feel good.  

It's frustrating that I can't do this for myself.

Even knowing exactly what I want internally I can't seem to bring everything together to reach orgasm yet, although it does seem to be getting closer and feels like something far more profound than merely ejaculating.

Speaking of which,

My Penis!

I almost forgot, I still have that thing!

It still feels good to be touched, but I find I have this mental image of my future vagina and focusing on my penis distracts from. To much time spent there is confusing and brings me out of the moment.

These days i mostly treat it like a vagina sans convenient hole for putting fingers/other penises in.

Fortunately there's an asshole for that.  Well, for other peoples penises anyway.  

I've never been a fan of having peoples fingers in my ass, and dildos/strap-ons are generally so poorly wielded as to be painful, so unless you're some sort of strap-on wizard I am probably not going to enjoy that.

Emotionally I'm pretty submissive by nature although sometimes I do like to "fight and lose" so to speak.

I have learned that I can have sex with someone I'm not terribly attracted to and that it leads to pretty unsatisfying sex.

I've learned that what I am attracted to extends far beyond physical appearance.

Confidence and the ability to talk openly during sex is a huge turn on.

Being wanted is a huge turn on.

Someone who's good at having sex with their whole body, who knows how to fuck me as a whole person, not a sequence of anatomical buttons, someone with rhythm can bring me close to coming as as I ever get and often in totally unexpected ways which has made sex one of the most delightful things in my life.

So I guess, you should have sex with trans women like I hope you would with anyone else.

By treating us as individuals.

Finding Home Again

Last night I cooked a meal at my new apartment for the first time.

It was a small but important act.

I had realized over the previous week just how adrift I have been feeling of late.

I've been working furiously to get things done, to make this space for myself happen, but I hadn't realized just how much the lack of a Home was wearing on me.

After my wife and I decided we were separating, after I moved onto the couch. It felt like I was a guest in what had, for the last five years, been my home.  

Then, after a fight that made me pack my bags and run, I found myself staying at my boyfriends house, without a plan and a little lost.

He'd only just moved in himself.  

Nothing was there yet, still on it's way from back east.  

For two weeks it was nothing but potential.  

I loved being in that big empty space, all of my possessions comfortably inside one tiny room and feeling free of stuff.  

I had left with my clothes and my essential cooking equipment.

Almost all I did for those two weeks was enjoy the emptiness of that space and cook.

I got back in touch with the sense of joy I find in preparing food, making something as beautiful as it is delicious and as nourishing as it is transitory.

A meal is so self contained, and yet reflects everything we are.  

We must eat to live, and because of this I think we can see ourselves in how we choose to go about food.

It is an obligation we must fulfill to our material being. 

It runs all the way from sacrament to chore,  from comfort to abuse, and from love to hate.

As we start to understand the incredible complexity of our digestive system, it becomes more and more clear that many of the feelings and emotions we experience originate in the bacteria who live along with us.  

No wonder we're so emotional about food, food IS emotion.

After my boyfriend's wife arrived with all their possessions, and their house went from empty possibility to being the physical expression of their lives, I knew I couldn't continue living there.  Although I did anyway, because in spite of everything I've learned about listening to my intuition in this past year, it was easy to stay there and feel taken care of.  

At least for a while.  

Until it wasn't.

And then, just as I had arrived there, all of a sudden because it was the only place I knew how to run to at the time, I was leaving.

Grabbing my stuff and getting the hell out, because apparently when I decide to do something, I have to do it immediately.

It was impossible to maintain the  illusion of that place being home.

I found a new place in a week, a place of my own (even though I have a roommate and I swore I was going to live o my own).

There's a lot of decorating to do and it's a ton of work, and three weeks into it I'm still not moved in yet, but last night I cooked a meal there,  and slept in the bed that is next to my bed because my bed isn't ready yet, and it felt, for the first time like I might be home.

The last few days have been hard.  

Really hard.

I have been exhausted for quite a while and I hadn't realized just how much I need my own space to go to recharge.

But last night was better.

