Trans Joy: T4T (Trans 4 Trans)
Ahead of Smutathon 2021, we’re publishing a series of Trans Joy posts. As we’re fundraising for Gendered Intelligence and Trans Lifeline this year, we want to flip the script on trans people being asked to perform their pain over and over again to prove that they deserve human rights.
Instead, we want to celebrate trans joy and gender euphoria. We’ve teamed up with Quenby Creatives, whose Trans Joy series highlights the positive side of trans experiences to bring some balance to trans discourses.
Today’s Trans Joy post is from Indigo Wolfe – a gender fluid, sex educator, sex toy maker, and aspiring therapist. They spent their entire seven (nonconsecutive) years of college finding their way towards trans activism, fat activism and anti-racism, between classes where they made every assignment about relationship psychology. They work on writing about all these topics in their spare time, which can be found at indigoisanadult.com.
T4T (Trans 4 Trans)
The intimate joy of deconstructing gender with another person is unmatched.
I never fathomed that a simple question spoken from the other end of an eight foot couch could make me feel as vulnerable as laying naked in a bed.
When they say that I am the most androgynous person they’ve ever dated, I think about my feminine side. I can feel the residue of identifying as a woman clinging onto the new identity I have created, marking me androgynous. My femininity is like clothing I wore to protect myself. I undo the buttons one by one as my partner and I dive into each others’ stories. We continue to shed clothing as we swim through the murky depths of lovers past, and the roles we never wanted to play. I wonder how I look without that femininity to dress me, and they tell me that I look wonderful all the time. We both feel closer to each other, and we’re both a little wet.
When we kiss, I can feel that gender is both the most important thing in the world, and doesn’t matter at all. Their tongue can wrap around mine and coax it into confessions. I don’t like the way my body feels sometimes. I often wonder what would happen if I could resume testosterone. They find the tender places and kiss away all my injuries. The bald patch in the center of my beard, my hips that still sit wide and feminine, and countless other reminders that I was born in a body that I need to alter in order to be comfortable. With their kiss, I feel all those worries fade away. I am whatever nebulous gender I want to be in that moment.
When they whisper in my ear that they want to suck my cock, I can understand all the layers and folds of that implication. It’s as if, before they ever get close to my genitals, they are already gently pulling back my labia. They reveal something small. It never looked like a penis, and it likely never will. We both know it’s a clitoris, and we call it that too sometimes. If I tried to only use words for penis, I would feel like I was pretending, and it would only remind me what I don’t have. The word cock encompasses all of these things. In response, I whisper back “I’d love for you to suck my cock.”
When they manage to reach the most vulnerable places in me, I sometimes wince. They know how to soothe me when that happens. Extra words of safety, and gently retreating to relieve the pressure. As I calm myself, they can ask again. I confess that sometimes I miss my previous gender, and previous spaces. I fear moving forward. They remind me of my strength, and how much I can take. Their hands are firm, but kind. When I worry about how others will see me, they can remind me that the gender other people ascribe to me is outside of my experience. At that moment, they are inside of me, and they are more important than that.
The tension in my life has been there for as long as I can remember. The release came in waves, as I started Testosterone, as I stopped buying women’s pants, as I chose new pronouns. But the relief I felt when I started dating someone trans is incomparable. Euphoric, even.
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Donate to Trans Lifeline
At time of publishing, we’ve raised: