Hayley (Courtney Trouble).
Tobi Hill-Meyer and Dean Scarborough
SEXUALITY IS A FUNDAMENTAL PART OF OUR EXPERIENCES AS PEOPLE. It encompasses feelings of desire and connection, intimacy and arousal, power and control, comfort and soothing, and much more. Most cultures and communities have their own ideas about the kinds of sex we should or should not be having. These can range widely, but they often include beliefs that the shape of our genitals or the gender of our partner determines what we can and should do. The truth is that there is no such thing as a wrong way to have sex. The kind of sex we enjoy is the kind of sex we should be having.
Sex can be a touchy concept for many trans people. We are taught to feel shame, fear, and guilt about our bodies and sexualities. Like many cisgender people, we may also have negative feelings that our bodies are too fat, too thin, or not muscular enough. But humans come in all shapes and sizes, and there are people attracted to every kind of body that exists.
Our ability to have fulfilling sex is linked to accepting our feelings and desires as valid, and paying attention to the things that make us feel good about ourselves, as well as the things that do not. When we show care for our bodies, we may find that we become more respectful to ourselves about our feelings and desires. There are many ways to do this, from practicing self-affirmations or engaging in therapy to getting regular exercise or beginning medical or surgical transitions.
For some of us, accepting and loving our bodies may seem counterintuitive. We may feel that being uncomfortable with some of our body parts is central to our identity as a trans person. We may be pursuing surgical and medical transitions that are intended to radically alter the appearance of our bodies. However, our bodies are much more than our gendered parts. Our bodies are our home in the world, and learning to love and care for our bodies, even when (or because) they are imperfect, can be a powerful way to reject the negative messages we have received from others.
Hayley (Courtney Trouble).
One way many of us show our bodies love is by rewriting the language we use to describe them. Many of us have body parts that feel gendered in ways that do not match our sense of self. This can make it difficult for some of us to hear these body parts called by their standard names.
Choose your own Adventure
The kind of language that makes us feel good or bad about our genitals varies widely. This chapter has tried to balance the use of nontriggering language with the need for clear information about what body parts are being described. The goal is to help us and our partners be creative, find new ways to think about sex, and discover new ways of stimulating pleasure in our bodies, regardless of the anatomy that we have. If you do not like the words we have chosen, feel free to cross them out and replace them with the words that feel right for you.
“I find any reference to my genitals by male terms, any proposed stimulation of them in male terms, or any mention of my taking on a male role in any way to be vehemently repulsive. I will not engage in conversation or consider dating anyone who does so. I also will not date men saying they want ‘a girl with something extra, ’ want ‘a special girl, ’ or want ‘a chick with a dick.’”
Many of us create our own names for our body parts. For example, some of us born with a vagina may prefer to call it a “front hole” because this term is less gendered. Some of us create new words that are just ours, or that we share with our sexual partners. Others may use terms, such as “cock,” “clitoris,” or “vagina,” to refer to other parts of our bodies that we use or think about in these ways. For example, some of us who do not have a front hole may call our anus our vagina. For others, using clinical language is most comfortable because we feel it describes the body part that we have, not the gender we are.
“Actually, I have a very good relationship with my vulva. I’m fond of it, I guess. It doesn’t read as female to me—it reads as a body part that I happen to have, and that gives me a great deal of pleasure.”
Whatever we want to call our body parts is up to us. You might want to use different words in different contexts. Talking to medical providers and talking to lovers may call for different communication styles. We all approach naming our body parts in different ways. The words you choose are up to you. Find language that makes you feel good, use it, share it with partners, and have fun.
Dysphoria, or negative feelings, about our bodies can affect our sexuality and sexual practices. Social gender dysphoria describes the negative feelings we may experience when people mispronoun or misgender us through their behavior or language. Body dysphoria describes the negative feelings we may have when our body does not match up with our internal map of ourselves. Dysphoria of both kinds can be traumatic. It may cause us to isolate ourselves, become depressed, or feel frustrated and anxious in relationships.
“It´s very uncomfortable when this ugly thing which is unfortunately still between my legs ‘wakes up again.’”
“Some things cross the ‘sexual’ line for me right now that I hope will not post-transition, like being shirtless. I would really really like to be comfortable taking my clothes off and not have to fight a combined dysphoria and sexual connotation.”
“Specific sexual acts that enforce my lack of penis and presence of breast tissue bother me. I get frustrated that I can’t fuck my partner the way I want (with the body parts I want). I am trying to work through some of this in therapy.”
Many of us feel uncomfortable in sexual situations because we may feel pressured to use our genitals in ways that do not match our sense of our gender. We may even feel uncomfortable masturbating, because we do not like being reminded that we do not have the kind of genitals that we feel are appropriate for our gender.
For some people, engaging in certain types of sexual activity can trigger body dysphoria and lead us to dissociate. Dissociation is when we separate from, ignore, or minimize our feelings, experiences, and their importance. For some of us, dissociating makes us feel as if we have left our bodies. It can also be a more subtle experience. We may, for example, tell ourselves that what a partner is doing during sex should feel good, even when it does not.
Embodiment is the opposite of dissociation. Becoming embodied means accepting that our feelings are valid and that it is important that they be recognized, felt, and respected, including by us. If many of our feelings seem intolerable or if we believe we are wrong or bad for having them, learning to pay attention to and honor our feelings can be very difficult. In order to have safe, fulfilling sex, we have to learn to tolerate or cope with our feelings to some degree. With care, gentleness, and patience it is possible to learn to accept our feelings.
Ignacio Rivera, aka Papí Coxxx, is a 42-year-old, Two-Spirit, genderqueer, Black-Boricua Taíno. Ignacio lives in Brooklyn, New York.
As a sex educator, sex worker, and as a trans-identified person of color (POC), sex(uality) has been central in the examination of oppression and how it spills out into many aspects of our lives. How does a trans person of color experience desire within a body that has been regulated by society and the state?
Colored bodies have been probed, abducted, put on display, colonized, owned, sold, questioned, distrusted, abhorred, and feared. These bodies continue to suffer trauma from outside and within. The juxtaposing of POC and white bodies within slavery, colonialism, and current-day media representations feeds stereotypes and internalized hatred of skin color, full lips, curvy bodies, broad noses, and more. The trans body at one time was revered, seen as superior among POC tribes, communities, and societies. Forced religion and colonization refocused those ideals, and the impact has been devastating.
Positive or radical sexuality begins from within; the sexual body is what you make of it, however you define it within your body. It is the sexual place that allows you to feel comfort, have agency, ask for what you want, say no, communicate about sex, expose your desires, and much more. This is radical because it is reclaiming one’s body that has been probed by society and the state. It is power, and that transcends into supporting mental health, healthy relationships, and self-esteem. It refocuses how the POC/trans body has been viewed.
Dominant culture’s ideals have affected queer and trans people but have also had implications for poor people, women, and POC. The sterilization of poor women and poor women of color happens through, for example, government funding of abstinence-only-until-marriage programs that have existed for over 30 years. These programs, enforced via welfare reform, ignore harm-reduction approaches and provide monetary incentives for poor women on welfare to get and stay married. Laws and policies regulate who has sex, how one has sex, punishment for having sex, and the elimination of sex dialogue.
Even when movements and struggles have emerged to fight injustice, the color of the battles has maintained its whiteness. The feminist movement was a white woman’s movement until women of color bonded together and named themselves Chicana, black, First Nations, Latina, and Women of Color (WOC) Feminists. The face of the LGB struggle was seen as white, although POC and trans people were at the forefront of the struggle. The trend has continued in the HIV/AIDS struggle, transgender liberation, and most recently, with the sexual liberation movement. The coloring of these movements has repeatedly shown the unique realities that POC and poor people face.
From welfare reform to sex education in public schools to women’s health care, these issues are embedded in sex and in the body. They go beyond the simplistic definition or physical act of sex and seep into our livelihood, our relationships, our family structures, our mental health, and our pleasure. How does the POC/trans body experience sex when sex has been constructed in a heteronormative, cisgender, white framework? There has been no context in which to navigate sex, desire, fantasy, and lust as a poor person, a person of color, and a trans person outside of that structure.
It is a privilege to love, be in a relationship, and have sex in a way that the state deems normal, satisfactory, or American.
We must each journey to understand our sexual bodies. Coming out as a trans or LGB person of color in a homo/transphobic, classist, racist culture, we have been resilient. We have created language for ourselves, reclaimed our ancestry, and honored our past. We have discarded the ways dominant culture has force-fed us how to love and live. We have begun the process of questioning. We are going through the often painful process of unlearning information about our bodies, our histories, and our lives. We have and continue to do this work individually, in community, and systematically to gain our right to the sexual body and beyond.
For many of us, our response to strong emotions or intense physical sensation is to dissociate, distract ourselves, or use drugs or alcohol to limit our capacity to feel. These techniques make it harder for us to seek out positive sexual and interpersonal relationships and prevent us from setting clear boundaries around the kinds of sex we do and do not want to have. We may have a lot of unlearning to do as we work on feeling embodied and empowered during sex.
The first step we can take is to notice when we dissociate, what makes us dissociate, and in what ways we dissociate. Observe what feelings arise and when, as well as what you or your partner is doing. Paying attention to these things does not mean that we should feel bad, or guilty, for dissociating. Learning to listen to ourselves and our bodies can be a long process—take your time and tune in.
“[My girlfriend] has been one of my strongest and most amazing supporters in transitioning. She sees me as completely male, and she’s never used the wrong pronouns. She’s also helped me feel more comfortable sexually, in every way.”
Many of us are used to having sex that is uncomfortable and frightening, and we may even be used to having our sexual boundaries and preferences violated either intentionally or through ignorance. If this is true for you, one option is to take a step back from sex until you are in a better headspace or with a partner who is safer and more understanding. Work on staying present and embodied during masturbation before you try partnered sex again. If you are unable to stay present during masturbation, it is unlikely you will be able to stay present enough to set safe boundaries during partnered sex. Be patient with yourself, learn how you work, and keep experimenting.
If you have a safe, supportive partner, discuss with them what triggers your dissociation. Many of our partners want to share mutually enjoyable sexual experiences with us. They may be unaware that there is a problem unless we talk with them. These can be hard conversations, especially if we are unfamiliar with talking about ourselves, our needs, and our feelings. But these conversations are usually rewarding, over time, and can help us discover ways to feel more at home in our bodies and our relationships.
“I am pretty comfortable with the body I’ve got and trust my partner totally.”
Being treated as the correct gender regardless of our hormonal or surgical status is vital. This includes during sex, even if it is sex all by yourself. We will naturally be able to stay more present and self-aware during sex when the language and kind of touch used is right for us and our bodies.
As human beings, we are more alike than different. Sexual pleasure starts in the same place, no matter what our gender is or what genitals we have: the brain. Our brains interpret the signals we receive from the outside world and from our body parts, translating them into coherent messages for us. Our brains determine whether we are interested in sex and who we are attracted to. The brain regulates all of the systems that play a role in our sexual experience. It is what raises our heart rate and body temperature, and releases hormones that influence sexual feelings and response, such as testosterone, oxytocin, vasopressin, serotonin, and dopamine. The brain helps us process sensory information to decide if what we are experiencing is pleasurable, painful, ticklish, frightening, or otherwise.
Any part of the body can contribute to sexual pleasure, with the right cues and context. The entire surface of the skin contains nerves that can be thrilling or exciting when touched. Different parts of the body are typically more sensitive than others. Nipples, for example, have more nerve endings than kneecaps.
Keep in mind that our gender does not determine how sensitive parts of our body are. Many people who are either assigned female at birth or identify as female do not enjoy having their nipples touched, and many people who are either assigned male at birth or identify as male find nipple stimulation very arousing. What gives us pleasure is unique to us, not our gender.
