Trans joy and the incredible beauty of life

Despite the insane mess of my life right now, I have never been happier.  Okay, I face daily bigotry—and yes, I do.  It is written in people’s faces.  It is new to me to see perfect strangers, mostly men, look at me with disgust.  I know that their disgust speaks more to their own desire than it says anything about me, but I can’t help call it for what it is.

What am I thinking about these days?  Despite the word “trans” in the title, I am a woman.  The expression “trans women are women” is a political guidepost, but more importantly, now, the trans part is becoming meaningless.  I don’t mean this in an ungrateful way, only that I am increasingly feeling like a woman.  That it is who I am.  Being a woman.

A big part of this, nay, all, has to do with my own mindset.  My refusal to accept a narrative that says I am anything else.  Misgendering is a frequent occurrence, and something I have little to no patience with—particularly as my presentation is all woman.  But I am finding instead that my processing of this information is that someone is telling me I am ugly to them.  Or that they are bigots.  Whether they like it or not.  And who has time for such people?

All I am saying is that to smell the flowers, we have to find ways to park the manure…and that it has to be an unconscious process.  I am also saying that this is happening.

If anyone, let alone me, could have told me what I would be doing with my life right now, even just a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed it.  And really, what I am referring to is the transformation of my relationships with women.  There is no greater prize to me than the difference in intimacy between my life as a man who loved women and as a woman who loves women.

One of my best friendships with a girlfriend has developed after I leaned in for a kiss with her and was comprehensively but firmly rebuffed.  Ditto for another woman friend who pointedly crossed her legs.  They both know I have the hots for them, but we hang out all the time, and they have no problem flirting with me, and I with them.  Their faith and trust in the guard rails that I will respect makes it possible.

And these women all know that I’m a dyke.  

It’s the same thing with kink.  I just figured the only people who would want to session or play with me would be men.  But I am finding it is not at all like that.  My guess is that a quarter of the people I am playing with are women…if I include those I tie up, it is more than half.  I don’t tie men.  Not saying I won’t ever, but the intimacy of rope the way I am learning and wanting to practice it, has been with woman almost exclusively, one trans man and a bunch of non-binary AFAB people.

What is it about me now that I am a woman that makes this kind of intimacy not just possible, but desirable for them?

When I was in the body of a man, it would never have been okay.  And I know this from so much lived experience.  When there is sexual tension between straight men and women and it is one-sided, there is never a joyful ending.  This is so different.

First, there is so much more space for feeling now.  What do I mean?  The level of intimacy is so much deeper.  It’s a bit like the difference between how short a runway is for little light aircraft versus a runway for a super-jumbo: wider, and oh, so much longer.

Second, it must be that I feel safe.  And while I don’t like to allow for male energy, and may not feel it, it is unavoidable that a woman looking at me sees there is man in me, even if I don’t have a you-know-what.  In a way, it’s the absence of the you-know-what which makes it possible.

And this is very true.  It may be the whole truth.  The dick in a sexual relationship becomes the point.  It sucks the air out of the room.  When even the word is “climax”, there is an implication of a progression, of going from somewhere to somewhere else.  A goal.  That is a very male thing.  And it also suits the male character, to be goal-oriented, singular.

The female mind is more about the experience, the process.  At least that is how I feel it to be from my partners and from how I feel myself.  We love being in it.  A friend used to say to me that a woman makes love with her mind.  But the mind we are talking about is in the moment, the here-and-now, being present.

In a totally unrelated way, one of the things I set out to learn from BDSM was this idea of being present.  It was something that was always difficult for me.  Becoming a woman has taken me there on its own.  What a gift.

It is such a relief to not want tomorrow.  To not what something different than what I’ve got.  The beauty and mystery that so many women give to me, is mostly beautiful because it is now.

I saw a companion recently and she related to me that in her considerable experience, trans women have been the softest, gentlest, kindest of her clients.  I can’t imagine that there are all that many of us, but its nice to know that my trans sisters share this gentle energy with me.  I don’t know where they toxic political narrative comes from.  Fear, I guess.

