Why Do Cisgender Lesbians Reject Transgender Women So Often

Why Do Cisgender Lesbians Reject Transgender Women So Often?

This is something I hear a lot from transgender women I interact with online. These women are transgender lesbians, and it can be really hard to find cisgender lesbians who will give them the time of day. That makes me sad. 

I understand of course that people often like to be physically attracted to someone, but if we're being honest, who one is physically attracted to changes much more often than people admit. For example, someone who is wildly attracted to a tall blonde, who ends up in a relationship with a petite brunette.

Relationships go deeper than the surface. The people we're attracted to check some boxes other than just what do they look like, if there is to be a relationship. Frankly, I've seen some amazingly hot transgender women anyway! Attraction also hinges on their personality, as well as their values and norms. 

There are a lot of great people out there. It seems silly and counterproductive to just plain block off the possibility of a relationship with someone based solely on the preconceived biases we all carry. 

Let's be real. No one knows what anyone else looks like under their clothes until and unless they end up at a point where they see them without those clothes. no one knows in advance anyway what a transgender woman has in her pants. For that matter, I met a cisgender guy who had no male genitalia because of an accident. So no one ever really, truly knows. Why in the world shut off an entire group of people, many of whom are resilient, fun, and caring?

Bluntly, it comes down to prejudice. Ignorant, probably unintentional, prejudice. These folks aren't ruling out dating a transgender woman because of who they are, but rather because of who they used to be. Who among all of us walking the Earth doesn't have some pretty out there stuff in our past, that if known, might make us somehow less desirable? All of us. 

Yet, none of us should have been in that position, and should not be now, either. That was what we WERE. We're not that person anymore. we're not. No one really wants to be judged on their past. Listen to who they are. No one reading this has a perfect body. Instead, maybe folks should be more like Pastor Mark Wingfield, and just be friends with a transgender person. See what happens. You never know!

What You Didn't Know About Sex That You Didn't Know You Didn't Know

 

Usually, by the time you're in your 40s and 50s, you know a lot about sex. I was pretty educated about sex. Knew my body pretty well, and knew what to do in the bedroom. Mind you, this isn't really a topic people talk with each other about. But by the time you're in that age group, generally, you know what you're doing. 

But then there are transgender women who have transitioned. What a muddled mess! Freaking nothing feels the same. Nothing works the same. Things that used to be awesome are useless, and things you never thought of before are the things you need to do. But good luck figuring out what these things are because no one else knows either!

Add to that, every woman is different, and what works for one woman doesn't work for another. Then, there is the reality of being transgender. Some of us have different parts than others of us do. Not only might doing a certain thing not work, but it literally might not even be possible!

As if that weren't enough, there are questions about your sexuality, when you're a transgender woman. Do you like women? Do you like men? Are you gay? Lesbian? Bisexual? Asexual? Pansexual? Does it matter? If it doesn't matter, what does that mean? Emotionally, does being nude in front of a man as a transgender woman scare the heck out of you, or excite you? What about in front of a woman?

One of the biggest challenges? What works today might well not work tomorrow, because now you have a woman's body with a woman's hormones, and gosh does that body do things the same way as cis-gender women or what?!? So today, you might want a gentle touch on your nipples because it totally drives you wild. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow you might need it to feel like someone pinched the heck out of them, or you might not want them touched at all. Who knows?

There are no manuals for this stuff. None. It's all trial and error. You feel awkward like you have never felt before. The difference between you and most folks is they get to explore over a series of years, whereas you're kind of expected to know it all asap, while unlearning all you knew before. It's being nervous. I have no idea why a person would feel nervous exploring alone in a room, but trust me, it is very possible. 

If someone else is there, what are they seeing? Do you look good or ridiculous or awesome? What are they thinking? It's a learning experience for your partner(s) too. They can be just as nervous and awkward about it as you are because this is new to them too. 

It's all kind of awful. Just being honest.

Yet, it is also one of the best experiences of your life. I have had the blessing of my wife and two women friends who encouraged me to try to just relax and take my time to figure things out. That's wise advice. Why?

Skin feels different. Touch feels different. Used to have a hairy chest? Might not now! Responses and reactions, goodness are they different! The most challenging part, and I guess it seems silly that it would be challenging, is that after transitioning the topography (in other words, the contour of your body) is a lot different. That can be startling in the middle of a private moment!

You can't stop because it's awkward. It's too important to quit on. This isn't riding a bicycle. Rather, it's trying to fly an airplane by channeling your bicycle riding experience. You have to keep learning, because if you don't, the nervousness, awkwardness, and embarrassment will overpower you, and when you fall off the bike you might never get back on. 

Harder still than overcoming everything and exploring yourself is figuring out how to explain to someone what you desire to feel and experience. Believe it or not, your vocabulary has to change too, or the way you ask for a certain touch might get you something you didn't anticipate. You have to make sure you don't ruffle feathers if your partner is a man, or hurt feelings if your partner is a woman. It's easy to do. A little understanding goes a long way. 

Don't give up. But don't just jump right back into the pool, either. Learn about yourself first. Why? Because you don't know what you don't know, yet. But learning it can be fun!

Trans in the Gas Station

2017

When you're doing something new, and you're not super confident, and you feel awkward and unsure, seeing someone else who is doing that same thing with confidence can be a real boost to your courage. Do you know what I mean?

