TRANS TOUCH 2: PLATONIC TOUCH AND HUGS

(header art by Natalia Lavrinenko on Pixabay)

Welcome to Trans Tuesday! Time to dive into your survey responses and see how other trans and nonbinary folks feel about physical contact in: TRANS TOUCH 2: PLATONIC TOUCH AND HUGS.

For my own personal journey regarding physical contact and my transition, and understanding why the entire concept is so difficult for some trans folks, be sure you check out TRANS TOUCH 1 first.

Before we get to the results of the touch survey I ran, I want to mention a few things.

This is not a scientific survey, because I am not a psychologist or sociologist, nor do I have the knowledge or resources to pull off a fully scientific study. I’m just one lady trying to help.

As such, that means this is all anecdotal, but then so is a whole lot of stuff regarding trans people, because we’re such a small part of the population that it’s not profitable for people to do a lot of studies on us. See ANECDOTAL TRANS HEALTHCARE for more.

Also, to keep this survey manageable for everyone taking it, and for me in compiling and talking about the responses, it simply cannot account for every factor that may impact people’s feelings around touch and physical contact.

Yes, some people who took the survey said their feelings around touch may be affected by autism, and others said they may be affected by PTSD or other issues. And some people who answered the questions around consensual sexual touch said they were asexual, which of course factored into their responses. 

But that’s all well outside the purview of discussing transness, and would have made the survey unwieldy and inscrutable for one lone (but very smart and beautiful) woman to make any sense out of.

My goal was to get a sense of trans people’s feelings around touch at a more macro level, to look for commonalities or things that stand out. I simply cannot account for every variation humans experience with everything else that might factor in. As such, please note that there may be varying reasons for all of these answers, but all of these answers are from self-identified trans or nonbinary people. 

And that was the point.

Also, while we can easily look at the total number of responses to poll questions… I also included a freeform portion at the end, for any additional thoughts folks might have. 

I did not expect three hundred and sixty-one people to take the survey, much less for the vast majority of you to put additional thoughts in, which ranged from a sentence to nearly full essays!

As such I cannot include the additional thoughts of everyone, or even the full thoughts of most of the comments I will share. Comments from survey respondents are excerpts and have been edited for length only. I did not, and would not, change the content of any of them. And I do not know who they’re from, because the survey was intentionally anonymous.

Ready or not, here we go.

The first question, as our baseline for who’s responding, was “have you transitioned (for whatever transition means to you).” I cannot define someone else’s transition. Nobody can define someone else’s transition, because it means different things to all of us. You will find no TRANSMEDICALISM here.

There’s not a lot to discuss here, except to note that the vast, vast majority of respondents, 83.7%, consider themselves to have transitioned (or to presently be transitioning). 

What we see here, is that during “pre-transition” (which includes folks who don’t feel they have transitioned yet, or never will), the negative feelings around non-sexual touch are remarkably high. If you group “hated it” and “Avoided it at all costs”, they amount to 38%. That’s well over a third of respondents having a remarkably negative view of being touched.

Only 30.2%, just under a third, liked it (“enjoyed it” being you liked it when it happened, “sought it out” meaning it was something you actively tried to find).

Nearly 32% were indifferent to being touched, which isn’t necessarily a negative view of it, but certainly isn’t a positive one either. What’s interesting, though, is that if you define the results by those who liked touch (30.2%) and those who didn’t, you find sixty percent of pre-transition respondents didn’t like being touched. And that’s pretty huge.

Holy shit look at that shift! Seeking it out went from 11.6% to 37.4%! Enjoyed it went from 18.6% to 26.3%! And those who were indifferent dropped from 31.9% to 13.9%! This is huge. 

Before, those who didn’t like being touched were the largest group, at 60% of respondents. Now it’s only 23.4%!

All of these numbers are a little higher if you reduce the pool of respondents to only those who’ve transitioned, as 13% of those who answered this question hadn’t.

But what you see here is an overwhelming positive shift to people liking or wanting platonic, friendly touch during or after transition.

Here’s some respondent thoughts around platonic touch, and how it may have shifted with transition.

Let’s start with some about the general change in body and mind that came with transition.

• I enjoyed but was ashamed of, and uncomfortable with asking for, touch before HRT. I spent a very long time pre-HRT but out [as trans or nonbinary], and that persisted. Post-HRT I am still learning how to ask for touch, and there never feels like enough.

I had this too, where it felt like I didn’t “deserve” it. Because my body wasn’t mine, so anyone who wanted to touch it actually wanted to touch whoever it belonged to, and that wasn’t me.

• I never could enjoy being in my headspace when I was touched pre-transition. I wanted to enjoy, but it felt uncomfortable. And I really regret giving off those vibes to my partner.

• My feelings have changed in that I feel more protective and selective over my physical space. Idk if this comes from being less dissociated or what, but I’m much more aware of my body in a way that I like but that also has been a challenge to figure out.

• Just the emotional and mental acceptance of being trans seems to have completely opened up a whole new world of touch sensitivity with my partner!

