Trans visibility is better than it ever has been but trans women in happy, loving relationships with men are almost completely absent from mainstream media. With perhaps the exception of Janet Mock, whose New York Times bestseller Redefining Realness documents her relationship and marriage, it is rare to see trans women publicly loved and desired.

This lack of visibility makes it easy to draw the conclusion that trans women aren’t lovable, which has an understandable effect on their self-esteem (especially early in their transition). It also helps stigmatise the cis men who desire trans women. What little research there is on this subject appears to corroborate that myth; according to this study, only 12% of people, irrespective of sexual orientation, said they would date a trans person. The implication is that these relationships rarely happen but of course that couldn’t be further from the truth. The fact of the matter is they do but are often kept quiet on the part of the cis men who fear the taboos that still surround this expression of love.

This stigma has real, violent consequences. Trans women are desired and, like cis women, subject to misogyny and harassment. But that same misogyny is exacerbated for trans women, and is laced with transphobia.

As Charlie Craggs told us: “There’s a correlation between guys who like us and the guys who are killing us.” In other words, the internalised shame cis men can feel about their desire for trans women can result in them lashing out. According to the latest Home Office findings for 2018 to 2019, transgender hate crimes have increased by 37%. That number could be much higher though, as Stonewall reports that four in five hate crimes against trans people go unreported. And this violence doesn’t just happen on the streets – while there is limited research into this area, Stonewall found in 2018 that 16% of trans women had experienced domestic abuse from a partner, compared to 7.5% of the women surveyed by the Office for National Statistics over the same period.

Straight trans women, like everyone, deserve love stories and safety, neither of which they are currently getting or are told by society that they can have. To try and change that narrative, we spoke to three trans straight women about their experiences with dating, how to navigate dating apps and never accepting less than you deserve.

Billie Simmons, 26, is the founder of affirm.space and a musician in the NYC band BHuman who works between New York and London.

I’m not sure if I’d say dating has been an overwhelmingly positive or negative experience for me. Dating sucks for most people, especially in our generation, and there’s this extra level of suckiness that comes with being a trans woman that dates primarily straight men. Straight men of all people probably have the least experience with not appearing heteronormative or normative in general, so you’re asking these men to give up that privilege in order to date you. It’s a really tricky thing to do, and it’s a scary thing for anyone to do, but it’s something that most LGBTQ+ people already have experienced doing, so it’s not really the same. We’ve been through that mill and we’ve done that. But I’ve had some very meaningful, wonderful long-term relationships. And not every relationship of mine has ended because I’m trans.

I’ve often been with men who’ve never dated a trans woman and are just attracted to me as a woman, but when it comes to taking that relationship to more of a serious level and integrating each other into our actual lives, like meeting their friends and family, that’s the hurdle that is much harder to get over. You can filter for everything else, from problematic opinions or weird approaches to transness to fetishising you or even violence. What’s a lot harder to filter for, especially in an early stage relationship, is whether or not they’re going to be willing to take that leap. Sometimes they don’t know or they haven’t really thought about it, until there’s this point after about four or five months where you have to take that leap. Unfortunately, most guys don’t seem to be able to.

I think it goes back to the loss of privilege. It’s a really scary thing for a lot of men to think about and there’s a lot of misinformation, even when you’re in fairly liberal circles. I remember when I first came out, I was working at a venture capital firm and had started seeing someone and one of my colleagues said, “Oh, well, doesn’t that mean he’s gay? Because…don’t you have a penis?” It’s very genital-centric. Even if the person I’m dating knows that isn’t the case, they’re aware that people might see them that way, and that’s a really scary prospect. In some ways, I have some sympathy for them. And in other ways I’m like, “You need to get the fuck over it” because it’s not that big a deal. If you treat it like a big deal, then it becomes a much bigger deal than it is.

I’ve definitely encountered ‘trans amorous’ people on the dating scene, for whom being trans amorous is a badge of pride. It’s almost like they’re so aware of their lack of stigmatisation as usually a straight white man, that they want a little bit of something edgy to attach to that identity. That’s incredibly fucked up – I’m not a badge of your liberalism, I’m not your token. I don’t want someone to want to be with me because I’m trans. I want people to interact with me like I’m a human being that is attractive to date rather than a trans woman. It feels like they’re not really engaging with you as a real person.
 
Probably the biggest warning sign of fetishisation is no attempt to interact with you as a well-rounded human being, just [as] a sex object, or a bit of a shiftiness with being public with you, or telling you things about his life. I often get the excuse from guys (and I have other trans friends who can corroborate this experience) when I ask for their social media that they deleted it all because “I had a really psycho stalker ex girlfriend”. It’s always that excuse. Never trust anyone who talks about a crazy ex, ever – that’s just a general rule.

I always say I’m trans upfront because I’m all about efficiency. I’ve had Tinder and Bumble and in both of my bios I say that I’m trans, because it does the work for you of filtering out people that are going to be weird or turned off. I’ve never dated anyone or even interacted in a dating situation with people that don’t already know. I know people that have done that and to me, it just seems like setting yourself up for disappointment – it never seems to go well. They have legitimate interactions with these people and start to get their hopes up and inevitably when they eventually disclose, the guy is no longer interested.