One of the body’s most nerve-dense areas is, of course, the genital region. Many of the sexual sensations in our genitals are related to the pudendal nerve, which is located at the bottom of the spinal cord. The pelvic nerve, the genitofemeral nerve, and the ilioinguinal nerve also play similar roles and exist in people with all kinds of genitals. Together, these nerves carry signals from our genitals and surrounding areas up to our brains. No matter what kind of genitals we have, or what we choose to call them, the nerves connecting them are nearly all the same—but there are many different ways to stimulate them.
All of our genitals are similar in position, structure, and origin. That includes both external and internal parts of our genitals, from the nerves and glands we have to the types of tissues they are made of. For example, we all have phallic structures (penis/clitoris) with areas on the tip and underside that are particularly sensitive to fine touch, and softer, looser skin (labial/scrotal tissue) that is more sensitive to pressure. The shape, size, and sensitivity of these parts vary widely among individuals, both cis and trans.
Possibilities for genital anatomy (Ron Burton).
Just because our genitals look a certain way does not mean we can only experience sexual pleasure in ways expected by mainstream society. There is no one way—and definitely no one right way—to use our genitals for sex. Many of us have found lots of ways to engage in sexual activities that we feel are appropriate to our affirmed gender.
Hormone therapy can cause many subtle changes in our bodies and minds, such as alterations in the scent of our armpits and genitals or how much we sweat. Many of us will experience changes in our sexual feelings with transition. For some of us, the kinds of stimulation we once used to prefer may no longer work for us, and new types of stimulation may start to be effective instead. We may find that we are turned on by different things as well—sometimes many more things, and in some cases, far fewer.
“My libido has really disappeared since starting on hormones, which I really don’t miss much.”
A body that feels like it is our own is much more capable of receiving pleasure. Sometimes surgery or hormones can mean relearning our bodies, however, as we may no longer respond in the way we did before. Be patient, learn how you work, and keep experimenting. Whatever feels good is right for you. Try not to worry if you do not respond or feel the way that you may have heard others do.
The human experience of sexual arousal is a topic of ongoing discussion and research. In the most widely used model, proposed by William Masters and Virginia Johnson (1966), there are four stages of sexual response: excitement, plateau, orgasm, and resolution. In the excitement phase, Masters and Johnson noted that our heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure increase. Our genitals receive increased blood flow, which can make our bits (of all shapes and sizes) swell or become erect. During the plateau phase, our heart rate increases further, and our muscles tighten. Next, as we orgasm, we experience rhythmic muscle contractions, a sense of euphoria, and ejaculation may occur (in people of any sex or gender). After orgasm, we enter the resolution phase, where our blood pressure drops and our muscles relax.
This model, while descriptive of many people’s experience, is not the only way that human sexual response has been described. Many researchers are beginning to suggest alternative ways of thinking about sexual desire and response. One area of research focuses on the role that social and cultural factors—such as intimacy, power relationships, and past experiences—play in determining sexual behavior and response. For example, research has shown that some people do not experience spontaneous desire at the beginning of sexual encounters. Instead, we may engage in sexual encounters for a variety of other reasons, such as wanting to share intimacy with a partner, and physical arousal may precede—or exist without—emotional or mental feelings of sexual desire.
Research also suggests that there are differences in the way that cisgender men and cisgender women experience sexual response. For example, cis men may become aroused more easily by visual stimulation and cis women by touch. Social and biological factors are both thought to play a role, and for those of us who pursue a physical transition, we may experience significant changes in our sex lives as a result of our transition process.
Taking estrogen (with or without testosterone blockers) may stimulate breast and nipple growth and increase nipple sensitivity. During the growth process, our breast tissue may be hard to the touch and our breasts may even be painfully sensitive. Some people enjoy that sensitivity, while others will want to limit or restrict stimulation.
Vancouver (Courtney Trouble).
“I found that my breasts and nipples became really super sensitive once I was on hormones. Having my nipples sucked became one of my favorite things.”
For those of us who take estrogen or antiandrogens, our external genitals can shrink somewhat, and we may produce less semen or none at all. Erections may become less frequent or not happen anymore. These changes do not mean that we cannot enjoy many kinds of touch—and they definitely do not mean that we cannot achieve orgasm. Erections, orgasm, and ejaculation are three separate events—they need not happen together, and many of us achieve orgasm without ever becoming erect.
After starting estrogen or testosterone blockers, some of us find that our orgasms feel different or that we require different kinds of pressure and stimulation. It is also possible that our refractory period, the time after orgasm when we cannot yet orgasm again, can decrease, resulting in the ability to have multiple orgasms.
“Ejaculation and spontaneous erections are things of the past, and the orgasms themselves much more intense and lengthy.”
Many trans people who were assigned male at birth experience a decreased sex drive from estrogen/antiandrogen hormone therapy. Individual experience varies and many factors are involved. Taking estrogen can certainly decrease sex drive in some people. However, some of us discover over time that what we first interpreted as a lower sex drive was a change in what it feels like to be aroused. How we experience desire may simply be different. For others, having the right hormones in our bodies and having a body that reflects our sense of self allows us to be more present and connected to ourselves and thus we experience increased sexual desire.
“My libido decreased after I started estrogen. However, this did not affect my desire for intimacy.”
“My libido has changed, yes. Contrary to the popular wisdom, my sex drive is much more robust now than before estrogen.”
Spironolactone, a common testosterone blocker, has libido-suppressing and erection- suppressing effects in addition to lowering testosterone.
“My libido dropped precipitously once I started androgen blockers.”
In some cases, after an orchiectomy or vaginoplasty, when we stop testosterone blockers, our sex drive improves again, even though our testosterone levels are still low. For some of us unhappy with our sex drives, taking a little bit of testosterone or progesterone can help boost our libido. Cisgender women have some testosterone in their bodies, too. Talk to a medical provider to learn more. Although there are some providers who do not understand that those of us who identify as female may wish to preserve our libido or erections, there are many who do.
Testosterone is often thought of as determining libido. Many of us who begin testosterone notice that we become sexually aroused more easily, and those of us who take testosterone blockers often notice a decrease in libido. Testosterone can certainly affect our sexuality. However, there are many other factors. Some people with high testosterone levels have low libido and some people with low testosterone levels have high libido. Trans women taking testosterone blockers, for instance, sometimes notice an increase in sexual arousal because they feel more content in their bodies and can now allow themselves to feel attractive and aroused. Sexuality is complicated, and it never comes down to just one thing.
For many people, starting testosterone therapy can have quite dramatic effects. Growth of genital erectile tissue is stimulated by testosterone. This means that many people assigned female at birth who take testosterone experience major shifts in the size and shape of our external genitals. The bundle of tissue commonly referred to as the clitoris, which many trans men call our dick, cock, or dicklet, may double, triple, or quadruple in size from testosterone. As a result of the change in size, erections may become clearly visible for the first time. Some people notice that the external genitals become darker in color and are much more rigid when aroused.
With testosterone treatment, the mucus membranes on the inside of the front hole can thin and become more delicate. They may also produce much less lubrication than before. As a result, penetration of the front hole may cause bleeding and may feel a little rougher or more raw. This effect may be mitigated in some people by using lube or engaging in regular penetration of the front hole.
Anonymous, 22
You and I were always 10 minutes behind schedule. Sneaking you through the side-porch door so your parents could pretend not to hear. We listened to a lot of Bikini Kill, and used your electric flosser to get off.
The first time you slept over was after a Leftover Crack show, where you bravely held my hand in front of the boy who had raped me. You didn’t know who he was at the time, but it made me pretty damn sure I was going to get naked with you later.
You were really sweet and acted like you knew exactly what you were doing. Afterwards I made you sleep on the couch, so my parents wouldn’t think we were fucking, or maybe so they understood that we were. It’s still unclear.
I texted the gayest friend I had at the time to tell them I had finally slept with a bulldagger. In the morning, I woke you up with coffee and a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
The first time I touched you, I was shaking so hard I thought I was actually going to hurt you. Plus we had promised to be home by 6 p.m., and we were already 10 minutes behind schedule. Remember that time we spent all summer fucking in the back of my car? We were both so drenched in sweat afterwards we would take our shirts off before driving you home and literally wring the wetness out of our collars.
You asked me to tie you up. All I had with me was electrical tape and a lighter. We made do.
I knew you were trans the first time I sucked you off. Along with my spit, I must have swallowed something bitter and cruel, and as your body shook from cumming and crying I knew that all I had to do was make space for you.
You don’t smell the same way you did when we were 18. The testosterone I watch you inject when you visit makes your sweat smell sweet and sickly, and it reminds me of cold medicine or some sort of poison. I hate it.
Tracing my tongue along your waistband feels like licking wounds. You’re the sweetest boy south of the Mason Dixon line.
Once I dislocated your thumb while you had half your fist inside of me.
I told you exactly what you were getting yourself into. I probably made some joke about red wings, and then proceeded to cover my face in your cum and smear blood hearts on your shoulders. Legs slipping and hips grinding, I knew you were a force to be reckoned with.
We totally freaked out your neighbor who saw us dancing covered in each other’s blood to the dorm showers.
I sure liked you a whole lot.
Two years later you would tell me you were not a feminist, I’d build your bed frame using only my Leatherman, and you would get into my bed and shatter me into a million pieces.
The way we fucked was desperate. It was sweet. It was self-discovery and shame lapped up and sucked off. It was 15-year-olds at a slumber party. It was superhero dance-athons. I never knew what to make of you. It was standing ovations in the hallways of dorms, it was Mario Kart high scores with me between your thighs, it was racing you home and the first one to the door got to kiss the other one any way they wanted to.
You would call me Harvey when I strapped on and then ask me when I was getting top surgery. And when Kevin told me I should just go by Abby because maybe then people would stop asking me if I were a boy or a girl, you didn’t stick up for me.
Actually, you just slept with him.
Bright-eyed blue sparkle glitter bounce. Bike rides, beets, and BDSM. Knives, Saran wrap, coming home from practice to you crafting naked in a sunbeam. You sure do make me oatmeal a lot, Dreamgirl.
You’re glaring at me from the seat next to mine. I know you are upset with me. I know you are pissed I licked her fluids and refused yours. I know you know that it has to do with you sleeping with men. I know you feel that I am ashamed of you.
Some days you come home to me covered in Cheerios and tempera paint. Some days you fall asleep on my lap, with my grasp wrapped around your pretty throat. Your half of the farm share is on my porch, and I love you.
Sparkle boy, glitter faggot, butch hunter. Tough take no shit crybaby cupcake. Perfect rough and tumble bruise prince.
Brown eyes that pierce my stone and a smart mouth to match. Kissing you tastes like iron, rage, survival, and every sweet thing. I spent my last semester at Smith licking your cum out from under my fingernails, and putting stars on your chore chart.
You hit me like the best brick wall I never saw coming.
When they call us “ladies” I can see the invisibility chill you down to your marrow. February feels like forever, and I want to suck the cold out. Transparent and vulnerable, I contract around your fingers and your voice is the only thing connecting me to my body. “I’m here. You’re safe. I love you.”
Many of us who begin testosterone therapy also find that it increases our sex drive. For some, this may mean a dramatic increase—we suddenly fantasize about everyone and everything we see, all the time, uncontrollably, and want sex almost nonstop—while for others, we might only want sex a little more often than before.
“Testosterone makes you want to f*ck every attractive thing out there.”
“My libido has most definitely changed. I have higher sexual cravings than ever before.”
