“I love my trans boyfriend” (photo by Gustavo Thomas).
Sarah E. Belawski and Carey Jean Sojka
OUR RELATIONSHIPS COME IN ALL SHAPES AND SIZES. Some of us are interested in dating casually, while others of us have met a lifelong partner. We live and love like everyone else, but being trans can also add some unique joys and challenges to our relationships—and sometimes both at the same time.
We have an incredible amount of diversity in our relationships. We start relationships before, during, and after we come out as trans or start to transition. We have straight relationships, same-gender relationships, queer relationships, monogamous relationships, polyamorous relationships, and nonsexual relationships. Some of us are married or have domestic partnerships, while others of us do not want or cannot attain legal recognition of our relationships. There is no one model for our relationships. However, there are basic strategies we can use to ensure that our relationships are healthy for us and our partners.
“I love my trans boyfriend” (photo by Gustavo Thomas).
For those of us who are dating or would like to be dating, there are many steps to finding the types of relationships we desire. For some of us, out trans identities may not really affect our dating relationships any more than other aspects of ourselves. Others of us may believe that we are unattractive or not worthy of our potential partners. We may wonder whether the people attracted to us are attracted for the right reasons. We may need to learn new ways of interacting in dating cultures as we transition and figure out with ourselves how to approach disclosing our trans status to potential partners.
One of the first issues we often confront as trans people is our self-esteem and sense of our own attractiveness. Having a trans body is not seen as the norm, and we sometimes internalize society’s judgments about our bodies and see our trans identity as a negative aspect of ourselves. It can be difficult to allow ourselves to seek out the partners we desire if we do not see ourselves as attractive.
If we enter into a relationship without a healthy self-image, that relationship is starting at a disadvantage. Communicating to a partner that we are ashamed of ourselves or that we are not worthy of love can make those who are hoping to start healthy relationships with us feel uncertain about how to treat us.
We may spend a significant amount of time and effort working to build our self-esteem and still be faced with the fact that many people are not open to dating someone trans. This can be very hurtful, and it can lead us to feel alone and isolated.
Despite all the negative stereotypes about trans people, there are many people who are attracted to trans bodies, and many of us find loving, secure, and sexually fulfilling relationships. Even if we are not having good luck with romantic relationships, there are many ways we can build our self-esteem so that when we find the kind of person we are interested in dating, we will be ready to accept their affection. These include spending time with friends who value us and rewarding ourselves for the hard work it takes to spend every day being who we are.
As trans people, we may have a hard time meeting partners, as being trans can limit the spaces in which we can find people who will potentially be interested in us. We may not be able to meet potential partners as easily as others can through spaces where people share interests, beliefs, politics, or even sexual orientation.
One way that we may look to meet partners is through traditional means such as going out to bars or getting to know people through work or school. This has the advantage of capturing a wide net of people who could potentially be a good fit for us. It also means that the people we meet may not be aware of our trans identity, and we may have to navigate when and how to disclose this information to them.
Others ways of finding potential partners include specifically seeking out trans-attracted people or dating within transgender or LGBTQ spaces. These also have their advantages and disadvantages.
Seyi Adebanjo & Ni’Ja Whitson (photo by Seyi Adebanjo).
There are some people who are specifically attracted to trans people. Some call themselves transamorous or transensual, while others refer to themselves as trans-attracted people. Sometimes these people are dismissed as “tranny chasers.” Particularly for transfeminine people, there is a history of fetishization of our bodies. Some transmasculine people question the interest of those who only date transgender men and not cisgender men, because they feel that these boundaries attempt to reinforce the negative image that trans men are not “real” men. Both of these situations carry negative consequences for the sexual and romantic autonomy of trans people, and the term “tranny chasers” is often used as a derogatory term that reflects these problematic histories.
A person with a particular attraction to a trans body should not necessarily be dismissed as someone with a fetish. We are often bombarded with messages that our bodies are less desirable than cis bodies, but trans bodies are just as good as other bodies—saying that there is something wrong with being attracted to trans bodies is the same as saying there is something wrong with having a trans body. In this light, it is not a problem to be attracted to trans people per se—it becomes negative when those attracted to us do not see us as whole people with unique desires or do not respect our own ways of defining and understanding ourselves.
“My partner was already in transition when we met. Although she first introduced herself to me as a man, she admitted within the first few minutes of our conversation that she was, in fact, trans. The idea excited me. I had wanted to have a sexual experience with a trans woman for a long time . . . My partner is a beautiful, loving person with a good head on her shoulders. The fact that she is trans, while making her more attractive to me initially, is largely irrelevant in our day to day lives.”*
A person who is particularly attracted to our bodies, or even exclusively attracted to trans bodies, should be held to the same standards as someone particularly or exclusively attracted to other gendered bodies. A healthy relationship involves our partners loving us in a holistic way that values who we are and not just what we are.
Katka Showers-Curtis (photo by Enrique Centeno).
Katka Showers-Curtis
(inspired by Pat Parker’s “For the white person/who wants to know/how to be my friend”)
The first thing you should do is forget that I’m Trans*.
Then, you must never forget that I’m Trans*.
Get comfortable with the word
“cis.”
Remember that when the oppressor can name the oppressed
but the oppressed cannot name the oppressor,
oppression wins.
Read Trans* theory, and let’s talk about it, but don’t expect me
to teach you everything you need to know about being Trans*.
You say Trans* identity is a “new concept,”
but I promise, you can find Thomas Beattie, S. Bear Bergman,
Kate Bornstein, Patrick Califia, Eli Clare, Leslie Feinberg,
Jamison Green, Jack Halberstam, Mara Keisling, Joy Ladin, Ashley Love,
Miss Major, Janet Mock, Pauline Park, Sylvia Rivera, Monica Roberts,
Julia Serano, Dean Spade, Sandy Stone, Susan Stryker,
and countless others
with a simple click of a mouse.
