Welcome to Trans Tuesday! Let’s wrap up our discussion on trans folks and physical contact (which means yeah, we’re gonna talk about sex some) in: TRANS TOUCH 3: SEX AND BEING TOUCH-STARVED.
Of course, you’ll want to know my own personal experiences with physical contact in TRANS TOUCH 1, and the first half of our survey results about platonic touch and hugging, in TRANS TOUCH 2.
Onward!
Almost half of all respondents, pre- (or no) transition, liked sex and sexual touch. But that also means more than half did not like it. This doesn’t mean those people didn’t have sexual desires (though some ace folks certainly fall into that category), but that even if they desired sex or sexual intimacy, they didn’t like actually participating in it.
This gets really interesting when you look at the during/post transition responses.
Some of those in the indifferent/hated it/avoided it at all costs categories are ace folks from the pre-transition question, and some are people who newly discovered they were ace with transition… but even still, the numbers dropped drastically.
Because when you look at those who now like it, it went from a little under half to 63.2%! And that number is higher if you factor in only folks who’ve transitioned, because nearly 14% who responded to this had not transitioned.
As with platonic/friendly touch, we see the same huge shift that transition brings to our desire to be touched.
Let’s dive into some of your complex and difficult thoughts around sex.
- I sought out sexual touch pre-transition because it contained a tiny drop of gender-feelings.
I think, pre-transition, I never realized any gender feelings during sex because I dissociated through so much of it. But if I had any, I suppose it would’ve made me feel like I was being seen, perceived, and appreciated for being a man, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted. Hence the dissociation.
- One of my reasons for not transitioning has been a fear of losing desire for touch and sex.
That can definitely happen when you change the hormones in your body (if you medically transition, and utilize HRT (link) as part of it), but it can also go in the other direction! A good doc (easier said than found) can help you navigate that and hopefully help you find what’s right for you.
- Pre transition, my body disgusted me to such an extent that I couldn’t bear any physical contact. The idea of someone having sex with me would have meant that they were attracted to me physically, which would have been misgendering and felt wrong.
That’s where I was, except my sex drive was so strong I couldn’t really ignore it. So again… just dissociated through all of it.
- It wasn’t until *well* after HRT brought my body and cognitive patterns into alignment, and some pretty hefty therapy work, that a lot of the shame and stigma around seeking consensual sexual pleasure went away … That’s not to say everything is perfect, because it’s not, but the quantity and quality have increased greatly. It’s wild to think about how much societal norms encourage us to effectively cut off and hide a major facet of identity, and incredibly empowering to finally be in touch with that part, and be accepted not just “despite it”, but also because of it.
- Pre-transition ALL touch made me confused. At the time I would have said that I liked sex, but learning about what sex is for other people, that pleasure and desire aren’t just words… about how forced I felt to engage in hetero style sex. I had to sexualize all touch to get past my discomfort, which meant I couldn’t touch men at all. It also made me not touch my own children. I felt confused and uncomfortable pre-transition. Now I don’t. Now I desire social and affectionate touch. I do not know what I think about sexual touch, since everything I thought about sex was wrong. Since trying to understand sex in a male body, in a male role, resulted in intense dissociation. I think that there is the possibility that I could learn to experience sex once I can accept myself and my body as feminine, but it’s so fucking scary.
Heartbreaking.
- Sex in particular changed the most for me. I never hated it or anything but I just never liked it. I’d perform because my partner enjoyed it but it always felt like a service to them and never really something I got much out of other than enjoying their enjoyment. Now, it is pure fireworks with the same partner and solo.
- I have…actually worse experiences with sex post-transition, which seems to be a rarity from what I’ve seen other trans women talk about. My problem is that the hormones pretty much completely disabled my penis, and I actually *liked* that part of me. I have no desire to have bottom surgery, but the same hormones that help me deal with the secondary sexual characteristics that cause me such gender dysphoria *also* suppress the primary sexual characteristic which I wanted to continue functioning, and that is just…a particular kind of frustration that I haven’t really seen anyone else struggling with.
Let me just say that I know a whole lot of trans people, and while it may not be super common, you’re also not alone in liking that part of your body and wanting it to remain functional. TRANSMEDICALISM and gender essentialism will tell you that’s wrong, but those things are full of shit. You can be however you want to be, however feels right for you.
A good doc (so much easier said than found) might be able to help you get to where you want to be. Don’t be afraid to look for as long as it’ll take to find one who will listen to you.
- I’m transmasc and although I’ve always enjoyed sexual touch, I’ve been telling partners that my chest is off-limits for years (even since before I began thinking of myself as trans or even nonbinary). I did not have conscious thoughts about why I didn’t want that, just a frequent physical sensation like nausea when I was touched.
- I haven’t had any kind of romantic or sexual anything with anybody, it feels wrong doing it before transitioning, like cheating on everybody involved.
Important to note the wording here, ”everybody” involved, including the person who wrote that comment. It was actually partly the same for me, because I wasn’t really who the world or my sexual partners thought I was, and I wasn’t even me… to myself.
And here’s a couple folks who had the opposite reaction to sex than the majority!
- Sex was the only time I *didn’t* hate my body. Taking care of my spouse during sex was the only time I felt my body was doing something right. It didn’t matter that I hated the shell I was in, …During sex… that was when I could banish the gender dysphoria away from my head. I didn’t realize it was gender dysphoria for a long time, but sex was when I was able to quiet the trouble in my head.
- Before transition…I enjoyed sex when it was with someone I had an emotional connection to. There were some times where I engaged in sex activities with people I didn’t have that connection with, and often times was very difficult for me in ways I couldn’t explain. I think the emotional connection could bypass dysphoria, but when it wasn’t there, dysphoria was all I had.
Oh! These sound almost similar to dissociating, only rather than disconnecting from everything entirely you were simply disconnecting from physical parts of it to hone in on the emotional, or your partner, and that was enough to keep the bad stuff at bay.
This one is pretty straightforward, with more than half of trans and nonbinary folks who took the survey saying they weren’t getting as much touch as they wanted.
These numbers look somewhat similar to the pre-transition numbers, but when you pull out those who haven’t transitioned, or will not be transitioning, you see a much bigger shift.
194 respondents said yes they were touch starved, to 117 who said no. That’s 311 respondents, which means 62% said yes they were touch starved, and 38% who said no.
The numbers are still similar, though we see a perhaps surprising upswing in trans and nonbinary folks saying they feel touch starved during/after transition.
My feeling on this is that it’s due to being so much more aware of ourselves now, and our needs, and all we’ve been missing, that more of us have realized all the touch we’ve wanted but haven’t gotten.
Let’s see what people had to say about being touch-starved.
- I was extremely touch hungry pre-transition, but felt so uncomfortable in my skin that I projected that feeling onto others and assumed that they also were uncomfortable with me touching them, and so my exact feelings are hard to place on a loved it/hated it scale because frequently it would be both at the same time for different reasons.
- When I started having sexual relationships with women (still pre-transition) it was… Always touch starved but sought out a lot of physical touching. Always wanting to cuddle and hold hands. Sometimes downplayed these feelings slightly, asked for less than I wanted so as to not seem weird. After transitioning, I still craved touch the same amount, but I was now less ashamed of seeking it out, cause it’s considered more socially appropriate to be a cuddly huggy girl than it is to be a cuddly huggy boy. I’m only slightly less touch starved now because I have a similarly touchy and cuddly girlfriend, who can’t get enough of me either, but every time she’s not around, most of all I miss her touch.
- A few months before HRT, around the time I finally accepted myself as trans, I also got into a relationship. This basically solved the “touch starved” part. I don’t think it’s a coincidence the acceptance and the relationship happened around the same time (as in, acceptance allowed me to open up).
Here’s a couple on the pressing need to fill the void we lived with for so long:
- Would still consider myself feeling touch starved, but only because, in transition, I want more — as if making up for lost opportunities?
- Before, I could enjoy physical contact (mostly sex, less so non-sexual touch) but there was rarely any feeling of emotion behind it. I was too alienated from my own body to even FEEL touch starved. Having transitioned, I can feel so much more deeply, both physically and emotionally… I often feel extremely touch starved, like I’m trying in vain to make up for all the years of physical/emotional affection I missed out on before I came out. Like there’s an invisible barrier between me and the people I’m around.
Yeah, right on the money for me. I’m so much more aware now of all I missed out on, and I need to fill that well. But there might not be enough hugs in all the world.
So, there’s the data I collected and the fascinating and thought-provoking responses you all shared.
Thank you to everyone who took the survey, and was so open, honest, and vulnerable about a difficult topic to discuss.
Nothing will ever change for us, for any of us, if we don’t talk about these things. Over time I noticed a definite pattern in all the trans people I know, both online and in meatspace, and knew it was something I needed to discuss. So that maybe things will change for us, for the better.
I want to close with two more comments folks left me. Here’s the first:
- I never imagined that being in touch with my body (rather than ignoring it and disassociating from it) could feel so good. It does. This questionnaire actually quite helped me process, solidify, and crystallize these thoughts. Thank you.
Well that’s just the greatest thing! It always moves me when people reach out to let me know these essays have helped you, whether personally in figuring things out, in explaining how you feel or what you’re dealing with to people in your life, or in any of a hundred different ways.
That the survey itself could do that never even crossed my mind. That alone makes running the survey and compiling and sifting through the replies worth it. And here’s the last one:
- Thank you for the work that you do.
No stop you’re gonna make me cry (too late). All I ever wanted was to use what I have to do what I can to help, and if I’m doing that, then it’s a job well done.
I couldn’t have done it without all of your help, so truly, I thank you all again.
Because what we’ve discovered is not only that trans folks are as widely varied as cis folks (like I’ve said a million times before), but that when you look at the macro level…
a whole lot of trans people need a whole lot more of people touching us, holding us, seeing us, and letting us know we’re loved for who we are.
Hug a trans person every chance you get (if they consent!).
We need them now more than ever.
Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com