Letters to Lou: Am I transf*g enough?
Our agony aunt channels the spirit of Lou Sullivan and responds to your most pressing transf*g dilemmas
Hi Lou,
Something I’m really struggling with at the moment is finding casual sex really difficult/impossible. While intellectually I know I don’t judge other people for having casual sex, I often worry that I’m being a prude or… a bad queer in some way for not being able to do it myself.
Sex is difficult for me as I had a number of experiences of sexual violence (most of them explicitly motivated by transphobia and/or transmasc chasing) from a pretty young age. I’m also a stone top as a result of these experiences, which (especially in cruising/queer men’s spaces) makes me extra anxious about sex with strangers, as I know that’s not really a ‘standard’ way to have sex (especially in what’s expected of gay/bi trans guys) and lots of cis queer people have not taken that boundary seriously before.
What’s especially annoying about this is I’m into BDSM/leather and intellectually so down with a bunch of the politics that come with that. I believe in kink at Pride and public sex and I’m against the sanitisation and desexualisation of queerness. I have a pile of hankies in my bedside table just waiting for the day when I feel confident to proudly flag left! And yet I can’t take the step and actually have casual sex myself (even vanilla sex, and I sometimes even panic just from being kissed by a stranger tbqh), and I feel like I’m letting the side down!
My feelings feel extra complicated by the fact I feel I have a very tenuous relationship to transfaggotry anyway. I feel more comfortable presenting/being read as masculine, really like that I’m always read as cis day-to-day and prefer it when I’m read as straight, am a bisexual with a preference for women, and am both not very interested in cis men (or cis people in general tbh) and repulsed by/disassociate through PiV (which seems to be du jour). All of that combined means it doesn’t really feel like a word I get to use? I’m sure all of that is its own mess of reasoning that can be unpacked for days, but the point is I feel distanced from the concept of what it means to be a transfag (or even a fag in general) anyway, let alone before the ‘I’m not sure if I can ever have casual sex like queer men are supposed to’ aspect comes in.
To be clear, I don’t mean this ‘I’m not like The Other Tboys’ thing in a way that’s meant to be shaming! The Other Tboys seem to be having a really great, fun, flirty, sexy, filthy, dirty time! I wish I was like The Other Tboys, and I feel like I’m being a little frigid weirdo for not being like The Other Tboys!
Not really sure what kind of advice I’m looking for, but would appreciate whatever you have for me. Whether it’s telling me to be nicer to myself, or get over myself, or anything else or in between.
Thanks!
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Girl, I honestly loved getting this letter! I do adore that people are writing to my little pastiche of an imagined Lou, because I feel like much of your question boils down to a uniquely transfag-of-our-times anxiety I’ve gotten many variations of in the inbox: why am I not fulfilling my ancestors’ wildest sucking and fucking dreams? Why am I not Lou Sullivan already? To borrow the scathing tone and brilliant phrase of one of my favourite Elder Fag Mentors (a distinguished Shakespearean director) whenever he was asked what he thought about this or that Critically Acclaimed Actor: Well honey, I’m not Lou Sullivan, but neither was he!
What I mean by this is that – understandably – many transfags navigate by other people’s stars on our journey into our own sexualities. The longer we sail intellectually towards an abstract Great Cruising Ground in the Sky – what George Dust calls the ‘mythic pre-AIDS free-for-all past’ that I think captures many aspiring faggot imaginations, especially us We Both Laughed in Pleasure aficionados – the more credence we give to the notion that there’s a secret right way to have queer sex. You sound deeply anxious about what other people think, and right now that’s eclipsing your ability to name and navigate your own desires. (I don’t think you do want to have casual sex at all – we’ll come back to that!)
Many transf*gs navigate by other people’s stars on our journey into our own sexualities.
Let us remember that Auntie Lou was in just such a boat – writing earnest John Rechy fanfic, obsessively arranging his hankies, and imagining his way into gay sexual cultures while clashing a lot with his own insecurities and material reality. Don’t get me wrong, he also had a lot of hot sex of the ‘casual’ variety you’re describing! But even though that was something he explicitly wanted, Lou, too, obsessed about his place in the community, whether the language used and sex he had were appropriate to claim, what was ‘normal’ for trans guys, and the struggle to find partners and scenes that matched his desires.
A little perspective and reassurance for you there. I have enormous compassion for where you’re at, and want to remind you that you deserve – and will get – hot, safe, trauma-informed, deeply affirming sex. That said: I will also play Bad Dad and tell you to get over yourself, too. I think you’re just too savvy about your own desires, comfort, and needs not to be getting your life exactly when and how you want it!
So, what do you want? What I hear in your letter is, emphatically, not casual sex with strangers. That’s just hunky dory. Grindr isn’t going anywhere, and plenty of cis and trans queer men cum and go happily without her. What I also hear in your struggles with claiming Transfaggotry TM is a quiet plea for permission not to have sex with cis men – but that that feels challenging because it seems to grate with how you’ve oriented yourself in community and sexual politics. While I’ll suggest that your idea about having casual sex like queer men are supposed to is definitely limiting your faggot intimacy horizons, taking cis men – or men in general – off the table is also absolutely fine. That is a legitimate, real self-safety measure and also true to what turns you on right now. I promise The Other Tboys will not emerge swarm-like from the nearest glory hole to take away your queer card.
Allow yourself to be deliciously selfish.
I’m doing this by process of elimination, but please do flip the script: think about what gives you pleasure as well as what turns you off. What you do seem into right now is BDSM, a preference for women, a healthy dose of straight-to-trade-passing masculinity, stone-topping, and trusting the people you fuck well enough to feel comfortable bringing clear boundaries and trauma histories into the space. The good news is that many, many people go wild for this! And, if we remove the expectation that vanilla sex or casual hookups are necessary rites of passage, you can absolutely pass GO, collect $200, and get filthy with those desires flagged loud and clear.
I’d invite you, if you haven’t already, to start making community out of those sexual politics you’ve carefully curated. Put the BDSM test down (you can keep her on hand for reference) and start talking to people into the same shit. If you don’t have a local munch or kinky friends, you could check out FetLife, an online kink workshop like those run by Chicago’s Leather Archives & Museum, or a social group like legendary trans leatherman Spencer Bergstedt’s bi-monthly Zoom social for transmascs into leather. Stepping into these spaces does not commit you to anything other than learning, listening, and maybe making a friend or two – but they’re also doorways to pleasure at your pace.
Speaking of pace, I’ve given you this advice because I think you’re frustrated and want to move towards something: take this as slow as you need. There are other tools available – from trauma therapy to queer survivors’ support groups – to help you navigate finding your way into your sexuality. You don’t need to put your trauma behind you to have sex; neither do you have to put your own body on the discourse gears to have sexual community. This isn’t about Lou – this is about you. Allow yourself to be deliciously selfish.
With love, from ‘Lou’ xxx
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Do you have a transfag dilemma? Talk to Lou anonymously about your troubles by sending an email to LettersToLou@idamagezine.com and he’ll do his best to offer sage words of wisdom in his monthly column. Feel free to message from a throwaway email address if you need – but don’t suffer in silence! Aunty is here to help.