When you’ve done this,
ask what being Trans* means to me,
but know you must ask
every person who identifies as Trans*
what it means to them. Even then,
know that not everyone can give you a full answer,
and that that answer may change with time.
We are a community,
but none of us identifies exactly like another,
and shit changes.
And if some Trans* person
expects you
to be accountable for your actions,
reminds you
of the proper use of their pronouns,
scoffs
when you call them a “pronoun Nazi,”
or is just being an ass,
please,
do not tell me I am
“different”
or “better than” that person.
It makes me wonder if you see your own
cissexism
and transphobia,
and I will wonder if you really see me.
And even if you truly believe Trans* lovers are the “best
of both worlds,” don’t tell me.
Instead, learn to respect our bodies and minds.
In other words—
if you really want to be my friend—
take initiative to learn
what it might mean to be Trans*,
and ask what it means to me,
but don’t go out of your way
to tell me what a great job you’re doing.
I see it. Remember.
Partnering with someone who shares many of the same experiences of being trans and going through transition can reduce some of the stress associated with dating. Other trans people are more likely than cis people to have a reference point in understanding some of our potential insecurities. The increasing visibility of trans movements and the creation of trans-specific spaces, as well as the rise of the Internet, have greatly increased our ability to find and connect with other trans people. We cannot assume that other trans people will always understand our experiences, but finding and partnering with other trans people can create a greater likelihood that our partner “gets it.”
“Well I’m bigendered, and she’s mtf, and she’s the only one I’ve come out to and that means the world to me. She’s so supportive and we lean on each other. We understand each other.”
“Now, my fiancé and I are together, and we’re both trans. It’s amazing in so many ways! I feel more relaxed, much safer emotionally, and more at home with her than I ever did ‘dating out’ with cisgender people. Some of that, I’m sure, has to do with emotional growth and personal changes I’ve made over the years. But there are things that just don’t end up being an issue that needs to be navigated when your partner is also trans.”
The Yahoo group Transcouplesmtfftm discusses relationships between people who are both transgender or genderqueer.
Some of us may never have dated in queer communities and may not be interested in doing so. However, others of us have participated in queer communities before, during, and after a transition, and we may continue to seek relationships in these spaces. While many queer spaces can be safe and welcoming for us as trans people, not all LGBQ spaces are trans-friendly—in fact, a lot of transphobia, trans exoticization, and trans invisibility can occur in these spaces and can potentially negatively influence our dating experiences.
“It seems as if many queer women’s communities are accepting of trans guys in their communities, and are accepting of the women who date them. But the acceptance and welcoming that is there if I date a trans man largely vanishes if I date a cis man. So what is this really saying? It seems to me that it’s saying that a trans man is not actually a man, and this is deeply problematic. Queer communities have a long way to go, still, in fully accepting, welcoming, and understanding bisexual and trans people, and not just paying lip service to it. Another example of this is how few trans women you’ll see in queer women’s communities, and how often trans women feel unwelcome and hurt by queer women. This is trans misogyny, and it is androcentrism, and we need to examine it in our lives and communities if we ever hope to truly make progress.”
Our relationships (Elenore Toczynski).
Despite some of these challenges, many queer spaces are trans inclusive. Many trans women find women partners and trans men find men partners in queer spaces. Sometimes we also find partners of other genders in queer spaces. For instance, some trans men prefer to date queer-identified or lesbian-identified women. This can be confusing for others to understand, but queer spaces can sometimes leave more room for these seeming contradictions.
There are some spaces that are not specifically trans or queer but that have an increased likelihood of trans inclusion. Multiple cultures exist that not only condone but encourage gender variance. An example of this is how femininity is valued in both men and women in goth culture. Many trans women have found that goth culture gives us a nonjudgmental space in which to experiment with our gender expression. Someone assigned male can feel comfortable entering such a space wearing makeup, skirts, and fishnets. In such a space where the rules of normative gender expression are suspended, we are less likely to encounter harassment. Other examples of subcultures that are not specifically queer, but where queer themes have been a long-existing influence, are punk culture and anime culture. In spaces like these, we may find increased inclusion and acceptance that can influence our dating experiences.
When we transition, we may notice that our transition to a different gender impacts how other people relate to us. This happens in casual but also intimate relationships. We may or may not change how we act during a transition, but people may change how they act toward us because of gendered norms and expectations. For instance, transmasculine people may start to find that our partners expect us to initiate more in the relationship, from being the one to ask someone else on a date to initiating sexual intimacy. Transfeminine people may notice that others expect us to take up less space in conversations or that other people may invade our personal space more often. These changes may be minor or more major. In either case, it can be important to be aware of how people may change in their interactions with us and how this influences our own dating experiences.
“I guess that since transitioning, with women, I felt at first a lot of pressure to ‘perform.’ Be The Man. Always be hard and ready, always be the top. I think those expectations were largely in my head. A lot of this pressure would have probably resolved with more sincere and open communication, queer pride, and readiness to laugh at myself. My partners were great and probably weary of gender roles themselves. What I didn’t understand was that as a guy, trans or cis, I’m almost always less vulnerable than she is when we’re entering a new sexual dynamic, even if I feel insecure. It took a while for the privilege to kick in, like until I started doing what I was ‘supposed’ to do in my new gender. Women will flirt with me and I’d try to be a ‘gentleman’ and ‘safe’ by not being sexual at all. I was afraid to be a perpetrator. They’ll have their boobs intentionally in my face, and I’d be like, ‘I am looking in your eyes!!’ Then when I finally did ‘get the clue’ and hook up with women, I realized, we’d reenact a power dynamic where I get to enjoy and benefit from both the high sexual desirability of queer guys and the lack of sensitive and safe masculine people to hook up with. Women still need to have such low expectations, and endurance, just to get laid. Like it’s really outstanding if I’m not a complete jerk. And that is not quite the feminist sex we tried to have. We need to challenge sexual hierarchy to be able to share really good sex with each other.”