Last night I went to the grocery store (Lam's Seafood Market, it's my favorite one in all of seattle and I'm so glad I live near it again) and bought groceries for the first time in three weeks.  

Then I went home.  

Something about walking in with groceries and all of a sudden I felt like I actually lived there.

I had a friend coming over, and I had groceries, and I had a kitchen and I had a home again.

Apparently that's what home means to me.

Home is the place where I can walk in and cook without having to ask permission.

I'll be fine in a minute

Before I started transitioning I thought of myself as being weak.  

As a child I felt overwhelmed by things and would retreat into shyness and solitude.  I'd exclude myself from activities in the hope that others would see that I was alone and come to save me from that loneliness.  

I'm pretty sure this began as a behavior when my mother got cancer.

I was five at the time, and my sister was two, we were on vacation in Virginia.

I vaguely recall my mother looking ill one day, something about food poisoning, then she was being taking to the hospital.  I have clear imaged of the garden at my grandparents house, of the white, pierced metal table and chairs on a red brick patio.  Memories of how green and humid it is around DC in the summer.

I don't remember actually seeing my other in the hospital, but I remember the hospital itself.

I'm told I refused to go near my mother.   

That I thought she'd die if I touched her?  Or maybe I was afraid that I'd die too?

That must have been very hard for her.  

It was never talked about.

Eventually my sister and my Visas ran out.

My father told me that my sister and I would be flying back to the England and living with our grandmother, that he would stay in America with our mother until she was well again and then they'd come home.

I don't know if I believed that my mother was going to get better or not.

I'm told, although I have no memory of this, that after my father had informed me of what would be happening, he then went to talk to my sister, or would have if I hadn't jumped up and taken the task upon myself.

Apparently I decided to take charge of things at that point.

I told my sister what would be happening and that she needn't worry because I would be with her to look after her.

Shortly thereafter we flew back to England, my sister and I, a two year old and a five year old  in the care of a British Airways flight attendant.  Things were different in the 80's, people expected children to be competent in ways I don't see today.  In truth, a five year old child can take care of a two year old on a transatlantic flight with minimal supervision. 

I know because I did.

But it leaves scars.

I became very withdrawn after that.  

It was longer than we expected before my parents were able to return to the the UK.  

I would start the school year late and in a new school. I remember loosing a tooth in the class of a teacher who was very strict, and sitting there with my mouth filling with blood because I didn't want to raise my hand to ask to go to the bathroom to spit it out.  Another child in that class once wet themselves for the same reason.

I don't recall learning anything in that class other than it being ok to swallow a mouthful of blood .

After the flight back I didn't relate well to other kids. 

 My life had taken a turn towards adulthood too soon, and so I held myself apart form the other children.  I'd also become painfully shy and found it difficult to make friends.  It didn't help that this was the age when boys are starting to play with boys and girls with girls.  Gender lines were being drawn that made being friends with girls difficult.

After we moved back to Wales I was very shy for a long time, although for some reason I was never bullied.  Honestly the kids I grew up with were incredibly kind hearted and drew me out of myself.  Other boys let me be my own weird self without passing too much judgement if I was a bit girly at times, and things got better.  As a kid I enjoyed things right across the gender line.  Sword and dolls, Action man and makeup.

But as a boy, I always felt weak compared to other boys.

This feeling has stayed with me right up until a couple of months ago.  

Transition has given me a sense of agency and personal strength I never felt before.

That tendency I've had my whole life, to let things fall apart when I feel overwhelmed, to be weak until someone notices and comes to help, to be that child who took on adulthood at the age of five and forever after was unable to admit that it had been too much, I'm moving past that.

Not trying to be someone else frees up a lot of emotional energy.

It's because of that that I've been able to handle things this past year that would have sunk me into a major depression before.  If you know me, you will mostly see someone who's very direct, someone who takes action as soon as she sees it's needed.  Someone who, and I hope this isn't vanity speaking, has her shit together.

What people perhaps don't see is that I'm no less scared than I was before.  