The way in which sexual arousal occurs may also change with testosterone. Some people report needing visual stimuli to become aroused while on testosterone, meaning that they may grow more interested in pornography than before. Some report being able to become physically aroused without emotional engagement in the situation, where before emotional and physical arousal were inextricably linked. Some find casual sex easier to engage in as a result, because sex no longer feels as automatically emotional. These are, however, completely individual changes, and some people find themselves more emotional about sex than before or more emotional in general. Do not worry about how you are supposed to feel or how others feel. Everyone is different.
“I am easily aroused. I am more visually stimulated. I have always been pansexual, but I find men even more attractive now.”
“I was unable to maintain my relationship, especially after testosterone. Testosterone made me very unemotional compared to what I used to be. My partner noticed that.”
For some, orgasm becomes easier to achieve while taking testosterone, while others lose the ability to have multiple orgasms or find that orgasms are less intense. Sometimes the way in which people have multiple orgasms changes as a result of taking testosterone—where before some people were able to have multiple huge orgasms or have continuous orgasms for long periods of time, they may start to instead have a pattern of several small orgasms leading up to one larger one.
For some people assigned female at birth who start testosterone, the stimulation we need in order to achieve climax may also change. We may begin to prefer more external than internal stimulation, or to prefer anal sex to front-hole sex, or vice versa.
December (Courtney Trouble).
Those of us who have surgeries may notice that our bodies now respond in different ways. For those of us who have top surgeries, the sensitivity we retain in our chests can differ significantly depending on the type of surgery. For those of us who have bottom surgeries, we may have to relearn ways of stimulating ourselves or achieving orgasm. It may have been easy for us to become aroused or achieve orgasm before, or it may have been a long process of discovering what felt good and worked for us. It can be frustrating to feel like we are starting all over again.
For those of us who have had a phalloplasty (creation of a larger phallus), there are several different surgical techniques, some of which allow our phallus to become erect and others that do not. If you have had a vaginoplasty, keep in mind that your vagina might not be able to produce its own lubrication—different surgical techniques have different results, and some of us find that we produce some lubrication. Many of us find that store-bought lubrication is helpful or necessary for penetration. We may also have to maintain regular use of a dilator—a tool used to help create more flexibility in the muscles and tissues inside the vagina. This can allow for easier, more comfortable penetration.
It is normal for it to take some time after surgery to regain sexual function. After surgery, our nerves may be distributed slightly differently, so our bodies may respond somewhat differently. One of the best ways to start exploring our new bodies is by ourselves, where we can experiment in a safe and comfortable environment. For those of us with supportive partners, we may want to try new positions or ask them to stimulate us in new ways.
If it is taking longer than expected to recover sensation, speak to a medical provider. There are many different kinds of surgery, and techniques differ by surgeon. We may want to speak with our individual surgeon about the technique used and ask for any advice based on how our anatomical parts are now arranged.
Most people’s sexual preferences shift a little over time. Changes in sexual preference are especially common as a result of transition. Just because we used to have sex a certain way does not mean we should be expected to do it again now; and even if we once declared we would never do something, it is OK to change our minds. When we transition, the context in which we date and have sex naturally shifts, and the ways we approach dating and having sex may change. Having our gender recognized may mean that people—especially people we are dating or having sex with—respond and interact with us differently than before. What was uncomfortable before transition might become comfortable afterwards—or vice versa.
Some of us find that after we transition we are attracted to people of a gender we were not interested in before. For example, trans men who had been exclusively attracted to women before transition may be attracted exclusively to men, or to both men and women, after transition.
“I was pretty sure that I was still going to prefer women post transition, but I’m now not so sure. I am starting to wonder what it would be like to be with guys post transition and I have started to notice them more. It’s actually pretty confusing for me right now.”
“A few years after starting transitioning and testosterone, my sexual orientation shifted from women only, to both men and women, but I am now primarily attracted to men.”
“Since I started T, I have steadily become more interested in women. Pre-T, I was not interested in them at all. Now I consider myself bisexual.”
Shifting preferences could be related to hormones, but it could also be about the way we see ourselves and what kinds of relationships we feel socially comfortable in. Being interpreted as a woman in a lesbian relationship is different than being interpreted as a man in a straight relationship. Being interpreted as a woman in a straight relationship is different than being interpreted as a man in a gay relationship. Similarly, being viewed as a trans person in a relationship can be different than being viewed as a cis person of any gender in a relationship.
The kinds of sex we are comfortable having and the people we want to have sex with may shift as the way we are perceived by other people shifts. For some people, this may look like a shift in sexual orientation. This can be challenging for many of us, particularly for those who have been deeply involved in gay, lesbian, or queer communities, where our social relationships may have been linked to our sexuality.
“My sexual orientation does seem to have changed during my life. I was more attracted to other women in my teens than I am now.”
Some of us know ourselves to be fundamentally oriented in certain ways. Prior to transition we may be attracted to women, and we may retain our attraction to women after transition. Those of us who identified strongly as straight before transition may still identify as straight afterward, despite the fact that the gender of the people we want to have sex with is different.
For many people, including cisgender people, sexual orientation can be fluid in the moment or over time. It is completely normal and healthy to follow our attractions, wherever they may lead us.
Many of us find that masturbation is one of the most fulfilling ways for us to be sexual. We are often the people who know our bodies best. We can also fantasize about any number of things while masturbating, allowing ourselves to explore our desires in many different ways. Masturbation is also one of the best ways to get to know our bodies and learn how our responses may have changed during transition. It is a chance to explore, play, and learn what works for us.
For many of us, fantasy and imagination started off our transition, and they can be the way we move into having good sex during and after transition as well. Being trans requires that we rethink and question what is expected of us, and we can do this during sex as well as in our daily lives. Fantasy gives us the power to reimagine, reshape, and reclaim our bodies. When we fantasize, we can look and behave however we want. Our fantasies are for us and us alone, and they are thus allowed to be whatever we want or need them to be.
“I could and can and do fantasize about myself as entirely female and cannot picture myself sexually in any other way.”
“In recent times, I’ve started fantasizing about having a big, fleshy dick, or a dildo and performing as the soft, sensual, but strong top that lives in the back of my consciousness.”
If we want, our fantasies can also be incorporated into our partnered sex life. Sharing them with a partner during or before sex can be a great way to get us both going. Role playing our fantasies as part of sex can help us stay in our bodies if dysphoria makes that difficult. Even if we do not want to act out our fantasies with a partner, it can be nice just to share what we like with someone else.
No matter what gender we are, we may have fantasies about ourselves as another gender, and we may have fantasies about sex with people of all different genders. There is no reason to feel ashamed about any sexual fantasy we have. Our sexual fantasies do not determine the validity of our gender identity. Historically, some mental health professionals used our fantasies to diagnose some of us designated as male at birth with “autogynephilia” (meaning sexual arousal at the thought of oneself as a woman). This diagnosis was often used to deny the validity of our gender identity and prohibit us from accessing medical transition. This is no longer considered an acceptable diagnosis. Our sexual fantasies do not dictate the validity of our gender identities. We do not have to feel ashamed of our desires, and it is wrong for others to tell us what our desires should look like.
Masturbation can be an extremely useful way to learn more about ourselves and the way our bodies respond. It is a good opportunity to explore by ourselves without fearing what anyone might think and without concern for anyone’s needs but our own.
Trans-Positive Porn Companies
• Handbasket Productions, directed by Tobi Hill-Meyer (handbasketproductions.com) FTM Fucker, directed by James Darling (FTMfucker.com)
• Buck Angel (buckangel.com)
• Trouble Films, directed by Courtney Trouble (indiepornrevolutions.com, queerporn.tv, queerporntube.com)
• Pink and White Productions, directed by Shine Louise Houston (crashpadseries.com, heavenlyspire.com, pinkwhite.biz)
• CockSexual, directed by Furry Girl (Cocksexual.com)
• T-Wood (trannywoodpictures.com)
Even though most of us masturbate in private, we often wonder whether the way we masturbate is “normal.” We all masturbate in many different ways, so there is no normal way to do it. We might actually be wondering not whether the way we masturbate is normal, but whether it is OK. When it comes to masturbation, the answer is almost universally “yes.” It is OK to masturbate frequently, infrequently, or not at all. It is OK to use toys or to stimulate any part of our bodies that feels good. So long as what we are doing is not dangerous to ourselves or others, what we are doing is OK.
“I masturbate a lot with my underwear on. I’m not sure if that has anything to do with anything.”
“My masturbation is more in line with the techniques of females and I now use a vibrator just as other women do. Touching my breasts, nipples, and other areas of my body is more sensual and comforting.”
“Masturbating has become a lot more awkward. I used to do it a lot, but now that I’m out, I don’t even want to touch myself. It feels weird and I don’t know why. Maybe its subconscious.”
Trans people may face many cissexist expectations around masturbation. For example, trans men may internalize messages that enjoying penetration in a front hole means that we are not “real men.” Trans women may worry that stroking our bits is a “male” thing to do. Some of us fear that if we fantasize or masturbate in the “wrong” ways we are not really trans. This is completely incorrect. We can masturbate in any way we like, and this does not affect our gender identity.
Some people find masturbating with a partner to be very intimate. It can be a great way to show a partner what kinds of things we like and how they work for us, especially when first getting to know someone sexually. By taking turns and really paying attention to what our partner is doing, we can learn a lot. We may also want to let our partner masturbate us, perhaps while we masturbate them. For some people, it may be difficult to achieve orgasm, especially through someone else’s touch. Masturbating together can be a way to share an orgasm with a partner if it would be difficult or impossible otherwise.
Trans-Positive Erotic Anthologies
• Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica, edited by Tristan Taormino
• Transgender Erotica, edited by Raven Kaldera and Hanne Blank
Queer porn TV (Courtney Trouble).
Some of us identify as asexual, meaning we do not want to engage in sexual activity. Those of us who are asexual often desire intimate relationships with others, but we do not see sexual activity as a desirable component of our relationship. Many of us have long, fulfilling relationships with other asexual partners; have happy, healthy open relationships with long-term partners who desire sexual activity with other partners; or find a variety of other relationship styles that work for us. Asexuality is as valid a form of sexual expression as all others.
Joelle Ruby Ryan is a lecturer in women’s studies at the University of New Hampshire, the founder of TransGender New Hampshire (TG-NH), as well as a writer, speaker, and long-term social justice activist.
I have “come out” in terms of my gender and sexual identity at least three times so far in my life. My first coming out was as a transgender woman in my late teens. This was followed by coming out as queer/lesbian and immersing myself in women’s studies and feminist activism shortly thereafter. The third coming out is the most recent: I have come out as an asexual person.
From my early to mid-thirties, I was in a long-term relationship. Over time in the relationship, I became less and less interested in sex with my partner. At first I thought this was just because we had very different libidos. But then I started researching asexuality on the Internet and came across a group called the Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN). I started to think about my own life, sexual journey, and lack of sexual attraction as well as lack of interest in sex and having sex. I realized my lack of desire to “do it” was not about a low libido but about an asexual identity.
When my relationship broke up, I started to peek my head out of the asexual closet and tell people about my newfound, asexy sense of self. Not all reaction was positive. Some in the queer community seemed hesitant to add another letter to the LGBTQ+ rainbow acronym. Others seemed skeptical about the very existence of asexuality or questioned whether I was “really” asexual or just going through a phase. Some sex-positive queers seemed threatened by asexuality because of their hard-fought battles to liberate queer sex from the closet of shame and negativity. Despite this resistance, coming out as asexual has been a liberating and exciting process in my life journey. I identify as a lesbo-romantic asexual, and thus hope to find a woman-identified partner that will accept my asexuality. (Some asexuals are aromantic but many of us hope to find romantic partners to share our lives with.)
I now give asexual workshops, screen the film (A)sexual with a postfilm discussion, and try to have conversations with my friends and colleagues about asexual identity and acephobia. There is great need for education and visibility, but there is also tremendous interest and curiosity about the subject. I am proud to be asexual and feel more empowered every day. I doubt that this will be my last coming out as I continue to explore my own complex personhood into the future. I welcome the next “coming out” and wherever it takes me on my journey.
Because our gender identity is separate from our sexuality, we may still want to make changes to our genitals through hormones or surgery, even if we do not want to use our bodies to have sex. As with many of the other ways that we care for and maintain our personal expression and appearance, we make changes to our bodies that feel right for us, not because of how others see us.
Asexuality is not the same as abstinence. Those of us who are abstinent refrain from having sex, even though we experience sexual desire and feelings. As trans people, many of us choose abstinence for a period of time before or after transition, for numerous reasons. Sometimes prior to transition we do not feel completely ourselves, and it is not pleasurable for us when others see or touch our bodies. Some of us engaged in sex before transition, but become less interested afterward. This could be due to the effects of hormones or surgery, or it could have to do with the way we see our bodies.
“I had relationships after SRS but without sex. Each was for a period of 8 years. People can’t believe I had relationships without sex, I just laugh.”
“Sex is uncomfortable now, physically and mentally, and so I avoid it.”
We do not need to have sex in order to feel positive about sexuality. There are many behaviors that other people may or may not consider to be sex, such as making out, naked cuddling, or sensual touching. We can engage in activities like these without having to do anything else. These forms of physical intimacy can constitute our entire sex life, and that is a valid way to be sexual.
Even if we do not describe ourselves as asexual or abstinent, we may choose not to have sex in the way most people define it. Jumping straight to “sex,” however we describe it, may not be what we want or need right now.
“I’m actually more comfortable with and interested in nongenital play that does not require nudity and may or may not culminate in orgasm.”
If we are not ready, we are not ready, and that is always OK. If it feels most natural to stick to kissing, hugging, cuddling, groping, or other forms of physical intimacy, no one has the right to make us do things that make us feel uncomfortable—or to make us feel guilty for not doing them.
Although some of us prefer to be sexual when we are alone, many of us seek out partners with whom to share sexual experiences. For some of us, beginning a sexual relationship—whether for the first time, or every time—can be intimidating. Our bodies may not match our ideas of ourselves, and we may worry that other people will not understand us in the same way we understand ourselves or that they will desire us to use our bodies in ways that make us uncomfortable.
However, many of us find that we have wonderful, supportive partners who share exciting, fulfilling sexual experiences with us. Good partners can help us feel more comfortable in our bodies, help us explore new ways to enjoy sexual experiences, and by using the names, pronouns, and language that we prefer, may make our sexual experience a powerfully affirming part of our lives.
“I started a relationship right in the middle of my process of identification. He’s being really supportive and helpful at this point, and he is the only person who treats me fully like a male.”
Disclosure is one of the major issues facing trans people when we date or look for sex partners. When to disclose, how to disclose, and how much to disclose are very important decisions. These choices are completely individual, and all of us assess our comfort and risk level anytime we disclose.
Some trans people view delayed disclosure as very dangerous, and preempt this by disclosing immediately upon meeting someone new. Some of us want to be desired as a trans person and always disclose to potential partners to ensure this is the case. Others of us may choose to delay disclosure until trust is established because of concerns about the information getting out. Some of us may use delayed disclosure to ensure we are not fetishized or singled out for our trans status. Some trans people never disclose at all. When and if we disclose is up to us.
“I prefer to come out before I start a relationship, because I think it is better. My partner won’t feel cheated. I found that nowadays, there are some people who love other people just the way they are. So, it’s getting better, I think.”
“I do let everyone know that I am transgender up front, so if they have an issue with me, then they can leave right then.”
“I figured it was easiest to just be upfront and write ‘I’m a tranny’ on my online dating profile. Saves hassle later on. After all, I wouldn’t want to date someone who doesn’t want to date someone like me, would I? It worked, too. I met a lovely trans friendly dyke online and we’ve been together for a year.”
For those of us who have begun to date someone who does not yet know that we are trans, we can take different approaches to telling (or not telling) them. Deciding how and when to disclose our trans status to a partner is an individual decision. It is usually safer and more effective to have this conversation when neither person has been drinking or using drugs.
Even if a partner is supportive of trans identities and attracted to us, getting news that our body is different than they expected, or finding this out during a sexual encounter, can be a surprising and confusing experience. People have different reactions to finding out about our trans status in the middle of a sexual encounter. Some partners may have experience with other trans partners or feel otherwise unconcerned by potential differences in our anatomy or gender identity and be comfortable continuing. Others may want to slow things down and take time to process their feelings. In some cases, a partner who wants to be supportive may feel pressured to continue having sex so as not to hurt us or send a message that we are not attractive, even if they would rather take some time to think through things. In some cases, people who find out about our trans status in the middle of a sexual encounter become very angry that we did not tell them, and our physical safety may be at risk.
Some of us have bodies that are not recognizable to most people as trans bodies. For example, we may have had a breast augmentation and vaginoplasty, and feel we are at low risk of a partner finding out that we are trans without us telling them. When we choose to discuss our status with a partner is up to us—and many of us feel that we have no obligation to tell anyone about our history as long as it is safe to keep it from them. Especially if we have a series of short-term relationships or one-time sexual encounters, it can sometimes be more dangerous to disclose than to keep our trans status private.
If we are in a longer term relationship, however, there may come a point where we feel it is important to open up about our trans status. Disclosing our status to a long-term partner may be important to us as a way of demonstrating and building trust, or it may be relevant information to a partner who desires to have children in a traditional manner. Waiting to tell a long-term partner about our transition history can pose challenges, and we should prepare for some difficult conversations.
Many of us believe that if we talk to our partners about what we want before, during, or after sex, it means we are unsexy or bad lovers. Many people believe that we should be able to read body language so well that we never have to ask any questions. This is completely false. The more we are able to communicate with our partners before, during, and after sex, the better lovers we are able to be. Even if we are whizzes at reading body language, some needs are too subtle to be interpreted merely from squirming or moaning. Many people think that being open about our desires is embarrassing, so in a lot of cases there is no outward sign of what someone’s sexual needs are. This is why we need communication.
“I don’t take off my clothes. Pretty much ever. No one touches me. No one is permitted to touch me. I perform any number of acts upon my boyfriends, all of which we all enjoy, but they know not to touch anything but my face and hands.”
“I love it when my breasts are petted.”
“I am comfortable with any sex act as long as my partner is.”
Sexual consent is often framed in a negative way. Our concepts of consent are frequently around one person attempting to do something (typically a cisgender man) and another person saying no (typically a cisgender woman). When both parties agree to a sexual act, they are not usually portrayed as talking about it. Silence is made to look sexy. Enthusiastic consent is the idea that taking charge of our own sexuality is hot. There are many ways to give and receive enthusiastic consent.
In porn and in mainstream movies, panting, gasping, or screaming during sex is portrayed as how to tell that we are giving consent. But we can also pant and gasp in discomfort, or be in a location where loud noise would get us in trouble. If we want to be clear about our enjoyment (or to know that our partner is experiencing pleasure), try actually saying “yes.” Whether you whisper it, say it gently, or scream it, “yes” communicates consent well. Other explicit ways of saying that we are enjoying what is happening include “like that,” “so good,” “just right,” and “I love this.” We do not have to make speeches in praise of our partners’ actions, but no matter what we are doing sexually, positive feedback tends to be appreciated.
Giselle Renarde
I still smile when I think about my first kiss with Danielle. It was one in the morning. We were sitting on my balcony, teacups in hand, eating chocolate-covered digestive biscuits. She wore a green skirt, wedge heels, and no stockings—it was summertime, and the air was lovely and warm.
When I looked up into her face, I fell in love all over again. We hadn’t been together long, but it was the first time I’d seen her presenting female. That night, I realized why I’d fallen in love with her. It hadn’t made sense before, because Danielle presented male when we first met. Being primarily attracted to women, I didn’t understand why I was so gaga for “him.” But when I saw Danielle wearing clothes that made her comfortable and shimmering with a pronounced sense of joy, I knew I’d fallen for the woman behind that male facade.
I kissed her lips. Not a big, messy smooch, but more than just a peck. It was the sort of kiss where you press your lips against the other person’s lips and then you breathe together for a moment, and then release. You gaze into each other’s eyes, and you want to cry because you’re so overwhelmed.
The next day, when we talked on the phone, Danielle said, “I felt uncomfortable.”
It was the most emotional kiss I’d ever experienced, and it made her uncomfortable?
“I wasn’t sure why you did it,” she said, and explained that she had trouble seeing her female self as a sexual being. She hated that the word “transsexual” contained the word “sexual,” because it made her feel like people would view her as some kind of deviant. She wondered if I fetishized her, or if I viewed her as a “guy in a dress” and I got off on that sort of thing.
She said it was okay that I kissed her, that maybe one day she’d let me kiss her again, but I needed to give her time. She wasn’t sure what she wanted; it was all so confusing. We would never have sex—that was for certain. There were so many things we’d never do.
And now, after five years of building trust and understanding, Danielle and I have done everything. We took our time, and she came to realize that I loved her and desired her for who she was: my sweet, nerdy, gorgeous girlfriend.
Negotiation is a process of letting our partners know beforehand what our boundaries are and what kind of sex we would like to have. Negotiation can, for some people, be a lengthy process involving lots of discussion. For others it may be as simple as “Do you want me to touch you here?” and getting a response like “Yeah!” Getting clear verbal consent before we start can help everyone feel safer.
“For my body there are certain areas that need to be touched in certain ways—for instance, I love being sucked off but not eaten out, I cannot be penetrated in the front, only in the back, and my chest cannot be played with. These guidelines allow me to feel more comfortable in my body during sex.”
Given all the changes many of us experience during transition, we may need to experiment to know what we enjoy, which often results in trying sex we do not enjoy. There is nothing wrong with trying something and not liking it, or even retrying something we might not have liked the first time. However, no one has the right to do anything to us that we do not want to happen. We are allowed to say things like “I’d like to keep it above the waist for now,” “I’m not in the mood this week,” “I don’t feel safe in this place,” “Sucking my earlobes is what gets me hot, not genital petting,” or “I need a condom to do that.”
When a sexual partner is able and willing to hear our requests, boundaries, and sexual input, that is a very good sign. It is a serious warning sign if a partner takes boundaries or requests personally, gets angry at us for having sexual boundaries or needs, or tries to pressure us to do something we have already refused. Even if we are in love with the person doing this, attempts at sexual pressure, coercion, or shaming are a problem to take very seriously.
Sometimes it is not a matter of a partner crossing our boundaries, but of struggling to mesh seemingly incompatible desires. What if one person needs penetrative sex to get off, and the other does not feel comfortable having genital sex at all? If we are creative and motivated, we can usually find solutions that will work for everyone. If we are not willing or able to use our bits for penetration, we may use our hands or a dildo to satisfy our partner. If using a dildo with a harness triggers dysphoria, try a thigh harness or hold a dildo in your hands. If you do not want to receive oral sex, but your partner wants to perform it, negotiate other ways to satisfy your partner’s interest; for instance, is there another part of your body that you like to have licked or sucked?
Many people benefit from continued communication throughout their sexual encounters. Like negotiation, this can be anywhere from very brief to very involved. Everyone has unforeseen issues arise during sex sometimes, whether it is a full bladder or a flashback. Getting and giving updates during sex, even when everything is going great, can be very helpful. For some of us, dysphoria can make us unwilling or unable to speak. In such a situation, a partner who is used to getting updates during sex is likely to notice that something is wrong, long before a partner who is used to nonverbal sex.