• The thought of being touched sometimes makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s sorta like repulsion, but without thinking “gross.” I just don’t want it. I’m pretty sure my dysphoria is part of this. The body I see is not the one I want and isn’t really me, makes it hard to find it enjoyable.

I absolutely went through that, too.

• I didn’t realize how alone I felt, pre-transition. It was like existing in a void. Transitioning opened my eyes and revealed just how much I needed to touch, be touched, and be connected to the people around me.

Yes, yes, ten million thousand billion times yes.

• Touch was something I needed to be careful with pre-transition, because touch is a short-cut to emotions, and emotions were dangerous. Now that I’m not trying to keep feelings bottled up all the time, there’s less need to avoid touch.

I also dealt with that, where if you opened yourself up to the feelings in that dark, cobwebby corner of your psyche that you knew you weren’t supposed to look into… you might find something you couldn’t put back in there. And then you’d have to deal with it.

• Pre-transition I both enjoyed and avoided contact of all types, as in I craved physical contact but did not allow myself any.

Same. I was so alone, and scared, and all I wanted was that human connection. But I couldn’t get it, both because it might open up that dark, cobwebby corner, but also because my dysphoria made it impossible. See GENDER DYSPHORIA, where one example I give is like I was separated from everyone I cared about by a six foot thick invisible wall.

• I never so much as held hands with a person romantically until after I had begun transition, at which point the affirmative desire for touch became more important for me.

• After I got on [estrogen] and got more comfortable with my body, I started feeling like I needed [touch] more and feel increasingly frustrated by not getting it.

This absolutely happened for me too. Transition can help you realize all you’ve been missing, and then you want to fill that void as quickly as possible.

• Before, it was more “someone is interacting with the body I wear.” Now, touch is “I am allowing access to an aspect of my vulnerability.”

• Pre-transition, I *wanted* to have these forms of touch, but didn’t feel comfortable with actually accepting touch, and accepted that I probably just didn’t “deserve” it. Post-transition, I *still want* to have these forms of touch, but now I’m learning to be more comfortable with accepting touch, and how to communicate that with the people in my life.

• Not having every interaction clouded with dysphoria is likely responsible for most of this, I feel like i was probably as affectionate a person as I am today I just didn’t let myself express it or understand why it felt so wrong to express.

This is common for a lot of us, where we find that transition didn’t change us so much as let us be more of who we already were.

Here’s a couple comments from folks on how just their egg cracking opened up new avenues.

• I want casual touch with friends… I didn’t know this until half a year after cracking.

• After my egg cracked I find touch of all kinds more palatable, despite not getting to do any transitioning yet.

Here’s some on the difficulties of touch that are compounded based on the gender society perceives you as. 

• Before transition, I definitely felt less comfortable being touched, and felt weird about the concept of “being allowed” to enjoy touch, especially from women. Now that I’ve transitioned, I feel comfortable enough with myself and my body that I feel much freer to enjoy touch, and it turns out I really do want it after all.

• As a trans woman, pre-transition me longed for touch and physical contact, but asking for it or even accepting it when offered felt awful, like I was being predatory. That feeling has faded dramatically as my transition has gone on and casual contact with other women is just good and normal and comfortable now.

I found this too, but also in ways beyond physical touch. See COMPLIMENTS and how the act of transition finally made me feel like I could compliment another woman on something as mundane as her shoes, and not have it be creepy.

• I wonder how different the AMAB vs. AFAB experience is… as a trans guy, I personally feel very “starved” of physical contact. But back when I was still presenting as a cis female, it seemed like people wouldn’t keep their hands off of me. Do people avoid contact with me because I’m now trans? or because I’m now a man? It feels like a bit of both.

I feel like trans guys probably do get caught up in some folks’ aversion to being touched by cis men (for obvious and understandable reasons). Ask your trans guy friends if they want hugs!

And here’s a bunch on how feeling like we have BODILY AUTONOMY can drastically change things.

• Touch has gotten much more comfortable for me, both post transition and with a better understanding of my own experiences, needs and boundaries. I enjoy being in my own body in ways I couldn’t before, including experiencing all kinds of sensations I used to hate — like exertion and the awareness of my own body that’s forced when I exercise. There’s plenty I’m still very uncomfortable with, but things are shifting in a good way. I also get a lot of joy and comfort from my cat, who is the reason I’m never touch starved. cats are amazing. and great at boundaries. my cat enforcing his own boundaries taught me so much, actually.

Yes. Cats are excellent at teaching people boundaries and bodily autonomy. They will accept your affection when they want it, and they won’t accept it when they don’t. That’s how it should be. (Cats are the best.)

• Pre-transition, I sought touch as a kind of validation, despite the deep-seated internal sense that something was Wrong With Me. Post-transition, I’m much more able to enjoy touch for its own sake, as well as being an expression of love and affection. Simply put, my body feels like it’s *mine* now, so touch feels less like reassurance that I’m worthy of love, affection, and comfort, and more like an actual expression of those things.

• I’ve been with my partner for years, and the biggest impact for her has been that “you don’t flinch when I touch you anymore”.

