Those of us who are trans and gender nonconforming have complicated relationships with our bodies. People frequently assume that we detest them—that we view ourselves in mirrors with disgust, loathe our genitals or chests, and regard our physical “shells” as foreign bits of flesh we can never accept.
The idea that we might happily use these parts for sexual pleasure is often shocking. To the physicians who first began working with trans people, those who enjoyed their genitals were seen as poor candidates for transition. Arousal signified that a positive relationship with our bodies was possible, and the recommended treatment was to deny access to hormones and surgery, and to encourage people to live as their assigned genders.
Though some trans people do have extreme dysphoria and an inability to experience sexual pleasure pre-transition, this certainly does not apply to everyone.
The idea of using our genitals for pleasure can be distressing for people who live in a body that feels inauthentic. Some trans people are unable to reconcile a coherent identity as their chosen gender while living in a body that does not match. They may “cut off” their genitals in their minds long before they have any surgeries. For some, the idea of using their genitals or other gender-related body parts for sexual enjoyment may trigger extreme revulsion. As a result, many trans people feel they cannot be sexually fulfilled until after surgery.
Many trans people who have difficulty integrating the reality of their bodies with how they see themselves may not just avoid sex but also take poor care of their bodies in general. They may not exercise or may overeat. They may not pay close attention to their bodies’ rhythms and needs or may abuse alcohol or drugs. They may also feel extreme discomfort with seeking medical care, not wanting to think about, much less talk about and have examined, parts of their bodies that they do not identify with. A 2014 study at Fenway Health in Boston, published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine, showed that transgender men were less likely than cisgender women to engage in routine pap testing to detect cervical cancer. In addition to reluctance to engage in health care because of body-image issues, trans people also fear they will receive poor care or be unable to find providers who respect their identities and are knowledgeable about transgender health. According to a 2015 study examining legal protections in public accommodations in Massachusetts, 24 percent of transgender people reported discrimination in health-care settings over the past year. Health-care discrimination was associated with worse mental and physical health, as well as increased instances of postponement of needed care.
Even if the genitals we were born with do not match the idealized images we have in our heads, dysphoria does not always mean we do not want to use what we have. Being sexual despite body issues is one way of doing this, but there are others. Some trans women use their sperm to produce biological offspring, for example, despite the widespread conception that the person who has contributed sperm is the “father.”
Trans men also sometimes harvest their eggs to implant in a partner or surrogate, or become pregnant and give birth themselves. A 2014 web-based survey of forty-one transgender men who had been pregnant and delivered demonstrated that many had physically transitioned with testosterone prior to becoming pregnant. Of those on testosterone, 80 percent resumed voluntary menstruation within six months after stopping it. Almost half (46 percent) had undergone top surgery prior to conceiving. Participants discussed a number of issues that emerged for them as they planned for and then carried out their pregnancies. Some chose to see their experiences in gender-neutral or male ways, making statements like “My body was a workshop, building up this little kid” and “Pregnancy and childbirth were very male experiences for me. When I birthed my children, I was born into fatherhood.” Others had a more difficult time with the dissonance of taking on such a traditionally female task: “Heavy time, having a baby, not passing as male, all the changes and a society telling me to just be happy.”
For many trans people, the language they and others use to describe their bodies is important, and creativity can be key. Traditional words for genitalia can induce trauma; some trans people “relabel” their body parts to associate them with self-identified genders.
“Trannyclit” and “girlcock’” are occasionally used by transfeminine people and their partners when referring to what is commonly called a penis. Such words allow trans women to visualize their sexual organs—body parts they may or may not like but which they still retain and want to use. Trans men sometimes call their clitoris (which is often enlarged due to testosterone) a “dicklet” or their vagina a “manhole,” “front hole,” or “cockpit,” and what we commonly call “breasts” they may rename simply their “chest.” Applying male terms to structures traditionally thought of as female helps reconcile a body that does not conform to one’s internal self-image, as does applying female terms for traditionally male biological organs.
Many in our community seek alternate ways to sexualize their bodies. It is not uncommon for transgender and gender-nonconforming people to engage in BDSM. An acronym combining the other acronyms B&D (bondage and domination), D&S (dominance and submission), and S&M (sadomasochism), the term refers to a subculture or activities that may involve role-playing, power dynamics, or the infliction or reception of pain as a form of pleasure. BDSM provides many benefits for trans people, often allowing for pleasure while also addressing our nontraditional relationships with our bodies.
BDSM is founded on open communication, and those involved discuss sexuality with frankness. Before engaging in contact, participants tell each other how they do or do not want to be touched and where. This open communication continues throughout the “scene.” Anyone involved is able to stop the exchange at any point. BDSM provides structured environments in which people can speak openly about and meet their desires without fear of shame or retraumatization.
BDSM often involves forms of interaction that are not genital-centric. Many BDSM practices, such as spanking and flogging, focus on the back or buttocks. Bondage can provide an exhilaration that comes from controlled powerlessness. Role-playing allows the participants to creatively adopt other identities for limited times. Nontraditional bodies are not stigmatized but are appreciated or constructively fetishized, a direct opposite to the rejection and shame trans people often experience in mainstream settings.
In addition to the myth that few trans people enjoy their bodies prior to transition, there is a misconception that transgender people, especially transgender women, have little genital sensation after surgery and are unable to orgasm. However, a study of trans people post—genital surgery in England in 2006 found that all the trans men and 85 percent of the trans women were able to orgasm. A 2009 review echoed the high rates of orgasm after genital surgery. If you could before, you nearly always can after.
More and more trans and gender-nonconforming people are pursuing sexual liberation, rejecting society’s expectations that we cannot love our bodies or take pleasure from them.
In a 2016 article, “How Trans Women Are Reclaiming Their Orgasms,” Kai Cheng Thom relates how she was told by her doctor, “‘Most transsexuals find . . . their masculine sexual . . . urges are very disturbing to them. So that when they become women, they don’t need orgasms.’” She felt despondent.
Thom continued,
It wasn’t until after I went home, feeling humiliated and crushed, that I really began to think about the implication of what [the doctor had] said: When they become women, they don’t need orgasms. What the hell did that mean? That I had to choose between my sexuality and my gender identity as a woman? That trans women aren’t supposed to have a sexuality?
Thom and countless others reject the notion that our orgasms are unimportant or secondary to our gender identity. We are reclaiming our sexualities and our abilities to structure and use our bodies as we choose, regardless of outdated myths or binary social norms.
Trans and gender-nonconforming people have the right and the ability to enjoy their sexualities. Furthermore, they have the right to be complete individuals engaged in the full range of the human experience.