Many of us find that using “safe words” can make it easier to communicate when something is wrong. Instead of saying “no” or “stop” to our partner, having a shared word that means “something is wrong” can make it easier to put on the brakes without worrying about hurting our partner’s feelings. What words you use are up to you—just be sure that they are clear and easy to remember, so that you and your partner both know when they are being used. Some of us find it helpful to use “traffic signal” language (green, yellow, red) to check in with our partners during sex. Green may mean, “That’s good!” while yellow may mean, “Slow down” or “Let’s do something different,” and red means, “Stop.”
Sex can touch us deeply or bring up a lot of baggage. Whether it is trauma-related triggers, dysphoria, or new positive feelings about the person we had sex with, talking to each other after sex can be a good idea. Most of us are aware that consent is important and must be established before sex begins, but there is also a lot of important processing that happens after the sex is over. Many of us are too charged full of hormones to know what we are feeling right after sex, though, so talking about it a day or two later may give us a more complete picture and lead to better sex in the future.
It can be especially important for those of us with any history of abuse or feeling bad after sexual encounters to check in with ourselves after sex. What feels good in the moment may leave us miserable or panicked for days afterward. If we notice that after sex we are not sleeping well, having nightmares, losing our appetite, experiencing unexplained body pain, getting unusually intense depression or anxiety, or feeling the urge to isolate or harm ourselves, we should reach out to others. Having an established system of checking in after sex can really help.
Safer sex is sex that minimizes risks. There are a number of ways that we can reduce our risks. We each have to decide how much risk we are willing to take and that may be different depending on the partner and the situation. Being aware of health issues that come up around sex and making informed decisions to minimize our risk is an important part of taking care of ourselves and our partners. There are a number of different sexually transmitted infections (STIs) out there, many of which are treatable if identified. With some basic information we can significantly reduce our risk.
The risks associated with sex can sometimes seem far off and improbable. This is especially true for those of us who are living with a significant amount of day-to-day risk, such as the discrimination, harassment, and violence. When validation and support seem scarce, it can be difficult to insist on safer sex when it might mean rejection from a sexual partner. Support does not need to be scarce. Many of us have found partners, allies, and community organizations that affirm our needs and our identities.
Infections spread when bodily fluids such as blood or semen pass from one person to another, through mucous membranes or cuts. Barriers such as condoms and gloves can be used to block these fluids. Mucus membranes include the eyes, nasal passages, mouth, throat, urethra, anus, and genital orifices. One of the best safer sex strategies is to engage in sexual activity that reduces or eliminates the exchange of bodily fluids. This might involve mutual masturbation, use of toys, engaging in nongenital sex, or using barrier methods such as condoms.
Some people choose to engage only in oral sex rather than penetrative sex because it is considered a lower risk activity. However, while the risk of HIV transmission is far lower, it is still possible to transmit HIV this way, and other STIs such as herpes, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and syphilis can be transmitted orally. Assess your own comfort and risk levels to make decisions about your sexual behavior. See Chapter 11 for more information on sexual health.
A barrier is something that we put in between one person’s body and another person’s body. Barriers come in many varieties: traditional condoms, receptive-partner condoms (aka “the female condom”), gloves, and dental dams (latex squares used for oral sex). They are most commonly made out of latex, but nonlatex options are available for people with latex allergies.
Making barriers work for us can sometimes be tricky. We are often told that condoms and dental dams are for cis people of particular genders, so it can feel invalidating or degendering to use them. More importantly, they often do not work with our bodies and the things we want to do. Condoms require our genitals to be able to get and stay hard at a certain size, for example.
Get creative, and remember the bottom line is to prevent exchanging bodily fluids. For example, a glove can be altered and used in a variety of different ways. By removing the fingers and cutting open the exterior side of the glove, you can create a wide latex sheet with a pouch (formerly the thumb) that can be placed over smaller bits. This may be used by those of us whose genitals have been enlarged by testosterone who wish to receive oral sex. Those of us with larger genitals can stretch the thumb open and put it over our bits, which might be especially useful if getting erect is difficult or condoms are too loose, or for those of us who want to experience our genitals being reshaped in a new way. Another technique for altering a glove can create a dental dam with finger holds. Dental dams and receptive partner condoms can also be used creatively. For those of us with long or rough fingernails, we can put cotton balls, tissue, or toilet paper in the fingers of a glove for added protection from scraping.
Two ways to cut a glove to use as protection for smaller bits (Dean Scarborough).
There is no one way to have safe sex that works for everyone. What is important is finding ways to reduce the risk to a level that feels reasonable to us. For some people that might mean using barriers for every single sex act. For others that does not fit with our desires or situation, and we have to decide what risks we are willing to take in different situations.
Some of us may also form “fluid bonds,” where we choose to allow fluid exchange in one relationship but take precautions to make sure that neither person has any infections that could be sexually transmitted. Regular STI testing and sexual exclusivity or consistent use of barriers with other sexual partners is what makes this strategy effective.
If you and your partner are choosing to have unprotected sex together, but engaging in sex with other partners, you should share information about potential risk exposure with your fluid-bonded partner. If you are concerned about a potential infection, consider resuming use of protection methods with your fluid-bonded partner temporarily. If you are unable to tell your partner about the potential risk, consider engaging in lower risk activities, coming up with creative reasons (such as a minor health concern or a role-playing fantasy) for using barriers, or abstaining from sex until you can be tested (and, if necessary, treated).
The heterosexist and cissexist way that pregnancy is typically talked about can make it easy to forget that many trans people are capable of becoming pregnant or getting someone else pregnant. It is also often assumed, even among trans people, that wishing to give birth or impregnate someone somehow makes us less trans. This is simply not true. It is just as valid for us to want to produce our own children as it is to want to avoid it.
Discussing the issue of pregnancy with a partner can be difficult, as it may remind us of sexual anatomy that does not represent our gender. However, not talking about the possibility of pregnancy when that possibility exists can result in us or our partners becoming unexpectedly pregnant. See Chapter 11 for more on contraception.
There are a number of tools that we can use to expand and improve our sexual experiences. We may incorporate tools or toys into our sex life for a number of reasons. For example, we may want to make some sexual practices more comfortable, affirm or reinforce our gender presentation, or help ourselves or our partners achieve orgasm.
Lubricant (lube), which helps reduce friction and irritation during sex, can be an important tool for making our sex lives safer and more fun. In addition to feeling unpleasant, friction can create small tears in the skin and cause condoms to break, increasing our risk of getting STIs.
Everyone can use lube, but as trans people, we often need lube even more than cis people. Taking testosterone can reduce the natural lubrication in a front hole, and in most cases, vaginoplasty does not create a self-lubricating vagina. The anus does not typically produce sufficient lubrication for penetration.
Lube can be purchased in many different places, from the grocery or drugstore to specialty sex shops and online retailers. There are many different kinds and brands of lube, and each one feels different depending on its type, thickness, and components. Whether you have many options, or just a few, know what is in the lube you choose:
• Oil-based lubes will break down latex and should be avoided when using condoms and other latex barriers.
• Water-based lubes are the most common sexual lubricants and are condom and barrier safe. However, they can dry out during sex. You can reactivate the lube with water—or just keep plenty around and reapply as needed.
• Silicone-based lube is also condom and barrier safe, but it may require soap to wash off. Some people prefer it because it is less likely to dry out.
Some people will have an allergic reaction to certain kinds of lube. Try spot testing the lube by rubbing a small amount on the inside of your wrist before using it on your genitals. All lubricants are different, and some people may have nonallergic, but still negative, reactions to a particular lube. For example, some lubes contain glycerin, which is added to many flavored lubes as a sweetener and to some unflavored lubes for texture. Because glycerin is a form of sugar, it can increase the likelihood of yeast infections. Applied anally, it can also act as a laxative, encouraging the user to have to use the bathroom. Other ingredients in some lubes may also cause changes in the pH balance of your genitals or disrupt the natural bacterial growth inside your body. Bacterial infections and yeast infections can affect anyone, regardless of gender. If you notice any bad odors, discharge, or discomfort (such as itching or burning) after using a new lubricant, stop using it. If the symptoms do not subside, consider seeing a health provider and getting tested for STIs.
Genital pumps are typically hand-operated and include a clear cylinder that is used to create suction to enlarge body parts and engorge them with blood. Pumps can be used on external genitals, nipples, genital openings, or the anus. Pumping can create increased sensitivity and an intense tugging sensation, which some of us find very pleasurable. Pulling blood into an area can help create erections and temporarily increase genital size. A cock ring, which keeps blood from flowing back out of the body part being pumped, can be used to help sustain erections.
Using a pump for penetration (Dean Scarborough).
When using a pump, try to get a good seal between the cylinder and your skin. Warming the area and encouraging blood flow by being turned on can help. Body hair can prevent a good seal, so shaving or using a thick water-based lube can help. Pumps can be tested on a less sensitive area like the thigh in order to practice and become familiar with using them. There is typically a quick release valve. Be sure to go slowly and experiment when first getting used to a pump. Be sure you know how to release the pressure before using it on your genitals. If pumping is done too frequently or too strongly, it can desensitize the area or even cause burst capillaries. If you notice blue or purple marks or bumps under the skin where you have been pumping, remove the pump immediately and ice the area to decrease swelling. After removing the pump, the area will continue to be extra sensitive for a while.
With certain kinds of pumps, the tube and pump can be detached while leaving the cylinder suctioned on to play with. Some of us use a pump, remove the tube, and then slide an erection-enlarging sheath (extender) over the cylinder, which can be used for penetration and is also stimulating to the wearer. Extenders are marketed for cis men who want bigger endowments, but they can be used by other folks as well with a little creativity.
Many people have the false belief that sex toys are only for cis women or are just for masturbation. This is not true. Toys are for anyone who enjoys them, whenever we want to use them. While not everyone enjoys or can achieve orgasm from vibration or penetration, many people do—regardless of their gender or the shape of their genitals.
“Since going on HRT, I have erectile dysfunction and so we have figured out other ways to have sex, including the use of toys, vibrators and strap-ons.”
Rodeoh (Courtney Trouble).
Material is an important consideration when buying sex toys. Most commonly, sex toys are made with jelly rubber, hard plastic, or silicone. A sex toy should say on its packaging what it is made of. If it does not say what the materials are, chances are that it is jelly rubber or some form of plastic. Silicone toys tend to advertise themselves as such.
Jelly rubber toys can be good for first-time buyers, who are unsure what they want, since they are often much less expensive than their more lasting counterparts. The reason they are so cheap is that jelly rubber is a porous material, meaning that it absorbs fluids, bacteria, and fungi, and it cannot be sterilized. Some jelly rubber toys also leak toxic chemicals called phthalates, which may be carcinogenic and can cause irritation in contact with the delicate tissues of our genitals. Sex toys made from jelly rubber are thus best used with a condom.
Hard plastic is an excellent material for sex toys. Hard plastic can be cleaned with soap and water, bleach, alcohol, or other cleaning products, so long as the cleaning materials are rinsed off thoroughly before putting the toy near our genitals.
Silicone sex toys tend to be expensive, but they also usually last longer and are better made. Silicone is a nonporous material, which means that it is easily sterilized and can be used without condoms. (However, condoms are great when sharing toys or if you want to alternate between anal penetration and front-hole penetration.) Silicone comes in a variety of textures, from toys that are very soft and feel fleshy and realistic, to very hard toys that feel almost as firm as hard plastic.
Many sex toys on the market today are being made with thermal plastic, which has a very realistic feel but is very porous. Some sex toys are also made of natural materials like wood, steel, glass, or ceramic. Find out what material your sex toys are made of and how to best use and clean them.