“Cori and Max, reversed couple, Atlanta” (copyright Mariette Pathy Allen).
For some of us, we are not necessarily read as trans in public, and we may not be in private either. When we are forming new relationships, we have to decide for ourselves when (or if) to disclose our trans status to potential partners.
“I’ve had lots of sexual and intimate relationships. Some of them I don’t disclose, some of them I do. . . it depends on what I’m looking for.”
For many of us, our identity as trans is just as large a part of our core being as our gender identity, and it may be very important to us that a potential partner understand our trans identity and experiences. We may be left feeling that a part of ourselves is missing from a relationship if we do not disclose.
The “if and when” of disclosure depends entirely on our personal comfort. We are not being dishonest about who we are if we do not choose to out ourselves as trans to everyone we date. The expectation that we must out ourselves to every potential partner or that we are otherwise being dishonest is problematic. If trans people are expected to disclose their trans status at the beginning of a relationship and no equivalent expectation exists for cis people, a cissexist power dynamic is created. If an individual self identifies as female and is seen by their prospective partner as female, then there is no incongruence between who they are and how they are perceived and therefore no act of dishonesty.
For some of us, our physical bodies are completely aligned with the typical external sex characteristics of our identified sex or gender. In such a case the choice not to disclose is entirely valid, even in a long-term relationship. However, if we engage in a relationship with an expectation of physical intimacy and our bodies differ from what may be assumed by a reading of our outward presentation, then disclosure of a trans identity can be important for our own safety. It is up to us to decide for ourselves whether it is right, when it is right, and how it is right for us to disclose our trans identity to our partners.
We must remember, though, that the longer we wait to disclose, the more deeply involved we might be in a relationship before learning how our partner handles our trans history. The timing can be tricky, and as a result, some of us develop clear guidelines for ourselves as we gain experience in the sphere of dating.
“If I want to see someone a second time, I disclose on the first date. I’ve learned that the earlier, the better for my emotional well-being because the relationship is so new. And even if she responds very positively, I tend not to ‘make a move’ unless she does on the first date—because the reality of physical intimacy with a trans person for the first time can be overwhelming or intimidating even for supportive cisgender people. By the second date, she has gotten the chance to process on her own, and I have protected myself from being (unintentionally) dragged through her emotional process.”
“I generally don’t tell people until I know we are going to sleep together. At that point, I’ve gotten a good sense for how they will likely react and don’t allow relationships to develop if I think the person will react poorly. In 13 years, I’ve only had one bad reaction and he later apologized.”
The “how” of disclosure can be challenging in the moment as well. It is helpful to keep in mind that many people, trans and cis alike, experience the burden of disclosure when they start getting to know a potential partner. We might not be the only one on the date who is worried about disclosing certain personal information, even information that pertains to physical intimacy such as fetishes, aspects of the body that are different than expected, or HIV status or other chronic illness. Some of us make our disclosure light hearted.
“I’ve found that the more comfortable I am with my trans history when I’m disclosing, and the less nervous I seem, the more comfortable my date is. I say that it’s shaped who I am in many ways, and I want the other person to know and ask me about it—but it’s not a negative thing. I’ve had many dates where my disclosure has opened up an entirely new realm of conversation and has put my date at ease about sharing aspects of themselves with me.”
Sometimes we are pleasantly surprised by dates who have already dated trans people, or who have a strong foundation of trans-awareness, or who are even trans themselves. Other times, we find ourselves having to teach Trans 101 to a date who has no reference point for or experience with trans identities. In these cases, we can engage however we feel most comfortable. Some of us are happy to answer a slew of questions, while others of us might share some basics but then suggest that deeper conversations about the topic wait until future dates. All we can really do is to approach a potential disclosure with a sense of what we want to communicate (and how) and be prepared for the various possible responses.
Safety should always be a top priority. While it can be difficult at times to work up the courage to disclose, it can be dangerous to keep this information from someone who might discover it while we are alone with them and vulnerable to being physically hurt. Leaving our trans status to a partner to discover in the heat of the moment can be awkward at best and dangerous at worst.
Our status as trans can constitute a significant factor in our relationships, but it is far from the only variable in effect. Our sexual orientation, attractions, kinks, and potential desires for multiple partners are among the aspects of ourselves that can affect our dating lives.
Many of us have spent a significant portion of our lives in an identity that does not suit us, and find that with a better understanding of ourselves, we are not ready to be with a single person. We may have a desire to experience a variety of different types of relationships with a variety of people in order to find what is right for us. There are also some of us for whom having multiple partners is not an experimental period but a core part of our sexuality.
Trans/Love cover (copyright 2011, Manic D Press. Cover painting, “Embrace” by David Van Everen copyright 2009. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission of publisher).
For some people, the process of transition opens up many new questions and interests in different kinds of partnerships. An open relationship may be a helpful way to maintain a loving partnership with someone we were with before transition, while allowing us to explore new parts of ourselves. Navigating opening up a monogamous relationship can be complicated, and it is important to work together to ensure that everyone’s needs continue to be met through the process. We must also be able to recognize incompatibility with a partner if one member truly needs an open relationship while the other functions best in a closed monogamous partnership.
Start your exploration of nonmonogamous relationships with The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy (Berkeley, CA: Celestial Arts, 1997, 2009).
Polyamory—relationships that are consensually open to sexual and/or romantic relationships with others—can be even more complex and requires significant cooperation and communication. If you are interested in creating a healthy polyamorous life, you should seek out specific resources in order to do this, as it is beyond the scope of this book.
Asexuality can have many varied definitions depending on who you ask, but it generally refers to those of us who do not have or are not interested in sexual relationships. Some of us prefer not to have sexual relationships in our lives. We may or may not desire romantic relationships. Some of us who are asexual may enjoy the benefits of intimate relationships without sex.