I had a very big argument with someone that I was talking to for a while because he said if I was cis I would be married by now. Sometimes I wonder if he is right but ultimately, there’s no real way to know. I don’t think there’s any point dwelling on it either, because that’s a really depressing road to go down.

I think it’s so important to know that you deserve more than you’re probably getting, and don’t settle just because you’re afraid of being alone. I think that’s a fairly recent lesson that I’ve learned personally. But equally, with the way that relationships are prioritised in media, it’s really hard to feel okay with being single. As women we’re taught that a lot of our value is intrinsic in our ability to be in relationships. So one of my goals for 2020 is to learn to be okay with being alone. That it’s not a blight on you as a person or your value as a woman. And don’t be afraid to have standards!

KUCHENGA (“in all caps because I deserve to take up space”), 34, is a writer and journalist who works between Brighton and London.

If I’m being honest, I think I have to park the issues of transmisogyny and misogynoir in the recesses of my mind in order to engage in dating. My early relationships were hindered by my hyperawareness of how much they affected my life. As a result there was a lot of fear – it impacted my self-esteem to such a degree that it stopped me from connecting. In general, there’s repeated messaging that you are not valued, and you’re not seen as anyone’s main prize. And it’s just an awareness of a hierarchy where you’re not at the top of the pyramid.

We all grow up with imagery and messaging of what is beautiful, and that doesn’t include blackness. Whether that’s in regards to racism or colourism, the message we’re receiving is that the more African your features are, the less attractive you are; the darker your skin is, the curlier your hair, the less attractive you are. That’s evidenced the most in who gets opportunities, who’s centred, who’s platformed, but also, quite problematically, it’s evidenced in ballroom culture. In Paris Is Burning, Dorian Corey spoke about how, among black trans girls on the ball scene, no one really wanted to be the black Hollywood stars (whether it was Lena Horne or Dorothy Dandridge but of course not Hattie McDaniel). Instead the ideals of beauty that were being emulated were the Liz Taylors and the Marilyn Monroes. The spectrum of white womanhood has proven itself to be quite pernicious on the collective psyche of black girlhood. 

Language like ‘trans amorous’ and ‘trans attracted’ is more about how those outside of our communities struggle to define our relationships. It’s unfortunate that we have to keep parroting the same phrases; that trans women are women and liking trans women doesn’t mean you’re gay. But unfortunately the reason that we have to is because we are still nowhere near everyone accepting that we are just women. Men like us, and they like us because we’re women. Of course gender is fluid and sexuality is fluid but in the main, the men that I am in relationships with are attracted to all women. Both cisgender and transgender girls. That’s just the tea. There are bisexual and pansexual men that are attracted to me but in the main, most of them identify as heterosexual. I don’t think that the term trans amorous is useful for us in talking about ourselves. I think from a political perspective and from a media perspective, there’s a need to differentiate and define, to separate their attraction, but unless you’re going to cheapen things by talking about chicks with dicks etc… Outside of genitalia, I don’t see how it’s important to be honest.

It’s the same with trans exclusive dating apps. I think if we can learn anything from the civil rights struggles over segregation in the 20th century, it’s that the concept of ‘separate but equal’ proved itself to not be fit for purpose. I think that there is a need for a separate space for certain things, it might prove useful, but at the end of the day we should think of the way men treat trans women on any dating apps. I’m not sure if this is from a Reddit forum or on 4chan or something but what they do is that once they discover that the girl they really liked the picture of is trans, they will report her account until it’s blocked. It was mirrored in the recent treatment of Kelechi Okafor, for example – even though she’s cisgender, she’s a black woman and with the furore that happened with Clemmie Hooper, her followers used the very same tactics to get Kelechi kicked off Instagram. It concerns anyone who’s marginalised or disenfranchised in a particular way: in the digital space, those who are dominant and have power want to make you suffer for either speaking up or, in the case of men on these dating apps, making them feel deceived because they saw a picture, were very attracted and then upon discovery decided to make the openly transgender woman suffer for being open. This is something that should concern us all. 

I think the main issue is that people are attracted to us but stigma keeps that silent. In the words of Octavia St. Laurent, “They don’t want you to know about me because…I get too many dicks hard.” The stigmatisation of us in society means you’d assume that no one wants to date us, and as soon as someone finds out you’re trans the reaction is “Oh disgusting! No, I couldn’t possibly.” This is what happens in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective and The Crying Game. They discover someone’s a trans woman and there is immediate vomiting and disgust. And it’s very much the opposite of what happens! We are wanted, we are desired, we are out here and we’re suffering from the same street harassment. We’re suffering from the same assault and manipulation and exploitation that all women face in society. But when we talk about it, it’s seen as an inconvenient truth.

What I would say to my fellow trans girls is we need to have stronger boundaries because of the messaging we get that we should be grateful for any attention. I think that the quality of the relationship and what we let men get away with deserves a lot more therapeutic attention. We need to align ourselves with trans inclusive initiatives who offer support and are making all women, cis and trans, safe in public spaces. We don’t have fewer stories, less pain, less trauma, than cis women. 