Even people who have access to sex stores may not want to shop there. Many sex stores are directed at cis men, and they can seem like very hostile environments to anyone who is read as female or gender nonconforming. Other sex stores are directed solely at cis women, and they may police the genders of those who try to enter. Even sex stores that are not gender specific can feel unwelcoming to trans people, as they may separate their merchandise into “men’s” and “women’s” sections, implicitly meaning cis men and cis women. Check the store’s Web site or call beforehand to find out more about whether they are trans friendly. Many stores in gay neighborhoods or ones that are identified as queer or feminist may be more likely to be trans friendly.
For those of us without nearby trans-friendly sex toy shops, Internet stores are a good option. Most reputable online sex toy vendors have review sections, in which customers comment on how intense a vibrator is, how many batteries it consumes, a toy’s texture and materials, or if it is really as big or small as it looks. Most online stores will also send products in unmarked or generic packaging. There are plenty of ways we can safely and anonymously get what we want.
Vibrators are sex toys that vibrate. Vibrators today come in many shapes and sizes and can be used for a wide variety of erogenous zones. Some vibrators are shaped like a phallus and may be used for penetration. Some of these are specifically designed to reach the prostate. Others are designed to be used externally on the genitals, perineum, nipples, feet, or anywhere else we want. Vibrators can be especially good tools for those of us who want to experience genital stimulation but due to body dysphoria do not want to touch our genitals directly. For those of us who enjoy touching our genitals or having them touched, a vibrator can add additional stimulation. Some of us cannot orgasm from manual touch because it does not provide enough intensity, and we may require a vibrator to orgasm.
When shopping for a vibrator in a store with demo models, a good way to test vibrators is to touch them to the tip of the nose. Consider the power source for vibrators before buying them. Some vibrators plug into a wall socket, while others have removable batteries or rechargeable batteries. Check what kind of batteries are needed and how many before taking a new vibrator home. Battery vibrators are by far the most common type, though the market is changing very rapidly, and many of the newer products use charging cradles, USB connections, or other electronics to keep them charged for action.
There are not very many vibrators that run directly from plug-in power, but those that do tend to be especially intense. Consider first testing a plug-in vibrator with a towel between the vibrator and your body before using it directly on your genitals or other sensitive areas. Plug-in vibrators are often marketed as back massagers rather than sex toys, and they may be found in drug stores, health and body stores, and other mainstream outlets. This may make them more accessible to those of us who do not otherwise have access to sex toys.
When traveling with plug-in or plug-charged vibrators, remember that different countries have different standard voltages, so plugging a vibrator into a socket outside the country in which it was purchased could potentially destroy the motor. When traveling with vibrators that use battery power, one option is to tape them securely into the “off” position or remove the batteries to make sure our bags do not start vibrating while being inspected.
Self-pleasure with a dildo (Ron Burton).
Dildos are sex toys shaped like a phallus. Dildos can be used for masturbation. They can also be used by a partner who holds the dildo or straps it on with a harness. Dildos can be used for penetration, but they have many other uses. We may strap on a dildo, for instance, and have a partner perform oral sex on the dildo. Anyone can use a dildo for penetration, regardless of their gender identity, the gender they were designated at birth, or the shape of their genitals. For example, those of us who are trans women sometimes use strap-on dildos to penetrate our partners. Just as strap-ons can be used by anyone regardless of gender, no one is obligated to enjoy strap-ons. For some of us, wearing a strap-on can cause us to feel dysphoric. Trans men, for example, are not obligated to like wearing a strap-on just because they are men.
“I like using strap-ons but sometimes the thought of it makes me very upset since I can’t feel it.”
“I am not particularly interested in strapping on a dildo, but would do so if the occasion called for it if I really really liked the person.”
“Now that I’m more gender-queer I really love to wear a strap-on, and I particularly like to top males with it because I’m a fag.”
Selecting the right dildo is important. Some of us have a very clear sense of what shape and size our external genitals should be, so finding a dildo that fits that mental image can be critical. Others of us specifically want to avoid the appearance of external genitals. Dildos come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, colors, and textures. Some are promoted as coming in “skin colors” with “realistic” shapes and textures. Others are manufactured in bright, unnatural colors with textures and shapes designed to feel good on specific parts of our bodies.
Like dildos, harnesses also come in many shapes and sizes. They are typically designed to have a dildo inserted into them so that the dildo is held in place on the front of the body when the harness is on properly. Some have adjustable straps and can be shared easily (once washed). Others fit like underwear and need to be bought in the appropriate size.
Sex with a strap-on (Ron Burton).
Prosthetic cocks are phallus-shaped dildos that can be worn over our other bits. They can be used or worn by people of all genders, sexes, and identities—and there are various types created for different bodies. They are also sometimes called “packers” or “packs.” Packers can be hard or soft, and they can be worn throughout the day or put on before or during sex. Some of us identify more strongly with one cock or packer; some of us use multiple different packs to our liking. We may wear a soft packer during the day, or when out in public; we may put on a hard packer when expecting intimacy. Some packers allow the user to stand to pee. See Chapter 8 for more information on packers.
Many sex toy manufacturers produce what are called masturbation sleeves. They are designed to be pleasurable to penetrate, often with textured patterns on the inside. Some of them may have openings made to resemble genitals, anuses, or mouths, but others have plain, nondescript openings.
Sleeves may be made of silicone or jelly rubber like other sex toys. Those made of silicone can be more easily washed and sterilized, while those made from jelly rubber need more careful washing, cannot be sterilized, and as a result may wear out faster. Trans women and others assigned male might appreciate these toys. Difficulty with erections or dysphoria might become problems, but some sleeves are made in a small egg shape and may work more easily without erections or for anyone with smaller genitals.
For those who cannot tolerate penetration but want to please their partner by providing it, or who want to be penetrated in the front but cannot be, one option is to place a masturbation sleeve between our thighs and have our partner penetrate the sleeve.
Aimee Herman disembowels the language of gender, body, sexual diversions, and scar tissue in her book of poetry: to go without blinking.
I am seven. I am eight.
David Achbar sits behind me in first grade. He taps me on the shoulder and gestures for me to look down. David’s tiny dick is dangling between his gangly legs, shorts pulled past knees.
I say nothing, though I wonder how long I’ll have to wait before what sits between my legs grows long like his.
I am thirteen. I am fourteen.
My mother stuffs my torso in buttons and lace and I wonder if boy and girl gender can be interrupted by a third called tablecloth, called ironed out and lovely and fit for Thanksgiving china placed over belly and smooth legs and I can check the box labeled “L” for linen as gender.
“F” translated as folded and “M” for muddled and mussed. What is between M and F? The slash. The or. Can someone just choose the slash?
My mother takes me to the mall where big-boned woman wearing lipstick on teeth finds a training bra with built-in drill sergeant. What if I am not ready to enlist in breast boot camp?
I am sixteen. I am seventeen.
I trade in my dresses for jeans, torn at the knees from running fast and falling without rhythm. My hair becomes the last part of me that is not mine anymore. It is my mother’s, who brushed it on days when the knots screamed. It is my grandmother’s, who always begged me not to cut it.
I grab scissors, gather my hair between my fingers, and begin to cut.
One inch for each twist of hair held by my mother, who left me when I was twelve when I needed her to tell me she’d love me, girl or boy or just the slash, without exchanging pills for potatoes as a side with my supper. Without sending me into rooms to be analyzed because I was lingering my looks at girls instead of boys. Being called a tomboy felt more complimentary than pretty or girly.
Two inches for my vagina, for feeling like I am mourning something that has remained but become something else, has begun to stand for something more than just a genital. It stands for something more than the F after the slash following the M. I feel a desire to fight it out of me, fight it off of me, somehow change its purpose or intended architectural reasoning.
Three inches for this time of my life where Queer Straight Alliances happened elsewhere, far enough that I had no idea what QSA stood for, that it meant alliance. That it meant bridge of communication. That it meant help.
Four inches for the boy in my high school who didn’t make it, who decided to wrap his neck in knots made from Boy Scout training rather then ask for hands to hold him. When he hung away his life, they finally started to pay attention. They wrapped ribbons around their brand new sports cars’ antennas and missed football-cheerleading-math club practice to attend his funeral. And for the other boy who gathered his lunch quickly into his mouth each Monday through Friday in crowded cafeteria where tater tots and ignorance arrived on the side of each plastic sectioned tray. I always wanted to tell him to slow down. He rushed each bite as though preparing for war, as though bombs were just below him and he just wanted to digest before the eruption and removal of limbs.
And one more inch for that time the whispers grew louder and I heard the word FAGGOT for the first time in my suburbia. And the way this boy’s face changed from careful to cautious to deeply concerned, in search of the nearest exit sign. The way they spoke it as though it was his name like Charles or Greg. Hey, Faggot, did you get the notes from last class? Hey, Faggot, I’ll bring my extra Nintendo controller when I come over to your house today.
In this inch, I cut away the shame. I take back words used as weaponry, but really just letters pressed together and I replace the bullets with blanks.
There are as many ways to be sexual as there are people. How we have sex is not determined by our gender or sexual orientation. No matter how we identify, we choose the kinds of touch we enjoy, decide whether we enjoy penetrating or being penetrated (or both, or neither), and how we want to work and play with our partners to have satisfying, fulfilling sex lives.
One of the most challenging areas of sex that many of us face is penetration. Our culture sends us many messages about who enjoys penetration, and how. But these messages ignore the wide range of people who enjoy different kinds of sexual penetration. For some of us, giving or receiving penetration can be a way to affirm our gender, while for others, the opposite is true. For many of us, there are specific practices, positions, and toys that we enjoy, even if we are uncomfortable in other situations. Some of us enjoy penetration—just not with our genitals. When we leave behind cissexist, homophobic ideas about sex, we may discover that there are a fabulous variety of different ways to penetrate and be penetrated.
“When I feel as though I am expected to act very ‘macho, ’ that makes me uncomfortable, but I am comfortable with most sex acts. I don’t think that for instance, penetrating my partner with my penis is an inherently ‘macho’ act (it’s like an organic strap-on, I suppose). However, sometimes after sex (after I orgasm), that can make me feel very unpleasant. So I’ve thought about tucking and using a strap-on instead of using my penis.”
“I have always been uncomfortable with being penetrated anywhere unless I am extraordinarily comfortable with my partner. It is more about vulnerability and fear of being dominated than it is about my gender, however.”
Penetration is far from the only way we can have sex. Touch, massage, licking, sucking, fantasy, and fetishes are all ways that many of us enjoy sex with our partners that do not involve penetration.
There are many types of sexual contact that do not focus on our genitals. As trans people, some of us may feel dysphoria around our genitals, and many of us choose to instead explore different ways to have sex. Erogenous zones exist all over the body. For some of us these may include the scalp, earlobes, armpits, inner thighs, feet, or neck. Sexual play may involve sensual kissing, touching, or massaging these areas, and it can be very intense even without any genital touching.
For some of us, oral sex can feel like an up-close inspection of our genitals—which can be anxiety provoking, especially if our genitals feel wrong for our gender identity. But for those of us who do enjoy giving or receiving oral sex, the ways in which we enjoy doing so may also be very individual and include a lot of variation.
There are many different ways to use our mouths to lick, suck, or penetrate someone. Our tongues are muscular and can be made into a variety of different shapes. Being licked by the firm tip of a stiff tongue is different from being licked with the soft surface of a flat tongue. Try a variety of different tongue movements and shapes to see what your partner likes best. Trace shapes with your tongue and see what patterns they like.