“I’m in a committed relationship with another trans* person now, and it’s completely different from any other relationship I’ve ever been in. It was hard at first, because I’m used to playing by very traditional rules, and that’s not appropriate for what we have. We both identify as asexual, so the physical component of our relationship is limited. It’s also not a traditionally romantic relationship; any romantic aspect at all is more in the context of a romantic friendship. We’re open to including other people in the relationship if that ever became a possibility, and to having a considerable amount of freedom in terms of being able to see other people individually. But we are committed to staying together, to supporting one another, and to working as an actual partnership. It’s the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in, and the most honest.”
Some of us who are not asexual temporarily opt out of sexual relationships while we are adjusting to our identity. We may wish to wait until after a physical transition to begin a relationship that could include sexual intimacy because we feel we will be more comfortable with our body then. Others of us may fear the reaction of a potential partner toward either our gender identity or our body.
“I don’t see a relationship in my future anytime soon. Right now, I feel like I am going through puberty all over again. I have to get comfortable in my body and gender presentation before I can even think about involving someone else.”
Some of us are in committed relationships. They may have begun before, during, or after our transition. They may be extremely healthy or may have problematic power dynamics. Many of our relationships have significant challenges, and we have to learn how to communicate well and respect our partners in order to have fulfilling and lasting partnerships.
Healthy relationships are not always easy; they often take work. Healthy relationships are those in which we respect our partners and are respected by them. There are a number of ways to create respectful relationships.
Setting boundaries with our partners can contribute to healthy relationships. Our boundaries may relate to our own emotional health. For instance, we may want our partners to understand when and how we can talk about particular issues. We may have certain situations in which we are happy being out about our transgender identity, and others in which we want our partners to understand that we would prefer not to be. Boundary setting is a mutual process, as our partners may also have similar needs around their own boundaries. Boundaries can change from day to day, and respecting these changes is important for our relationships.
We can also nurture healthy relationships through constructive communication with our partners. If we approach our relationships with the intention of fostering open communication between ourselves and our partners, we are able to be more honest about what we want from a relationship, and we can also better respond to our partners’ needs and desires. Fostering communication does not mean that we will never argue with our partners—disagreement can be a positive way to clarify our own needs in relation to those of our partners.
“I began a relationship with the person who is still my partner after socially transitioning but before physically transitioning. We’ve been able to maintain the relationship by being open, honest, and respectful of one another. My transsexuality has been less of an issue than other challenges.”
Allison Vogt, LBSW, advocates for LGBT victims and survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, hate crimes, and human trafficking through direct services, advocacy, and education for the Montrose Center in Houston, Texas. Her blog, Ask Allie, is popular among teens requesting healthy relationship advice.
Boundaries help us feel good, and they keep us feeling good. Boundaries are simply what we say we are and are not willing to do. Trans people are often thought of as being not as valuable as cis folks. Trans folks mistakenly feel we should not or do not have as many boundaries as others and think our body is open season for questions, grabbing, and viewing. This should never be the case—even with our friends, family, and partners. We should never feel that a friend of ours won’t be our friend if we don’t do exactly what they want when they want it.
To set our boundaries, we have to be consistent. When something feels uncomfortable, we have to say it despite the real and perceived consequences—like embarrassment or losing a friend. If we allow people to make us feel uncomfortable and are afraid to say so, we are setting ourselves up to have them do it again. The more they do it, and the more we don’t say what our feelings are, the harder it will be to set the boundary in the future.
To set your boundaries, know what they are. If you are uncomfortable with friends who expect you to go out every time they want to go out, that is your boundary; ask your friend to give you a day’s heads up. If you are uncomfortable with your partner touching your chest, tell your partner you find that weird, but that you do like it when they touch your [fill in the blank with what you like]. Setting boundaries will keep us from resenting the people in our lives and will garner respect—and we all deserve that.
Healthy relationships are a continuous process. There can be difficult times that we work through. We may sometimes find ourselves in relationships that are harmful to us or to our partners.
Intimate partner violence (IPV) involves abuse that occurs in our intimate, romantic, or sexual relationships. Abuse in a relationship can include verbal abuse such as put-downs, physical abuse such as hitting or shoving, financial abuse such as withholding or controlling finances, emotional abuse such as threatening or intimidating, and sexual abuse such as forcing or coercing sexual encounters. The term intimate partner violence is similar to domestic violence. However, it includes not only abuse between people who live together but also abuse that occurs between people in relationships who are not living in the same place.
Argument (Elenore Toczynski).
The power and control wheel is a model that has been used to illustrate the ways that IPV can function. Power and control are at the center of abuse—the hub of the wheel of IPV is the idea that one person can and should have power and control over someone else. Within the spokes of the wheel, there are many aspects of abuse that support physical and sexual abuse and systematic oppressions. The spokes include things like intimidation, economic abuse, and emotional abuse. The outside of the wheel is what keeps the wheel rolling—the violence we experience in our society through transphobia and other forms of oppression such as racism, classism, and sexism, which also contribute to violence within our relationships.
Trans power and control wheel (adapted by Carey Jean Sojka from the Power and Control Wheel created by the Domestic Abuse Intervention Project in Duluth, Minnesota).
Historically, there has been a backlash against discussing IPV in many marginalized groups. IPV is too often seen as something that contributes to negative stereotypes that are already oppressive. In many communities of color, there has been a backlash because of the fear that openly discussing violence, particularly violence against women in heterosexual relationships, will be used by others to perpetuate negative and false stereotypes about men of color as violent or sexually aggressive. These stereotypes have historically, and even today, been used to oppress communities of color. However, many women of color still speak out about violence in their attempts to end it and to provide support for those who experience it.
In lesbian, gay, and bisexual communities, we have seen a parallel pattern. While it stems from different causes, in the end, it has also led to silencing around issues of intimate partner violence. Many gay and bisexual men have been afraid to speak out about IPV because of the assumption that men cannot be the ones who are abused, and many lesbians and bisexual women have been afraid to speak out because a woman does not fit the typical profile of an abuser. On top of that, some lesbian, gay, and bisexual people fear that public acknowledgment of IPV in same-gender relationships will only perpetuate negative and false stereotypes that lesbian, gay, and bisexual people cannot form healthy, lasting relationships.