We also deserve love stories. Unfortunately it’s only through Janet Mock’s writing that I’ve really seen any rich portrayal of a trans girl falling in love, getting married, having a happy ending. We need way more happy endings both in life and in art so I would encourage anyone who’s currently too nervous to pick up a pen and try to imagine happiness and pleasure and sexual liberation beyond what we can currently see.

Charlie Craggs, 25, a trans activist and author from London.

I realised recently how much my perception around dating has changed in the past five or six years in direct correlation with my transition. When I first transitioned, I was an insecure, unconfident mess and would accept the absolute worst treatment, because that’s what I felt I deserved – partially because of how I felt but it was also how I was taught to feel. This was before the trans tipping point in the media when there wasn’t any representation, let alone positive representation of trans women. It was drummed into me that I was a freak show and I should be lucky if any straight guy was interested in me. So the first straight guy that would come along I would give my attention, my time and my body to, when he absolutely didn’t deserve it. Now I’m the complete opposite – I’m not perfectly happy with my body or how I look, but I have a much better grasp on my self-esteem. I’ve come to understand that I am worth so much more than what I was being given in the early stages of my transition.

If I find out a guy likes trans girls or has only been with trans girls I’m immediately turned off. There are trans amorous guys and there are tranny chasers (though only trans people should really use that word), and if someone says they’re only trans attracted, it makes we wonder what they think the difference is between me and a cis girl. I have boobs, I have hips, I have long hair, I have a fucking female passport, the only difference is that I have a dick. So if you are only dating trans girls, it means you really like dick. That’s obviously fine, like what you like, but I don’t want to be with a guy who’s obsessed about dick and to be honest, that’s what most trans attracted guys are like.

A lot of trans girls also have dysphoria around that part of their body and if a guy only wants to date you because you have a dick it conflicts with that dysphoria. It makes me feel more masculine and I prefer dating guys who aren’t on the scene and haven’t dated all my trans girlfriends. It’s one thing to be attracted to someone and that happens to be how they are, but it’s another thing to only seek that type of person out – it gets a bit murky and seedy, even porny.

Then there are people who are openly fetishising you where it’s just about sex. The trans attracted guys and the trans amorous guys will at least be nice and want to be in a relationship with you, but I feel like they’re just a tranny chaser with manners. Obviously there are people who prefer certain body parts and I think that’s slightly different. There are some people who prefer to have sex with a vagina or some prefer a penis and I totally get that, but when your focus is solely on what I have in my pants it moves from preference to fetishising, which I have no time for.

So many more people are into trans girls than you think, but it’s such a taboo. I’m on Raya now, talking to all these famous people, including top footballers, so I know that there are straight male public figures who are attracted to trans girls, just like there are regular guys who are attracted to trans girls. I would say most guys want to sleep with trans girls but they wouldn’t go beyond that to properly date you. Trans porn is the fastest growing category of porn, especially in places like Brazil. Where they also have the highest murder rate of trans girls in the world! There’s a correlation between guys who like us and the guys who are killing us. And it’s this stigma that results in so much internalised transphobia and self-hatred, which becomes violence against trans women. 

For example, I had this bunch of guys move in next door. One day I saw them checking me out as I was coming down the path, so I decided to say hi (as they’re my new neighbours). From my voice they clocked I’m trans and they all started laughing and insulting me, led by one guy who was the loudest. I ignore it, carry on with my day and go to bed. And at three o’clock in the morning I get a knock on my door. No one knocks on my door except the postman, so it terrified me: Why the fuck is someone knocking on my door at three in the morning? So I ignored it. Then about 15 minutes later I got another knock, so I look out my window to peek at who it is and it was the ringleader from earlier, which scared me again. Obviously I’m not going to open the door at 3am to someone who was shouting abuse at me, so I tried to go back to sleep. Then another half an hour later he knocked on my door again, so I thought, I’m just going to tell him to go away or ask him what’s going on, in case it’s important. So I opened the door slightly with the latch on, and after all that he was just trying to suck my dick at four in the morning! This is the tea – there’s so much internalised shame around liking trans girls that they take out on trans girls and they take it out on other guys who like trans girls publicly.

I just did a GoFundMe for my surgery and recently hit my target and something I’ve realised is if you are going to entertain guys who just want to use you for your trans body, then they need to be putting something into that body (other than the obvious). They should donate to our GoFundMes because these bodies take tens of thousands of pounds to make. I’m different with nice guys who want me for more than just sex, but with these guys who are fetishising us, treating us like experiments and sex toys on apps like Grindr, I wouldn’t even acknowledge their existence ’til they’ve dropped something towards my surgeries. I’ve been telling all my trans girlfriends to do this, too. Most of us have GoFundMes – like I said, the average transition costs tens of thousands, plus on top of this there are social barriers that often make it a lot harder for trans girls to find work. So yes, I absolutely believe that if guys want to use us for our trans bodies, they should put something more than their dusty, crusty dicks into them.

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