Letting someone lick or suck on our bits can be very exciting for some of us, and too intense for others. Be sure to ask your partner what they like. Some people like the tongue to be wiggled back and forth, while others like an up-and-down stroke. Some enjoy stimulation with the lips. Some like to be nibbled or outright bitten with teeth. Always, always ask before using your teeth—and keep in mind that breaking the skin can also increase the risk of infections, such as HIV or hepatitis.
There also many places we like to be licked. Between our navels and our knees there are lots of very sensitive areas that feel wonderful when touched, licked, or sucked. The anus, the perineum (the strip of skin between the genitals and the anus), and our genitals are some of the most sensitive spots, and licking and sucking these areas is one way many of us experience orgasms.
No matter what kind of genitals we have, we can enjoy the kinds of oral stimulation that feel right for us. Big bits and small bits can both be sucked or licked.
Most of us have particularly sensitive areas on the tip and along the underside of our bits, large and small, that we may enjoy having licked during oral sex. For those of us with larger bits, our partners can use their hands or a dental dam to flatten our genitals onto our body to receive different kinds of stimulation and attention. A dental dam used this way can also act as a gender-affirming barrier for some of us.
Using a dental dam on a trans woman (Dean Scarborough).
For some of us, suction is our favorite type of oral stimulation. Some of us enjoy intense suction, while others prefer a gentle slurp. Again, ask to find out. When taking someone’s genitals into your mouth, remember to cover your teeth. Do this by wrapping your lips over your front teeth to form a ring of soft tissue between your teeth and your partner’s body.
“Wearing a cock and having it (or my own clit, which I often refer to as my dick) sucked is way more comfortable and pleasurable.”
Depending on our partner’s anatomy, there may be lots of parts for us to suck. Anything that points away from or hangs down from the body can go in our mouths. If a partner has external gonads (which some people refer to as testicles), be careful about how you suck them. Most people get more pleasure from stimulating the loose, soft skin around the glands rather than from pressure to the glands themselves.
Hands can also be helpful to keep us from gagging or choking if our partner has larger genitals. Gauge how much length you can comfortably take in your mouth—for most people it’s about 3 inches. Wrap one hand around your partner’s genitals at or right below the maximum length you can take. By doing this, we can prevent ourselves from taking more than we can handle, while also manually stimulating the parts of a partner’s genitals that are outside our mouth. This is especially helpful if a partner enjoys thrusting, since otherwise this might cause us to gag.
If a partner’s genitals are larger, we may want to try deep throating them. Many of us have a gag reflex, however, and deep throating can trigger this. The gag reflex is a natural self-preservation response built into our bodies to prevent choking, so if you cannot manage to overcome it, there is no need to feel ashamed. Some people can either work around their gag reflex, train themselves out of it, or did not have a sensitive one to start with. Certain positions can also be helpful. Any position that aligns our mouth with our esophagus in a relatively straight line can make larger genitals easier to take. For example, lying on our back with our head over the edge of the bed, our mouth lines up with our throat. The key is to relax as much as we can. When we are nervous, our body’s automatic self-defense responses, such as our gag reflex, tend to increase in sensitivity and intensity. As with any sexual activity, it may take some practice to learn how to deep throat.
Many people require consistent movement or suction to orgasm. When performing oral sex, it can sometimes take a long time for a partner to orgasm. Pace yourself, and use your hands when you need a break.
Analingus, also known as rimming, is performing oral sex on the anus. Lots of people enjoy it, and for some trans people it can be a pleasure to receive oral sex on a body part that is not seen as gender specific. For those of us assigned male who have not had vaginoplasties, analingus can be a great analog for cunnilingus in a way that is not currently possible for us.
Oral sex performed on the anus comes with health risks. In addition to all the usual STI concerns, rimming can also put us at risk for diseases specific to oral-fecal contact, such as Giardia and E. coli. While safer sex is always a good idea, analingus in particular is a great time to bring out the barriers.
Some people feel safe and comfortable rimming without protection. If you are going to do this, wash the anus with soap beforehand, including inside the first sphincter. Enemas, which insert liquid into the rectum, can be used as prep for any kind of anal sex. They are by no means necessary, and they do have their drawbacks. If you do use an enema, remember to perform it 2 hours in advance rather than right before, as enemas can cause us to need to use the bathroom and can also leave unexpected water in the rectum, which most people do not want to discover with their mouths. Rimming is otherwise straightforward. Licking, sucking, kissing, and penetrating can all be fun, so experiment and see what you and your partner enjoy.
Hands have dexterity and versatility that genitals do not have, and they have the added benefit of carrying less gender significance. Unlike genitals, however, fingers have fingernails, and these have to be trimmed down to the pink in order to be safely inserted into someone else. If you trim your nails right before using them inside someone’s body, be sure to use a file or emery board to smooth out rough edges—better yet, trim them in advance to avoid sharp edges. For those of us who enjoy having long nails, we can insert cotton balls into the fingers of gloves to make our nails safer for penetration. Fingering—using our fingers to press, rub, stroke, and touch our partner’s sexual spots—can be fun for people with almost any anatomical configuration.
Fisting is when the whole hand is inserted into the body. It can provide a very pleasurable sense of fullness and pressure in either the anus or a front hole. However, not everyone enjoys the sensation—and if it hurts, slow down. Fisting should be tried very carefully, slowly, and with lots of lube. It is a good idea to wear latex gloves when fisting, particularly for anal fisting, or if you have hangnails or other sores or cuts on your fingers.
The receptive partner should be relaxed and aroused to make fisting enjoyable. When you are ready to insert more than just a few fingers into your partner, press your fingertips together to form a “duckbill” and insert this slowly into either the front hole or the anus. Use lots of lube, and add more as you go. When you get the widest part of the knuckles past the pelvic muscles or sphincters, your hand will naturally curl into a fist. Once you get to this point, ask your partner how much or how little movement they want.
People of any gender identity and birth designation may have smaller external genitals. What we are able to penetrate and how we go about doing it depends on both the size and firmness of our genitals. If our genitals do not become very erect, are relatively small, or located in such a way that achieving penetration can be difficult in most positions, there is a lot we can still do.
Experiment with positions to see what works best. Sometimes the position of our genitals on our body makes penetration difficult. Some of us can penetrate more easily if our partner is on top. Another way to increase our ability to penetrate someone if we have smaller genitals is to place a hand on the flesh of our pubic mound just above our external genitals and pull the flesh upwards so that our genitals slide further up on our pubic mound. This can move our external genitals into a more accessible position. Inserting a finger or fingers along with the external genitals can be another way of going deeper and increasing pleasure with penetration.
For many people, starting testosterone therapy can have quite dramatic effects. Growth of genital erectile tissue is stimulated by testosterone. This means that many female-assigned people who take testosterone experience major shifts in the size and shape of our external genitals.
“With the changes brought on by testosterone, both my girlfriend and I feel that I have an ordinary dick. We do all the old-fashioned vanilla stuff most straight folks do.”
For those of us with larger external genitals, we may wish to use them for penetration. Plenty of people engage in this type of sex, and it is fine for us as trans people to do so as well. Some of us who were assigned male at birth fear that engaging in this kind of sex will mean that we are “not really trans,” but this is not true. People of all genders, trans and cis, choose to penetrate their partners.
Hormones affect our ability to achieve and maintain erections. Those of us on androgen blockers or estrogen therapy may need assistance to become erect or want to figure out ways to penetrate our partner without an erection. It may be helpful to try different types of stimulation or more stimulation to become erect. “Cock rings,” which go around the base of our genitals, or pumps may be helpful. Some of us use medications like Viagra to produce erections. Viagra generally works even if we are taking androgen blockers and undergoing estrogen replacement therapy. For some of us, skipping an antiandrogen dose or reworking our estrogen schedule helps. If you feel comfortable, it can be useful to discuss this with a health provider to best balance your transition needs and ensure that you minimize risks of altering your hormone protocols.
It is possible for some of us to penetrate a partner with our nonerect genitals. Patience is key, as well as moving slowly to prevent ourselves from falling out during sex. It may be difficult to use a traditional condom on nonerect genitals, but a partner can wear a receptive condom (“female condom”) as a barrier method.
Penetrative anal sex can be very enjoyable and comes with the added bonus that all of us have this part of our bodies.
“I love anal sex. Partly why I love it is because it can be performed with anyone, regardless of body parts.”
To have safe, pleasurable anal sex, lube is a necessary first step. The second step is relaxation. The anus has two sphincters. We can consciously control the outer layer of muscle but not the inner layer. This means we have to be very gentle with the inner ring. Its job is to keep tight at all times, so learning to relax it can take practice and patience. Start with smaller objects like fingers or small toys and work your way up.
Those of us who were assigned male at birth also have prostates. Stimulating this gland via anal penetration can be very sexually pleasurable. The prostate is located 1–3 inches inside the anus, on the side closest to the front of the body.
Be careful that anything you put into your anus is not capable of slipping completely inside—it should either be firmly attached to something or have a flared base. Otherwise insertables may get sucked in by the muscles inside us, which can result in a costly and embarrassing trip to the hospital.
Always use lube when inserting genitals, fingers, or toys in the anus. It is also a good idea to use a condom, especially if your partner produces ejaculatory fluid, to prevent HIV and other STIs. Condoms also make it easy to clean up genitals or toys after anal penetration. If you are using your fingers or hands, it is a great idea to wear gloves for the same reasons.
Those of us who were assigned female at birth usually have a front hole, unless we have chosen to have it surgically removed via vaginectomy. Many of us have complicated feelings about using our front holes for penetrative sex. We may be turned off by it because front holes are gendered as female. On the other hand, there are many of us who enjoy front-hole sex a great deal. However we enjoy using our genitals is great, and it does not invalidate our genders.
Sometimes we enjoy front-hole penetration with hands or toys as part of other sexual acts, such as receiving a blow job. Some of us find that we are more comfortable enjoying front-hole penetration if our partners use hands or toys, instead of their genitals. Some of us choose sexual positions that are not as gendered as “missionary style” sex, such as being on top of the other person while we are being penetrated, or having the other person penetrate us from behind.
The front hole is very muscular, and while its own tissues have very few nerves of their own, it is connected to many other sensitive parts of our body—parts of the clitoris/cock can be stimulated through front-hole penetration, for example. The clitoris/cock has two “legs” which run down inside our bodies from the pubic bone on either side of the opening of the front hole where they end at the anus, and these are part of what is stimulated during penetration of either the anus or the front hole.
About one-third of the way inside the front hole, on the front side of the body (closest to the navel), is an area often called the G-spot. This area may include other glands that provide lubrication and parts of the clitoris. Stimulation of the G-spot can be extremely pleasurable for some, while others may find it uncomfortable or unpleasant. Pressure on it can make us feel like we have to pee, especially at first. During orgasm, many people experience fluid release from glands that are thought to be located in this area. This can be as subtle as a general increase in lubrication or as extreme as a high-pressure, high-volume squirt.
“Sometimes I worry because I enjoy sexual acts that don’t fit with my idea of myself as a dominant male. But by worrying about it, I know that I am just giving credit to useless stereotypes, so I tell myself to ignore it and carry on!”
“Penetration of the front hole used to terrify and nauseate me. Post-T, I love it. I’ve fucked two guys with it. Damn, that statement is weird.”
Some of us do not produce enough lubrication for comfortable penetration, or we stop being able to because of changes caused by testosterone. Lube is often necessary for front-hole sex. Choose lube carefully based on the type of sex and any allergies you may have. In general, water-based lubes can be used with most sex toys and barrier methods.
Those who have been on testosterone treatments may bleed after front-hole penetration, as testosterone can cause thinning of the mucus membranes. Sex where fingers are inserted into the front hole, in particular, may cause bleeding, as may the insertion of larger objects. Starting with smaller insertables and working slowly to larger ones can help prevent bleeding. Listen to your body’s cues. If it feels good, keep doing it, but if you notice any discomfort or distress, you may want to slow down or stop and figure out whether you want to keep being penetrated.