While I'm stronger now and more confident in myself, while I'm proud that I don't let my fear overwhelm me and paralyze me into inaction, I'm still scared.  It still hurts.

Transition is hard.

I am getting a divorce.

I miss my daughter every day I don't get to see her.

My mother did pass away this year, and I miss her too.

I have been through two surgeries this year.

I have spent the last three months without a permanent address and I still have no idea where my life is going.

I am still scared.

Tomorrow I'll be back on top of things and feeling fucking great that I'm still alive.

But just right now I cant see through the tears to type properly, because right now the Atlantic Ocean is just too big and I am too small.

But don't worry.

I'll be fine in a minute.

Misandry

Ok, this is basically a small linguistic rant.

There is this thing I see happening a lot these days where people are saying that Misandry isn't a thing.

I know where this is coming from, it's the same reason we say that "reverse racism" or "reverse sexism" are not real things.

Now in the case of racism and sexism, both of these words have specific meanings that preclude to possibility of a reverse form. 

Both these isms, by their very definition, refer to an institutionalized marginalization and oppression of one group by another socially privileged group.  Racism and sexism can only go one direction.

But Misandry, like it's counterpart Misogyny does not infer any power structure dynamic.

Certainly, a sexist patriarchal society is a breading ground for misogyny and examples of it are far more pervasive than it's male focused counterpart, but that doesn't mean it's impossible for women (of men too) to hate men!

Misandry is a useful word that is being stripped of meaning by some vocal groups within feminism who really do appear to believe that men are fundamentally the enemy.  Their views are absolutely misandrous and damaging to productive conversation about the problems both men and women face as a result of living in a patriarchal society.

It troubles me when I see people who I respect starting to use the language of people who I frankly consider to be hate groups in this unthinking way.

So please people.

Misogyny - A hatred of women and things feminine (no implied power dynamic)

Misandry - A hatred of Men and things masculine (no implied power dynamic)

Misanthropy - A hatred of humans and human culture (no implied power dynamic)

Sexism - Oppression of one gender group by another more privileged gender group (power dynamic is implicit, and essential to the words meaning).

And yes I'm aware that some MRAs are using Misandry to mean "reverse sexism", and shame on them too, but that doesn't need to linguistically handicap ourselves for the benefit of idiots.

/rant.

A little bird told me.

I follow a number of people on twitter who's streams have a strong social justice angle to them.  One of them is @BrothaJamesWolf who tweets mostly about issues of racism in America today.  Following him has been an eye opening experience...  Upon occasion we have talked back and forth a little, one such exchange, in which he admitted to a certain amount of transphobia, led to him writing this post on his blog:

BROTHA WOLF 

~ Howling For Change

Interestingly, the person who he mentions as having been part of the impetus for the post is referred to as "he".  I was surprised by this, but didn't take offense.

In fact, and this may seem odd, my first reaction was that he had done this to protect my identity in some way.  Here's the excerpt.

"Now, I know you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this. Well, there are two reasons: One, goes back to a quick convo I had with a Twitter follower. The other is an important lesson that even I have to learn.

I told him about my online encounter with a transsexual that ended in me leaving in a huff. He wanted to know why I was pissed. For a while, I looked back and thought long and hard wondering what caused me to be cross with her."

Part of the reason I assumed that he wasn't misgendering me, but rather obscuring my identity, was that he refers to the trans girl he reacted badly to as Her and She.  
The other part of my reason for not taking it personally was that my conversations with @BrothaJamesWolf have always been very civil, even friendly.  

It wasn't until I reached this sentence that I concluded that his understanding and experience of trans people and of our lives was perhaps, somewhat limited.
Here he is talking about an experience where he reacted badly to learning that the girl he had been flirting with online was trans:

"This young woman most likely didn’t know I was heterosexual just like I didn’t know she was really a man."

Again, I'm not entirely sure why, but my response to this was mostly to be perplexed.
I know a number of other trans people who I suspect would have felt pretty angry about this, for my part I consider myself fortunate to not take this sort of thing personally, so I wrote the following reply to the post.