Getting Help With Intimate Partner Violence
National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1−800−799−SAFE (7233)
Gay Men’s Domestic Violence Hotline (for all LGBTQ people): 1–800–832–1901
GLBT National Hotline (can call about issues other than IPV as well): 1–888–843–4564
As trans people, we can be vulnerable to specific types of abuse. Something an abusive partner may threaten to do is stop paying for hormones or claim that we are not a “real man” or a “real woman.” An abusive partner may threaten to out us to our friends, family, coworkers, or community. These tactics work over time to diminish our sense of self-worth.
Trans people can be abusers, too. Some people who are abusive partners and also trans will use emotional abuse to threaten a cis partner with exclusion from trans communities, or act out against a cis partner and then claim that if their partner were really a trans ally, they would understand how hard it is to be trans and excuse the abusive behavior. Our hormones and our transitions should never be an excuse for abuse—it can be easy to shift blame for abuse onto the stresses of transition.
Intimate partner violence happens in our communities, too. Check out the book The Revolution Starts at Home: Confronting Intimate Violence Within Activist Communities by Ching-In Chen, Jal Dulani, and Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha (Brooklyn, NY: South End Press, 2011).
If you are someone who is in an abusive relationship, there are a number of things you can do.
1. Find help. You may wish to speak with a therapist or contact an organization, such as a local organization that works against intimate partner violence or a national hotline. It can be helpful to have a list of organization phone numbers available in case you need them. Contacting these organizations can provide a place for you to discuss your experiences with someone who understands, and they can help you to figure out your options.
2. Consider who your allies are. Who are the people in your life, such as friends, family members, or neighbors, who you can trust and who will support you?
3. Create a plan for what you would do if you need to get out, even if you are not currently planning on leaving the relationship. Think about things such as where you would go, who could lend you money, what you would need to do about your children, and who would take care of your pets. You may also wish to have a packed bag with essential items handy and hidden so that you could leave at a moment’s notice if necessary.
If you have a friend who you think might be in an abusive relationship, there are many ways you can help. First, never underestimate the power of listening. Having someone to listen in a nonjudgmental way can be very helpful for a person in an abusive relationship. Second, try to avoid giving advice about what they should do, even if your friend asks for it. A person in an abusive relationship may already be accustomed to not having choices, and one of the most empowering things can be for them to be able to make choices for themselves. Instead of giving advice, you can offer options and resources instead. Help them brainstorm about the possibilities they have. Do some research for your friend to find the contact information for a local, trans-friendly nonprofit working to end IPV or find the number of a 24-hour hotline. Even if your friend leaves their abusive relationship, be prepared for them to potentially return. Many people return to their abusive partner at least once after leaving, some many more times than that. The most important thing for you to do is to support your friend through their choices, and to be there to listen to and support them when they need it again. Each time someone leaves an abusive relationship, it can help to empower them to eventually leave for good.
For those of us in relationships prior to identifying as or coming out as trans, they may be strong relationships that we want to continue as we transition. Some of us may already be out to our partners in some way before we tell them everything we understand about our identities. For others of us, our partners may not be as prepared.
Justus and Johnnie (copyright Mariette Pathy Allen).
Will everyone you ever meet or love
Be just a relationship based on a false presumption?
—Laura Jane Grace of Against Me!
In general, our relationships are healthier if we are treated the way we identify. The stress associated with pretending to be something other than ourselves can be a hindrance to healthy communication and connection. There is a wide spectrum of how out we may be to a partner before transition. Some of us voice to our partners a discomfort with adhering to traditional gender roles, or we act in ways around our partners that communicate an androgynous or ambiguous style without voicing a trans identity. Others of us disclose our intent to transition to our partners even if we are not ready to do so yet or if barriers exist that prevent transition. Even if we are not able to fully transition, being out on some level to someone we are close to can have the potential to strengthen bonds and even help us move forward with transition.
“I have just started transitioning and have been married for a year. My husband has been very supportive of me being whatever I feel I should be. He is fine with me being a male and even admitted to his own gender-fluid state when I came out to him. I know that I’m extremely lucky to have him. I have previously been in a relationship where I was afraid to ever disclose my trans identity because he couldn’t accept me as I was. My husband has been a phenomenal source of support in me discovering myself and allowing me to express myself in whatever way works best for me as a person, not what society expects me to be.”
Announcing to the people in our life our identity, our desire to transition, or that we have already begun the transition process is an act of bravery and honesty. Disclosing our status as trans, or communicating that our presentation is not aligned with our identity and we do not have a strong connection to our assigned birth sex, can potentially end a relationship, greatly strengthen the connection with our partner, or fall somewhere between.
Aja Worthy Davis is a bureaucrat and blogger based in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. She has a degree from Pace University, a wonderful partner, and an obsession with high fantasy.
I wasn’t supposed to be this person. Not yet. I wasn’t supposed to be the one planning a wedding with their long-term partner, with a mortgage and two cats that are perpetually on the verge of murdering each other, and larger family responsibilities. Me, the noncommittal bisexual (the stereotypes exist for a reason).
I was supposed to travel, and get a graduate degree in something ridiculous, and have overly emotional but hollow affairs with older men that didn’t work out because I’m pretty romantically queer and politically black and other things that tend not to work in the long term with intellectual and crotchety white men. In all fairness, I have done some of those things. But here I am, a few years shy of 30, and a few months away from being the wife of a guy I’ve known and loved since I was 15. Back when he was a girl. We are what happens when Pariah’s Alike and the flighty femme she fell for get older and try to make a go of it.