My social life has been quite exciting of late.  I went to a lesbian drinks party.  Actually, it was a “pub” night for dykes.  I expected the worst, thinking I would just go there for a bit and see what it was like.  I kind of expected a dilapidated and dimly lit pub with a maybe 10 women or so hanging out around a dirty oak table, all knowing each other already, all sort of grudgingly letting me sit and join in the conversation.  I imagined them with hairy feet and open-toed sandals.

Isn’t that awful?  I went right at the start, and the venue was an enormous place, quite slick and modern.  And I met the two women who were hosting, and they were each more gorgeous than the other.  And super friendly, super dynamic, super cool.  And I started talking to some really gorgeous and interesting women and they were friendly and welcoming.  And about an hour later, there were 300 of us.  So many beautiful faces.  Gorgeous, actually.

It was intimidating.  I got scared.  Scared because I was in the same space as 300 hot dykes, and we all knew each other wanted the same thing.  It was so out in the open, so hot and sexy, I was overwhelmed.  I got into a conversation which turned into a very flirty one while queuing to use the loo.  That in itself was a revelation.  

I left.  Maybe I was so afraid of rejection in that blissful place, from these glorious women.  It’s okay to be turned down once, privately, but to “fail” with your tribe, that scared me.  My kids were very disappointed that I ran away.  But secretly I just hoped some of the women there noticed me and will come and find me at the next one, as I will surely go back.

My most cherished part of the evening?  Having lesbian women decode lesbian fashion and give me advice on clothing signifiers.  How they can spot each other.  The secret styles.  Or not so secret.  I shall be making some tweaks to my wardrobe and dress sense.

But I loved it.  Really loved it.

I also found myself at a social event recently, not expecting to see anyone in particular other than the hostess, and not even knowing who might be there, and within seconds of walking in I bumped into women I knew.  And within an hour I had found a posse of mostly dominatrix women who I have had fun with before, and in different circumstances, and it was beyond a treat to be so well received.  It was profoundly affirming.

At one point, a very well-established dominatrix, one who has never been submissive in any way and to any person, was asking me to give her a good, hard spanking.  She was quite dominant even though she was strapped down to a spanking bench, and gave me lot’s of “good girls”, but still…life as a woman is so much less complicated.  At least the part concerning my relationships with other women.

But that is the meaning of my life.  To be in sisterhood.  Nothing matters more.  Followed closely by dismantling the patriarchy.  The first is a state of being.  The second is a goal; my life purpose.

Doesn’t it sound juicy?

Becoming a dominatrix is gathering steam and importance.  I think of many vanilla things I can do, would enjoy doing, and be able to make a living doing…but when I compare them to the fun I have as a domme, I can’t help but be drawn to the art of Femdom.

And it is my sisters who are sustaining me, creating both the motive and the joy.  But they are also training me, teaching me.  I had a photo shoot yesterday with a gorgeous submissive woman, and between scenes, when we had changed, she would fuss over me, help me tuck away a logo on my knickers or adjust a strap that was turned over.  It was very nurturing of her, even though I was being the domme and she was being the sub.  Weirdly, and despite the incredible energy in the room whilst shooting, this was the part that I took away and cherished most.

Any woman who was AFAB has so much more lived experience as a woman than I do, than I ever will, that such little lessons become cherished.  I am like a little girl in this way.  I think of one who taught me how to put on a bra.  Another who taught me how to pull my boobs to make them look nicer and also to eliminate any folds on the side.  How to put my stockings on.  How to walk in heels.  How to put make-up on.

But also more intimate things about hormones, feelings, bleeding.  I cherish these moments of unfettered honesty between women, that they have helped me step into being a woman.

It is rather amazing that it is such small things which accumulate, where together they create a wall of lived experience which ultimately defines identity.  Its rather beautiful.

And the more I simply exist as a woman, forgetting that I am trans or was ever a man, seems to make it all happen even faster.  My voice is changing little by little, with the support of a voice coach.  Some of it is pitch, but most of it is affect, and that takes lots of practice and training.  But speaking like a woman contributes to feeling like a woman, contributes to being a woman.

We become what we project.  We project what we are.  I guess one says you “fake it until you make it.”  It is actually a rather beautiful idea.  What I feel about it, and why I am so danged happy, is that I am at the point where the faking part is more and more behind me.

Who could ask for more?