Please do read all of the original post by the way, it's honest and intelligent and written with humility, even if it's author makes what I consider to be factual errors.

My Reply:

 As I read this I was struck by two things. One, it’s a powerfully written piece, the message of which is one we all need to learn again and again throughout our lives. The other of which is that while I trust your intent, I have to assume your understanding of trans identities and trans people’s lives has, up until now been fairly minimal. Most of us don’t take the time to look beyond our own lives unless forced to do so, I have a great deal of respect for the fact that you do make that effort. I also appreciate that fact that you’ve always shown me respect when we’ve chatted on twitter and that our conversation contributed to you taking the time to look a little deeper into lives outside of your experience.

I know I follow you because I value your candor and perspective on life. As a member of a minority group I’m well aware that some lived experiences can only be sympathized with, some things are too far from our own life to truly empathize, and given that I will never get to walk a mile in your shoes, I feel it’s my responsibility to at least listen to what you have to say about the world as you experience it, and if possible to learn something from you.

So on trans identity.

This sentence that you wrote seems like a good place to start unpacking things:

“This young woman most likely didn’t know I was heterosexual just like I didn’t know she was really a man”

When you say she likely didn’t know you were heterosexual I get the impression that your understanding of trans women is that we are a subset of gay men. That, had she of known you weren’t gay, she wouldn’t have made the mistake of flirting with you.
If you start from the position that trans women are in fact men, then that idea seems perfectly rational. It is, however, wrong for a number of reasons.

Firstly Sexual orientation and gender identity have nothing to do with each other. Trans women can be gay, straight or bi just like anyone else.

Secondly, biological sex and gender identity are independent.
As you state, you are a heterosexual male, you are also cisgendered.
Cisgender is that opposite of transgender, and just means that your internal sense of self matches up with the way the rest of the world sees you and the opinion of the doctor present at your birth in terms of what gender you understand yourself to be.
Now some people will make the claim that your external genitalia and your chromosomes dictate whether you are male or female but in the real world it’s not actually that simple.
Some people are born intersexed, that is, their external genitals are indeterminate at birth and that can happen for a number of reasons. They might have XXY, XYY, XXX or a whole range of other chromosomal variations that mean they can not be assigned to either the male or the female category with any certainty.
Stranger still, depending on how genes are expressed during fetal development, it is perfectly possible for a child born with XY chromosomes to never develop ANY male physical characteristics. There has even been one recorded instance of an XY female carrying a pregnancy to term and giving birth to a healthy child.
In short, biology is simply more complicated than most people realize and there is no meaningful or clear boundary between the sexes at the level of the individual.
As to gender, another non-scientific word, we have to understand that we are talking about two different things here as well.
Gender as a social construct reflects the way in which a given culture expects men and women to behave, and how that culture enforces those behavioral norms. It’s also something that changes over time as a cultures values change. I.e. Women can wear trousers today and no one thinks it’s strange, but 60 years ago it would have seemed very odd to most people.
By contrast, Gender Identity refers to one’s internal sense of whether you are male or female.
As a cisgendered male, your experience of gender identity is basically zero, in the same way that if you have perfect eyesight you experience of being colorblind is zero. Gender identity is simply not something you have the capacity to be aware of unless, for some reason it doesn’t match up to your physical body. By contrast, those of us who are transgendered experience the very disconcerting sensation that we do not have the correct body.
For many of us, this sensation is so string, so overwhelming that the only way we can make our lives livable is to do everything possible to change our bodies to reflect who we know we are inside. That is why, as I’m typing this, I am in quite a lot of pain because yesterday i paid a doctor $3000 to make an incision in my throat, and carefully cut away as much cartilage as possible from my adams apple to remove the bump there.
Please take a second to feel you throat, put your fingers on that bump of cartilage and actually think about that. What would drive someone to do that if it was medically unnecessary? When, for them, $3000 is a small fortune?

Which gets me back to the most important point here, that girl who flirted with you wasn’t “really a man” she IS really a woman. To say that she’s a man because a doctor made that decision at birth doesn’t actually stand up to intellectual rigor. Common wisdom is often anything but wise, and just because most of the time you can look between a baby’s legs and get it right, doesn’t automatically make it right every time.

Now, where does that put you and your heterosexuality?
Sadly the answer is “at risk”
That is, in a society where being gay or lesbian or especially being trans are considered to be sick, wrong, morally abhorrent behaviors, clearly associating with such people creates an avenue for others to question your hetero status.
I don’t need to go further into that because after all, that was the point of the post to which I am responding. You obviously understand that.
But you do still seem to think that trans women are men, and that is a problem.

I am not a man, I am a woman. I also happen to be transgendered. In another $40,000 or so, not even a doctor will be able to tell you I was born male.
I’m also pretty attractive. If a hetero guy is attracted to me, that doesn’t make him gay. If I wanted to have sex with gay guys, trust me, I could have stayed male bodied and had plenty of it. As it is now, gay guys are far less likely to be attracted to me than the straight ones are.
Which is good. Because I’m not a gay man and I gave no interest in having a relationship with a gay man.
Personally, I’m attracted to people who see me as I see myself, that is a bisexual transgender woman.
Of course, there are a lot of people who simply can’t or won’t believe that I’m a woman and honestly I don’t care to much so long as they keep that opinion to themselves and don’t try to murder me, assault me of lobby to have my human rights taken away.
I get that for some people, my medical history makes the idea of dating me a no go. That makes me sad, but I’m not going to tell them they should feel other than the way they do because, frankly, they can’t.
We don’t have control over our emotions in that way, and to expect you or anyone else to read this, and suddenly have some moment of epiphany is unrealistic, but the pervasive notion that I am really a man is a big problem because it creates the story that I’m out to trick people and that simply isn’t true.
I’m out to live my life, like everyone else I hope to meet nice people whom I can have meaningful relationships with.
Generally I disclose my trans status pretty quickly and openly because to not do so puts my life at risk, but just like any other girl I like to go out to the club , have a few drinks and dance with friends. If some guy decides he want’s to hit on me I’m not about to tell him right there and then that I’m trans because to do so puts me at risk. At the very least it can lead to a confrontation where my night is ruined, at worst it can result in physical violence.
As a trans person, if I choose not to disclose that fact, it isn’t because I’m trying to sneak into some guys pants.
I personally don’t like playing Russian roulette, and the idea of having sex with someone who might literally decide to murder me if they learn that I’m trans is terrifying.
Honestly it would be a whole lot better if those people who, for whatever reasons (I won’t judge, really), prefer not to date trans people would go around wearing a “no trans please” T-shirt or something. That would take a lot of stress out of my life.

So to recap.
Trans women are women. They are not “really men”
Same goes for trans men but in reverse.
My pronouns are “She” and “Her” on account of how I’m a woman, not a man.

“Transgender” is never a noun – I am a transgender woman, or trans woman, I am not “a transgender”. I wouldn’t refer to you as “a black” and I appreciate the same in return.

Also, please note that I wrote this response while recovering from surgery and a little dopey from the painkillers. I’m happy to clarify further if anything i wrote is unclear.

----------------------------------------------------

It's a bit of a rambling explanation because I honestly didn't know where to start.  
How do you begin to explain a concept like what it means to be transgender to someone who thinks of you as a man?
I touched on a few different points but in the end left feeling my response was fragmented and inadequate.  
I'd wanted to say more, but what was most pertinent?  Where would I stop?

Having re-read my response however, I've realized that the focus of this conversation, and more broadly on the problems of patriarchy as a whole, needs to be on male sexuality.
It seems strange to me, that while much of the feminist debate I follow addresses issues of human rights and how living n a patriarchal society negatively impacts various groups of people, there is little conversation concerning how or why it is that almost all human societies came to be patriarchal in the first place*.

Which is what I'll get into in some depth in my next post.

*I'm not implying that nothing has been written on this topic, only that in all the blogs and conversations I have read, I have not encountered it.