Are we still on for dinner? I text him. We had planned on meeting at my Downtown Brooklyn office, where I’d lug my newly altered wedding gown in order to meet him halfway between his Eastern Brooklyn workspace and whatever restaurant we’re going to drive to. The reason I’m unsure of his commitment to the date is because we went to sleep last night after rehashing an argument that’s become so routine it’s at the top of the list of issues we’ll be discussing in our upcoming premarital therapy sessions.
It basically goes like this—I am not sure I want kids. Which would be fine, because as a teacher and a child therapist, he’s pretty emotionally spent dealing with other people’s kids. But the reason I’m not sure is because of him. I’m afraid of raising a kid—a son especially—with a trans man. I fear how a parent’s history of trauma and gender dysphoria will affect a kid. Even as I write that, I wish I weren’t so sure of the absolute truth in that statement, in the same way I am absolutely sure that he and I are made for one another.
I wish I didn’t know he’d make as great a father as he is a partner—other people’s children have literally told him, “I wish you were my father.” But most of all, I wish I wasn’t still a little bit of the selfish, stupid girl who always imagined she’d get a buffer-life before he and I came together. That buffer-life would include a marriage to a biological man. One who was kind and made me smile and was a great dad. He would teach our kids to play sports and navigate traditional masculinity, and hopefully would be okay with being with a woman who wasn’t in love with him. I wouldn’t have to think about feminism or racism or any -ism. I wouldn’t have to be me, which is so thoroughly fucking exhausting sometimes. We’d get divorced, of course, after the kids were adults. Then I’d go knocking on my Alike’s door, hoping for the chance to begin my life.
I look at all the older femmes in our community, many fresh out of the heterosexual marriages they settled for, and I get a full appreciation of how messed up a plan that is to have at 15. But it was my plan, because spending my whole life with a girl (and that’s what I saw my fiancé as at the time) actually seemed more terrifying a prospect than hoping to get a shot at happiness at 50.
I never know how to speak about his transition. It changed how the world sees us. But it didn’t change us at all. I am a born realist who tries to meticulously plan out every decision in her life—even the unplannable shit—yet at the same time I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. As the great Oprah would say, that constant waiting for something to go wrong or be incomplete is a self-fulfilling prophecy. I know that I’m incredibly lucky to get to be happy as me now, and not wait until I’m 50. I’m lucky to be healthy and alive and to be with him, who waited 10 years for me to be ready for us. And, obviously, I’m still a work in progress, on the kids issue and other things.
You know what’s right for you almost immediately. What takes time—years of time in my case—is letting go of all your internalized expectations and fears. Relinquishing the sense of absolute control over your life and trusting that everything will be okay. My fiancé is home to me. I don’t know if there’s anyone I could be a better parent or person with, because being this happy makes you want to be the best version of yourself. I was never the kind of girl who thought about her wedding day, but here I am watching those horrible bridal shows, truly excited to become his wife. Everything else—I’m willing to put on faith.
When we are in long-term relationships, our relationships are often known to others in our lives. As such, every time we out ourselves, we also out our partners, and vice versa. We may need to discuss with our partners whether we are comfortable being out as trans in various situations. We may be comfortable being out with our partner’s extended family but not with our work friends, and we need to be able to discuss and negotiate these differences.
We also need to consider whether or when our partners are comfortable being out, because every time we come out as trans, our partner is also outed as the partner of a trans person. At times our needs can conflict, with one partner wanting more or less visibility than the other. Our partners may even find themselves the targets of discrimination or violence. There is no simple answer when one person’s needs or safety are in conflict with another’s, but it is often possible to negotiate a comfortable and safe solution that will work for both people.
“I was married when I started my transition and I remained married. I think the most important thing that we did to maintain our relationship is talk about what was going on. I did not hide my questioning and my confusion over my gender from my partner. We talked, we shared reading materials, we wondered together what this all would mean for our relationship and our family. And we didn’t make any promises. As my transition became more real, we agreed that we’d try to stay together, but we relieved ourselves of our wedding vow to stay together no matter what. She returned to school to enhance her earning capacity just in case we broke up. We tried to prepare ourselves the best we could for the experience. And we realized that my transition was just one of the many transitions that happened to our family: we transitioned from a straight couple to a queer couple; my boys now had two ‘moms’ and no ‘dad’; my partner went from appearing straight to appearing gay. All of these things had to be explored and dealt with to move forward. And it’s ongoing.”
In addition, there are always outside influences on our romantic relationships. Our friends and families matter in the support they give to our relationships. Our communities matter, too; religious communities, racial and ethnic communities, queer communities, and so on, can all play a part in shaping our relationships. The challenge is to seek out the people in our communities that will support us and help us to build healthy relationships.
Helen Boyd, MA, is the author of My Husband Betty and She’s Not the Man I Married. She blogs at myhusbandbetty.com and teaches gender studies at Lawrence University.
Betty transitioned. Apparently we’ve forgotten to announce that officially. I can’t imagine anyone is surprised; looking back, I see chapter 5 of My Husband Betty as tea leaves neither of us wanted to read. But I wrote My Husband Betty seven years ago (and it’s still in print!), and that old joke says it only takes two years, right? Maybe that’s from cross-dresser to transsexual, because surely it takes more years than that to become a woman or a man. It certainly took me a few more than two to become a woman, and that was without any trans interference. (Sometimes, when someone asks me if I’m trans myself, I wonder if I ever did make it to “woman,” but for me, that’s a compliment, that all of my genders are showing.)
What we are, post transition, is more relaxed. That has something to do with our move from New York to Wisconsin, and something to do as well with us both having jobs we like. It may also have something to do with our being together for 12 years now. But hearing that other shoe drop, at long last, has brought us both relief as well.
We find it easier being perceived as a lesbian couple than as a trans couple. Granted, we “do” lesbian with our bizarre heterosexual privilege—by which I mean we are still federally recognized as legally married. I certainly don’t mean to imply it’s easier to be a lesbian couple; it’s not. It’s way harder than when we were seen as a somewhat eccentric het couple. But you do a lot less explaining at parties, and that’s a nice break. People know what lesbians are, even if, as in our case, the label isn’t wholly accurate. Mostly we don’t prefer to tell people Betty is trans; if they know, and have questions, we answer them when we’re in the appropriate time and place to do so, like in a private conversation and not at a party. But otherwise, I have no interest in outing her on a regular basis.
Often the question of whether or not to be out as trans rests upon the assumption that you’re either out or stealth. Yay, another binary! The reality is that there is a significant gray area. What has surprised us most is that the old advice—to move clear across the country—has its reasons. We did, but not as part of her transition plan. We did, and so we’ve reaped the benefits of being in a place where no one knew her as male, where no one knew us as het, where no one knew us before at all. That is, when we meet people now, they need only know us as a same-sex couple. Unlike many if not most trans people, Betty is undeniably out. Once someone asks me what I do, for instance, it is only a few short stops to “She used to be a man?” To preserve some of our privacy—and yes, even memoirists like some privacy—I usually tell people I write gender theory which invariably leads to one of two responses: (1) “Oh,” or (2) they actually want to know what I think of Lady Gaga’s/Caster Semenya’s gender, at which point the conversation turns away from me and onto cranky female athletes or Gaga’s little monsters. That is, the titles of my books don’t ever have to come up, which keeps me from outing Betty. One of the best parts of working in academia is having people assume they haven’t read your work.
What we’ve found is that the guy at the local equivalent of the 7–11 doesn’t need to know. We are often assumed to be friends, and not a couple, because of general LGBTQ invisibility, and I’m learning to live with that and all the heterocentric bullshit the world is steeped in. When someone’s head is still getting used to the idea of homosexuality, you don’t really want to hit them with The Trans, anyway. They’re not ready.
A friend of mine, both lesbian and trans, was once asked to talk to a student about being out. My friend promptly explained her experiences being out as trans, to which the slack-jawed undergrad responded, “I thought you were just a lesbian.”
So now we’re “just lesbians.” But is anyone “just a lesbian?” Every lesbian woman I know is a host of other things: parent, daughter, lawyer, trans, Asian, etc. We are not “just lesbians” either. We are something like post trans queers. Or I am, at least. I’m not really sure anymore.
The only sad thing for me is that I have lost my partner in crime. Betty is (quite frustratingly, some days) gender normative, trendy, and magazine feminine. I have to remind her not to flip her hair so much. I love her, but I still nurse a general dislike of normative femininity. I’m naturally suspicious of people who fit in. I assume I’ll get over it. You don’t really make it through transition as someone’s partner without having an awful lot of flexibility.
What I will say to the partners: my resolve to be her friend first, and her lover/wife second, was tantamount. We still worry that our friendship has replaced or supplanted our marriage, but I suspect that’s the kind of thing a lot of long-term relationships wrestle with. When it comes down to it, our journey, and my midwifery, has been an honor and a pleasure. It is a remarkable thing to watch someone go through gender transition and to help them do so. She has assisted me through a few life transitions, and we will, no doubt, see a few more in our lifetimes, and any and all of those changes can be a threat to a couple’s permanence and happiness. Her gender transition’s challenge to who we are as a couple was maybe more challenging than others, or maybe just more obvious in the ways it accessed axes of identity. But surely unhappiness, self-repression, and stagnation would destroy any relationship as easily and with far more bitterness and regret, and you know? Phooey to that.
Some people experience a shift in their sexual or romantic desires during a transition. Some of us experience changes in our libido, our interest in specific sexual practices, and even the types of people to whom we are attracted. It can be confusing to understand what our new desires mean for both our existing relationships and our future relationships.
For those of us who are in relationships, we may have many questions, such as: Can my partner help me fulfill my new sexual desires? What if they cannot or they are not interested? While there are no simple answers to these questions, one of the best things we can do is to be honest with ourselves and clearly communicate our feelings with our partners.
Many of our relationships thrive after disclosing our identity as trans or our intention to transition. However, not all of us find that our existing relationships are a good fit once we transition. Some of us find that our own desires change and no longer include our existing partner. For others of us, our partners’ desires do not include the new us. A partner who identifies as strictly homosexual or heterosexual may consider a transition to be a relationship ender. Our sexual orientation can be much more than an indication of our attractions. It can also be a core part of our identity, representing not only how we see ourselves but also the community with which we find comfort and how we want to be seen by others.
Support groups for people in relationships with trans people often use the acronym SOFFA, which stands for Significant Others, Friends, Family, and Allies of transgender people.
“My wife and I have been married for 16 years. I began my transition in our fifteenth year of marriage. My partner had suspected for some time, but has recently fully embraced being bisexual. This I believe is the single largest factor in keeping our marriage together, as we transition together from living as a heterosexual couple to living as lesbians. Our love is very strong, but I believe if she was not attracted to my feminine body that would erode over years. I’m very optimistic now that we will continue to have a strong romantic relationship for the rest of our lives.”
Resources for Partners of Trans People
A list of online resources for partners of trans people can be found at T-Vox, a wiki that maintains a list of various types of online support, including email lists, groups, and forums for partners of trans people. Partners of trans people also recommend:
• TMatesFTM Youtube channel
• Engender Yahoo Group
• FTM UK
• Forge Forward
• Depend Partners MTF
• Trans Family Couples and Trans Family
• Partners of TG livejournal group
There is often an expectation that supportive partners will still desire those of us who are transitioning in the same way as before our transition, but this can be an unfair expectation. Many relationships change during transition, including those with our romantic and sexual partners. Our partners may find that their sexual desire or identity no longer aligns with our gender. Expecting someone to alter a core aspect of their identity in order to accommodate us would be just as unreasonable as expecting us to refrain from transitioning to preserve the relationship.
“I have not begun transitioning, yet. I am married to a wonderful woman and when I told her, she was very loving about it. She told me she hurts for me having to hide this my entire life, wants the best for me, but. . . she doesn’t want to be around as she is not lesbian and does not want to be married to a woman. We are still together but I see our marriage ending sometime. That will hurt, thinking about that hurts my heart greatly.”