This one broke my heart a little, if only because I feel so much like that was me with everyone but my wife and kid, for all of my life.

• Being touched in some ways felt like a violation of my body no matter what context pre-transition. Now that I understand my body there’s still plenty of dysmorphia/dysphoria, but it’s something I want to learn to navigate instead of just completely writing out of my life.

Just the desire to be open to touch changing is huge, truly. That’s where everything begins.

What you see here is over 50% of people pre-transition liking hugs, and much less on the negative side. Even when factoring in those who are indifferent, the majority still liked hugs.

I find this fascinating, because there seems to be a different view of hugs than of other non-sexual touch. I find hugs to be more intimate than holding hands, or a hand on the shoulder or arm, though maybe that’s just me.

Does this mean it’s more socially acceptable for people to hug, so we’re taught to do it more often and grow accustomed to it, even in spite of possible gender dysphoria? (not every trans person has dysphoria, of course, just to remind you)

I don’t know! But it’s incredibly interesting to me that there’s such a perception shift among these two kinds of platonic touch.

Look at that huge shift again! Almost half of all respondents who’d transitioned (or are transitioning) now seek out hugs, and when you factor in those who also enjoy hugs, that’s well over 75% of those who’ve transitioned liking hugs.

I expected there’d be a positive shift in these things with transition… not just because it mirrors my own experiences, but because of what I’ve seen in all the trans and nonbinary people I know.

And yeah, again, this is anecdotal, but it also seems really clear that in terms of platonic touch (holding hands, a hand on an arm, hugs), transitioning does so much to make us more comfortable with them, and to like them.

It’s wild what feeling like your true self can do for you.

Let’s check out some of your comments around hugging.

• Post-transition I feel like I have become a lot more sensitive to the social cues of others with respect to their intentions to make physical contact with me. I’m much less surprised now if someone hugs me, in part because I’m more comfortable, but also because I’m much better at noticing and understanding their intentions.

Yeah I relate to this a lot. It’s like you finally understand why someone would want a hug, to wrap someone in their arms and be wrapped up in return. It was legit hard to understand when everything about my body made me scream in horror.

• I wish more people could be non-sexually physically affectionate (more hugs, holding hands, just being in contact) without making it weird or assuming there’s something more going on. I think that would be so so nice.

I think so too! I mean, with consent, of course. Normalizing closeness would go a long way to alleviating a lot of the isolation and loneliness that so many people face.

• Pre-transition I feel like I was wanting more contact, but didn’t feel like I was allowed to, or I was worried that it might come off as creepy. Now, I’m more comfortable asking for hugs, but casual touch still seems kind of unfamiliar.

This one confirms what we saw in the survey responses above, in that hugs are easier (for some) than other forms of platonic or friendly touching. Fascinating.

• Post-transition, I’m also much better at REFUSING unwanted touch. I still don’t like hugging strangers; it’s far too intimate an act. And modern corporate culture is very huggy, so in the past I felt I just had to endure it. Today I’m much better at gently deflecting proffered hugs from casual workplace acquaintances, although the bar for being willing to embrace somebody is also much lower, and I enjoy it more when I do.

Yes! Bodily autonomy returns for the win. The right to refuse unwanted touch is just as important as the right to ask for or seek out the consensual touch you need.

• I still hate people that call themselves “huggers” and insist that means they should always be allowed to hug whoever they want, no matter whether that person is comfortable with it.

As a “hugger”… I completely agree with you. Again, this is why I ask people if they do hugs before I attempt to hug them. It’s not difficult to respect other people’s boundaries and needs! It’s no different than asking people their NAMES AND PRONOUNS… but then a whole lot of our society struggles with those, too.

I suspect they’re actually related, because a whole lot of people would just rather not have to think about how what they say or do affects others.

• Pre transition, I enjoyed touch, but I was not willing to ask for it or seek it out. I’d be the one hanging back when people were giving hugs because it felt like even being there would be equivalent to asking for a hug, which would be an imposition. Post transition (or mid transition?), it was much easier to ask for and accept touch.

• I’ve loved hugs ever since I was a kid, and while I don’t think I seek them out more now than I did before I got top surgery, I definitely enjoy them more now that I don’t have boobs.

Ooh that makes sense! I’m now always conscious of not smushing my boobs into people when I hug them, and that was something I had to adapt to after a lifetime of not having to worry about them. Happy it went the other way for you!

Come back next week as we wrap up with discussion of ess ee ex (gasp!), and just how touch-starved we might feel.

Let’s wrap up with one final survey comment, that felt like it was pulled directly from my own soul.

• Hugging now feels like I can pull the person even closer to my heart than before.

Yes yes yes forever yes.

When I hug people now, it is pulling their heart to mine, and letting them know that I love them.

Yes, even people I just met. Yes, even you.

If strangers I’ve never met can hate me for who I am without even knowing or meeting me, I can love you for who you are, without even knowing or meeting you.

I love you, and the world needs to know it.

And, if you want, I’d be thrilled to hug you and show it.

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com