Surgically constructed genitals have qualities that others do not. Most vaginoplasty surgical techniques are not able to produce genitals that self-lubricate. As a result, many of us need plenty of lube for penetration to be comfortable. Genitals produced in this way may be limited to smaller objects for penetration, or they may require extra dilation to take larger objects.
“Over the years my libido has increased to the point where I enjoy sex thoroughly and unashamedly. I never knew if my vagina worked until I was 26 years post op. ‘How bizarre is that, ’ everyone exclaims.”
Penetration of surgically constructed genitals is mostly similar to what we would expect for other orifices. That said, there are a few things to keep in mind. Many details of anatomy may vary depending on the surgeon and the surgical technique used—placement of the new vagina in relation to the prostate, for example. Because the G-spot is made up of erectile tissue around the urethra that everyone has, after vaginoplasty there will be both a G-spot and a prostate that can be stimulated from inside the vagina. Results vary based on a number of factors, but the internal tissues will not be as stretchy as they are in someone born with a front hole. Most people who have had vaginoplasty report not being able to be fisted, although in some cases it may be possible. Regular dilation will affect the size to which our vagina can comfortably stretch. For more information, see Chapter 13 and talk to your individual surgeon.
Bleeding during sex can be a special concern for those of us who have had vaginoplasties. We may bleed occasionally after penetration. Bleeding is not necessarily a concern, however, depending on how it occurs. It can be normal to go to the bathroom after sex and find pink smears on the toilet paper. However, if you bleed a lot, for extended periods of time, or start finding blood clots, seek medical attention immediately.
Muffing is a slang term for penetration of the inguinal canal. The inguinal canal is the passage through which people’s external gonads (what a health provider calls testicles) descend from the abdomen, and into which the gonads are typically pushed back up when tucking. (For more information on tucking, see Chapter 8.) The inguinal canal is also the place where doctors give hernia exams, which might include the instruction “Turn your head and cough.” For those of us who have experienced penetration or stimulation of this body part only while in a provider’s office, we may not be instantly excited to try it. However, there is a big difference between a medical exam done for diagnostic purposes and something done with the intention of sexual pleasure and self-exploration.
Muffing (Ron Burton).
During muffing, because the skin covering the external gonads is loose, it simply moves into the canal along with the finger when pushed. The inguinal canal is a comparatively small cavity, but it can vary greatly in size from person to person. Experience playing in the area may increase its capacity over time. When first exploring, many of us find we can take only one finger up to about the first knuckle. Other people can receive a whole thumb or more.
Nerves in the area of the inguinal canal can be very sensitive, so it is important not to push ourselves and to begin exploration slowly. The sensation of muffing can be very different from other kinds of sexual stimulation, and there is little to which it can be compared. The intensity of the sensation may feel uncomfortable at first, but many people find it powerfully pleasurable and a good way to experience being penetrated in the front when they would not otherwise be able to.
Sounding, or inserting objects into the urethra, is most commonly done by those of us whose urethral opening is located at the tip of our external genitals. Sounding can be a very pleasurable form of penetration and can be done on both erect and flaccid genitals.
The urethra is very sensitive to infection, so it requires very smooth objects and sterile lube (which is different than ordinary personal lubricants). Use stainless steel or hard plastic rods designed specifically for urethral insertion. Do not use household items such as pens, nails, or other similar objects. Rods designed for sounding can be purchased in a variety of gauges—start small and work your way up if you are interested in sounding. Sounding rods can be purchased in kits that have a range of sizes, and they often come with cleaning supplies.
While sounding is possible for those of us whose urethra is not located at the tip of external genitals, it is far more difficult and dangerous.
We do not have to like latex, leather, or whips to be kinky. There are many elements of kink that we use in our sex lives without realizing it. If you have ever given or received a hickey and liked it, then you enjoyed marking or biting your partner. If you have ever enjoyed consensually holding someone down or being held down yourself, then you have enjoyed a form of dominance/submission and power exchange. If you have ever used handcuffs or blindfolds, you have experimented with erotic restraint and sensory deprivation. “Kinky” people are often just those who have created names for certain types of intimacy and experimented with them more.
Fully expanded, the acronym BDSM means Bondage & Discipline, Dominance & Submission, and Sadomasochism. BDSM is also sometimes referred to as kink. What it boils down to is people enjoying a variety of different sensation types, consensual power dynamics, and sex fantasies.
“I think that getting involved in the kink/leather/BDSM community has really opened up my perspective on what are ‘acceptable’ sex acts for a man, and has helped me divorce gender from power, penetration, and dominance.”
“I was never into BDSM or leather or kink when I was married. My second lesbian partner introduced me to that.”
“Recently, I have begun to explore BDSM with my new partner. I am very interested in pursuing this, always have been, but was really waiting for someone to explore with whom I felt I could really trust.”
Many of us have had fantasies that involve power, domination, submission, or role dynamics, such as teacher/student or boss/employee. Many people think of these as “just fantasy” and never realize that such scenarios can be safely and responsibly acted out in real life without any real authority figures being involved.
For many people who do not desire genital sex, kink can be a great substitute. For those who do, it can be a fun addition to our repertoire. Giving and receiving consensual pain, for example, can create intense intimacy and give both parties the same kind of emotional “high” as orgasm. While kink may not always result in the specific kind of physical pleasure we call climax, kink can give some people feelings of intense euphoria, pleasure, connectedness, and passion in much the same way that genital sex might.
Certain types of play are more dangerous than others. If you are interested in experimenting with something comparatively risky, like needles, seek in-depth information from experienced sources. Everything that goes into making safe, consensual, and fulfilling sex is true of kink as well: Be careful about consent, negotiate before you play, have check-ins, and give each other aftercare. Practice good communication with your partners and negotiate safe words before beginning play.
Having fantasies about traumatic situations is a relatively common response in those of us who have either been traumatized by individuals or have been culturally traumatized by what has happened to people around us. In particular, some survivors of violence (sexual or not) may have rape fantasies or fantasies about other forms of brutality. Some trans people have fantasies of being misgendered, degendered, attacked, or oppressed. This is not because we enjoy being oppressed or violated in real life; rather, it is simply one way the brain tries to process such traumas.
In some of us, fantasies of this type can be a form of emotional self-harm. If these fantasies cause you to feel depressed or worthless, consider seeking emotional support for dealing with these destructive thoughts.
In other cases, fantasies of oppression or violence can be a useful tool in healing. We may not have had the power to keep ourselves safe in real life when we experienced trauma, but in fantasy we have the power to experience frightening or damaging events and come out safe and whole. In our fantasies we may be saved by our friends, beat up our attackers, scream until our rapist runs away, or do whatever we need that we could not do when the trauma occurred.
Involving a safe partner in our fantasies can be a way to process and heal the trauma. Acting out a misgendering scene with someone who cares about us and understands our gender as well as the importance of respectful communication, for example, can allow us to feel the feelings we were too overwhelmed to feel before. We can get a chance to be comforted afterward. Many of us wish that the people who have hurt or abandoned us would apologize and give us the care we need in order to heal, and role play of this type is one way to get some form of closure.
If you engage in this sort of role play, please be careful. Consent, check-ins, and a good support network are more important here than ever. Role playing in this way can bring up traumas we did not realize were still affecting us or cause unexpected emotions. Any slips in communication can be disastrous. If you try anything like this, be sure to have a good support network in place to help you cope with any unintended consequences.
People enter sex work for a variety of reasons. For some of us, it might be something we feel good at or enjoy. It could be that it offers the best flexibility and freedom to accommodate our disabilities or childcare responsibilities. It could be that it allows for greater income than other jobs available to us. Or it could be because we have no other choice. Sex work can include a variety of kinds of jobs, such as street work, performing in porn, escorting, erotic massage, pro-dom/pro-sub, or Webcam work. It can include both legal and criminalized work, and laws about exactly what is criminalized vary from state to state and country to country. See Chapter 9 for more about sex work as a job.
Sex workers have friends, partners, and relationships just like everyone else. If you have a friend who is doing sex work or you are dating a sex worker, there are some useful things to keep in mind.
• Respect their boundaries. Do not pry for gossip if they do not seem interested in talking about it, and do not tell others about their work without their permission.
• Do not project your judgments. You might think that sex work is horrifying or that it is the coolest thing in the world, but they might not see it that way. It is important to let them define their experience for themselves.
• . . . but don’t hide your feelings. If you have insecurities, fears, or other difficult feelings come up, find an appropriate time to discuss them.
• Sex for work can be different. A lot of sex workers make a strong distinction between sex for work and sex in their personal life. This can look different for different people, but for the most part clients and partners are not interchangeable, nor are they in competition.
• Be willing to listen. It is good not to have things feel like a secret. We all need to vent about work sometimes. If they talk about having a bad day at work, it does not mean things are horrible and they need to be rescued from their job.
• Do not fall for the stereotypes. Just because someone does sex work does not mean they are hypersexual. They might not be up for sex sometimes, and that is fine.
• Learn the issues. Sex worker organizations and advocacy groups are constantly dealing with political issues, support projects, or community building. From protesting condom confiscation by police to organizing storytelling and performance spaces, there are a lot of things that you can get involved with.
When it comes to sex, what feels right to us is what is right for us. Sex is about desire, pleasure, enjoying our bodies and others’ bodies, spending time alone, or connecting with others. Sex can be a way for us to feel empowered in our bodies and in our gender. It has the potential to bring us great pleasure and joy.
REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING
Bellwether, M. (n.d.). Fucking trans women: A zine about the sex lives of trans women. Retrieved January 2014, from http://fuckingtranswomen.tumblr.com
Blank, H. (2011). Big big love, revised: A sex and relationships guide for people of size (and those who love them). New York, NY: Random House.
Corinna, H. (n.d.). With pleasure: A view of whole sexual anatomy for every body. Scarleteen: Sex ed for the real world. Retrieved January 2014, from http://www.scarleteen.com/article/body/with_pleasure_a_view_of_whole_sexual_anatomy_for_every_body
Diamond, M. (2011). Trans/love: Radical sex beyond the binary. San Francisco, CA: Manic D Press.
Dr. Nerdlove. (2013, March 29). Getting a yes (instead of avoiding a no): The standard of enthusiastic consent. Paging Dr. Nerdlove. Retrieved January 2014, from http://www.doctornerdlove.com/2013/03/enthusiastic-consent/
Easton, D., & Liszt, C. A. (1998). How to get terrible things done to you by wonderful people. Emeryville, CA: Greenery Press.
Easton, D., & Liszt, C. A. (1998). The topping book: Or getting good at being bad. Emeryville, CA: Greenery Press.
Haines, S. (2007). Healing sex: A mind-body approach to healing sexual trauma. San Francisco, CA: Cleis.
Kaufman, M., Silverberg, C., & Odette, F. (2007). The ultimate guide to sex and disability: For all of us who live with disabilities, chronic pain and illness. San Francisco, CA: Cleis.
Masters, W. H., & Johnson, V. E. (1966). Human sexual response. Boston, MA: Little, Brown.
Taormino, T. (2008). Opening up: A guide to creating and sustaining open relationships. San Francisco, CA: Cleis.
Winks, C., & Semans, A. (2002). The good vibrations guide to sex: The most complete sex manual ever written. San Francisco, CA: Cleis.
Yourlesbianfriend. (March 22, 2013). Un-memorizing the “silence is sexy” date script. Queer Guess Code. Retrieved January 2014, from http://queerguesscode.wordpress.com/2013/03/22/un-memorizing-the-silence-is-sexy-date-script/