Dating Trans
I have 20 of these post a few edits from ready to post. I lost track! Hope this isn’t a repeat.
Dating trans is complicated AF, y’all — for realz!
I have always had a sufficient number of people from around the gender wheel (“cause gender is not a traditional spectrum IMHO—more in another post) express interest in me (I’ve had self-esteem issues, so have kept a life-long tally to confirm for myself I am attractive, and prove people wanna have sex with me). Of course the number of people willing to jump into bed with me was never the issue. They were, however, interested in a person who wasn’t the real me. They were interested in a disguise constructed (forged in the tyranny of the status quo) over many years to protect Pink (the inner Pink) from the scary world of transphobia (not to mention, racism, ableism and homophobia). No wondered I’ve checked out so much during sex.
Facts about the people who wanna jump my bones. I actually have more people (look up “trannie chaser”) trying to get into me. I had no fucking idea the desire for women who were assigned male at birth (AMAB) was so pervasive. I’d been objectified and fetishized plenty as a large Black, male-performing person. I’ll just say Mandingo and let y’all do homework. Now, these bitches think just because I pick attire “off the menu” they can make all kinds of requests assuming I am at their command. This all during the first few texts, foregoing greetings. They also assume I’m just gonna invite them over, sight-unseen (which ain’t gonna happen—I’ve seen that movie. Doesn’t end well). It’s like I’m being interviewed for a job. I actually have to tell people, “trans” does not equal (≠) “on call.”
I have to vet the people I date now with so much more care (check statistics for targets of violent crimes and see where Black trans women fall). I sure as fuck ain’t inviting nobody in my house, unless I’ve run a background check and had a mofo flea-dipped. If they bat an eye at my clothes when we meet (other than to say “Those shoes are lit!)—check please. If they ask if I have a “dick?” Block. Not only do I have to avoid being a fetish, I have to avoid people whose misogyny and/or homophobia needs a target. I’m also not interested in being somebody’s “on the low” (as in down low or DL). Ain’t no misconstrued about it! These motherfuckers are explicit as fuck about the role (or roles) they expect me to play and to what I will be consenting by agreeing to fornicate with them (without actually consenting to it).
It ain’t all bad. It’s actually mostly good. I get just as many proposals as before my gender liberation. The quality (and by that I mean the manner, attitude and presentation) of the people who approach me has changed. Presenting myself as full on gender-I-don’t-know-what-that-is, I get more attention (wanted or not) from “straight-acting men.” I was gathered with a queer group in the park, when brother (as in a dude of the diaspora) walked up to me and demanded I put my phone number in his phone! Lol!
A fortunate by-product of living out loud as trans is I get hit on (and enjoy the attention of) more trans people (or at least non-binary). It’s like I’ve joined a secret society of gender outlaws. It ain’t that exciting, at least not in the adrenalin junkie kind of way. So far, I’ve found it most effortless when I’m romancing other trans people. I don’t need to spend time explaining shit and, face it, gender-nonconforming is a sexy, radical and defiant act in the face of violent repression. Yeah, that’s a person with a force of will to which I’d gladly lose a wrestling match. Uncle (or Parent’s Sibling)!!!
I’ve only just put my toe in the waters of trans life in the sunlight, and have a hunch the water is gonna be fine. What’s in the water is another story. I hope there are more heirs to the throne than toads, if you catch my drift. Ribit.