While we struggle with being our authentic selves, our partners have their own challenges and concerns, and they may need our support. Their lives often change as ours do. They may now need to be out to others as the partner of a trans person. They may wonder about their own identity as we disclose ours. It is good to keep in mind that, as we transition, it can be a whirlwind experience for our partners. We can give them support in the same ways we would like to have support: by listening without judging, asking questions, and making an effort to understand our partners’ perspectives and needs. It is also a great idea for partners to educate themselves about transitioning and what may be involved and seek support for themselves. There are many email lists, community groups, and resources where partners can share experiences, learn from one another, and discuss joys, fears, challenges, or frustrations.
“I was in a very intimate relationship when I started mentally and openly transitioning. My boyfriend at the time was very open-minded, but unsure at first, about my transition. We had lots of long conversations talking about different scenarios and timelines for my transition and our future together. I spent a lot of time sharing new information that I found with him and including him in my discovery process, and the more he knew the less unsure and scared he was. In the end he completely accepted me and started to mentally prepare himself for me to eventually come out to his family, and it actually helped him to reveal a part of himself that he hadn’t felt comfortable sharing with anyone before.”
The legal recognition of trans relationships is sometimes very simple and other times incredibly complex. Some of us get married legally, and some of us have other legal partnerships like domestic partnerships or civil unions. Some of us form partnerships without ever having the government recognize them—we make our commitments to each other public, whether this is with our friends, families, or religious communities.
How to be a Supportive Partner
As our partners, we may ask for support from you around our transition process. Support does not mean putting your own needs or desires aside for the sake of our transition. There are many other ways for our partners to support us. Supportive partners try to listen without judging, ask questions, and make an effort to understand our perspectives and our needs. Supportive partners validate our gender identities, whether it is as simple as using our chosen name and preferred pronouns, or as intimate as using our preferred words for bodies and sex acts during sexual moments. This does not mean that we expect you to always get it right, or even that you will still desire us in the same way as before our transition, but it does mean that we want you to show us that you value us for who we are. It can be supportive to accompany us to medical appointments or attend trans gatherings and conferences with us. We also understand that you may need to set boundaries for how much or in what ways you can support us, because a transition can sometimes be overwhelming for you, too.
Some of us do not prioritize public or legal recognition of our relationships. Whether or not we have legal recognition of our relationships, we may still want to consider additional legal protections such as health care visitation, second parent adoptions if we have children, or completing a will (see Chapter 10 for more information). Taking these extra steps can protect us not only from discrimination by people outside of our relationships but also from potential vulnerability if a relationship ends.
“Without knowing that anyone like you existed, I searched for you. And now that I’ve found you, I feel such relief to know that you are real. Now I want to know the wealth of your mind, body, and soul, the hell of being you in this world, and the joy that also comes from living outside simple lines. You ask me to marry you. ‘Yes’ is my answer. And I say yes to life. I say yes with my eyes wide open. . .. I marry you, and it is more than words or license or tax break, more than a church wedding or a white dress/tuxedo affair, more than a political statement, commitment ceremony, holy union. Marriage with you is life. You extend your hand to me. I step into your world and unite you to mine.” —Sonya Bolus
Timnah Steinman and Jay Williams (copyright Portraits to the People).
Relationships are about finding what fits for us and for our partners at any particular point in our lives. What we and our partners need and desire may change over time, even from one day to the next, but in the end, working toward mutual respect, open communication, and being true to ourselves can help us to create and maintain healthy, happy relationships of all kinds. No matter how we identify, our relationships have the possibility to contribute to our lives in meaningful and fulfilling ways. In all of our intimate relationships, we deserve to be valued and loved.
REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING
Bolus, S. (2002). “Loving Outside Simple Lines,” in GenderQueer: Voices from Beyond the Binary, edited by Joan Nestle, Clare Howell, and Riki Wilchins, pp. 113–119. Los Angeles, CA: Alyson Publications.
Boyd, H. (2007). She’s not the man I married: My life with a transgender husband. Emeryville, CA: Seal Press.
Califia, P. (2003). “The Invisible Gender Outlaws: The Partners of Transgender People,” in Sex Changes: The Politics of Transgenderism, edited by Califia, P., pp. 196–220. San Francisco, CA: Cleis Press.
Cromwell, J. (1999). Transmen and FTMs: Identities, Bodies, Genders, and Sexualities. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.
Diamond, M. (2011). Trans/Love: Radical Sex, Love & Relationships Beyond the Gender Binary. San Francisco, CA: Manic D Press.
Hardy, J. (2010). “The Old Folks at Home.” In Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, edited by Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman, pp. 47–51. Berkeley, CA: Seal Press.
Hines, S. (2007). TransForming Gender: Transgender Practices of Identity, Intimacy and Care. Bristol, UK: Policy Press.
Hubbard, E. A., & Whitley, C. T. (2012). Trans-kin: A guide for family and friends of transgender people. Boulder, CO: Bolder Press.
O’Keefe, T., & Fox, K. (2008). Trans People in Love. New York, NY: Routledge.
Pratt, M. B. (1995). S/HE. Ithaca, NY: Firebrand Books.
Sanger, T. (2010). Trans People’s Partnerships: Towards an Ethics of Intimacy. Palgrave Macmillan.
Valentine, D. (2006). “‘I Went to Bed with my Own Kind Once’: The Erasure of Desire in the Name of Identity,” in The Transgender Studies Reader, edited by Susan Stryker and Stephen Whittle, pp. 407–19. New York, NY: Routledge.
Varian, F. (2010). “Daddy Gets the Big Piece of Chicken,” in Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, edited by Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman, pp. 136–142. Berkeley, CA: Seal Press.
* Quotes in this chapter come from both the general Trans Bodies, Trans Selves online survey and from a survey of partners of trans people, also located on the Trans Bodies, Trans Selves website.