I had only just started thinking about transition and hadn't made up my mind yet. I was full of self-doubt, nervousness, and often, outright fear at the idea. Could I do it? Really do it, and feel good about myself?  No one really makes a go of this in real life, right? People are super really crazily obvious when they transition, and look ridiculous. Right? 

Well, that's what I thought, anyway. Bring fair, the only real public face of being transgender I could think of was Ms. Jenner. I didn't really want to be her. 

My mind went back and forth. I didn't know what to do, to be honest. 

But one day I was at work, driving around the city of Dayton, OH. I was downtown, at the University of Dayton campus, and stopped in at a local Speedway gas station to get something to drink. 

I am one to analyze women's clothing. I form an opinion on outfits. Did she put together something cohesive? Does it accentuate her best features? Would that look good on me? Why or why not?

I was standing at the soda fountain, filling a cup with ice-cold Diet Coke. I saw a woman move to the coffee counter and begin to draw a cup of coffee from a carafe. She was wearing a blouse, flats, and a knee-length denim skirt. It looked good on her, and it worked very well with her hair and body shape. She had a great smile too. 

She turned to the side, and I was suddenly shocked to detect the faint bulge of a penis under her skirt fabric as she moved! She was pretty, had great hair, built, and well dressed, and I would have never guessed she was transgender. I was literally amazed.

I thought about her the rest of the day, and off and on for at least a week. She did it. She transitioned, and was kicking butt at it. She really was. She was out in public, confident, and living her life. I can't tell you what a shot in the arm that was. 

And now, here I am.

Green Is the Color of "Huh?"

 2018

As a member of the Army Reserve, I was attending drill. My unit was stationed at the Defense Supply Center Columbus (DSCC) in the Columbus, Ohio area. This is a large supply complex, on which in addition to the warehouses, etc., numerous Reserve and National Guard units were located. 

The drill started out like they often did, with one of the least challenging Physical Training (exercise) sessions at the DSCC gymnasium. I was at worst only mildly sweaty, but I really, really hate being smelly and dirty. The gym shower area, not at all my favorite place, was undergoing renovation. Only about half the showers were available, and my platoon was ordered to return to the building we drilled in to shower there. This surprised me, as we usually were forbidden to go there, but rather, it was saved for the E-8s and E-9s

As a transgender woman, I do not at all like having to undress in front of men. But, in the military, I was still not out, because at that time, being transgender was against regulations. with 28 years of service, I didn't want to lose it all.

At our building, there was a crappy little shower area, with 2 shower heads, 4 hooks on a wall, and a decently long bench. The shower heads were in a separate room, behind the bench room, and each shower head had a really long curtain. I soon found myself at the shower area and was shocked to see I was the only one present. Heck yeah!

I undressed quickly. Believe me, you undress quickly when you're in a men's shower room with shaved legs, armpits, and pubic area, and painted toenails. In this case, a medium-dark green. Frankly, they looked pretty good! But I quickly pulled on shower shoes and went into the other room to shower. 

As I started to shower, I heard someone come in, and the guy spoke to me, addressing me by name. He was a Staff Sergeant in my platoon, and apparently, he saw me go in. So he was talking about the upcoming activities, just general talk. But, while we were at the gym, he had been talking about this Soldier, a Corporal, that was in the unit several years ago. It seems that, according to him, this person was really weird. But, we had left the gym. 

Sensing a captive audience, he continued his story. The Corporal, it seems, was soft spoken, seemed very odd in general, didn't like sports, always smelled like baby powder, and all sort of things. As he spoke, I heard him come on into the shower area and go into the other spot. The water came on over there. 

Yet, the story continued. The Corporal in question always seemed to act differently around some male Soldiers. I was told that he was seen getting his hair cut in a beauty salon. Apparently, at one time, he was seen taking a shower, and he had his toenails painted blue. I was told how shocking this was, and how stupid it was that a guy would paint their toes. All this while I stood there with green toenails. Hey, at least green is an Army color!

I finished up quickly, and went to dry off. I moved as quickly as possible, and was soon wearing panties, a uniform t-shirt, and pulled on the uniform pants. I sat on the bench, and quickly dried my right foot, and reached for my sock. 

As I picked up the sock, the Staff Sergeant came out of the shower room and sat next to me. Looking over at me, and no doubt wondering for a moment why my face looked so goofy, he said "Can you believe any guy would paint his toenails? What a pussy! I mean, can you -". As he said it, he noticed the green on my foot as I reached to pull on my sock. He croaked out a startled "huh?" and then his voice stopped. 

Now, this guy wasn't someone who was violent. Thankfully. He was our supply sergeant. Goodness, was he shocked. He was quiet for a moment, then stammered for a moment, a silly sounding "uh uh uh uh". By this time, I had both socks on, and was pulling on my boots. I'm a  combat veteran, Putting boots on only takes a few seconds.

I was out of there while he was still shocked. The shower area opened onto the building's drill floor, which is just a large room that served as an area for meals, as well as a place to clean weapons, practice marching, all sorts of stuff. All I had to do was pull my top on over my t-shirt, and I looked just like everyone else.

I was concerned about what he would do. I'm sure he gossipped about it to others, but no one ever said a word to me about it. 

Baptism

Baptism

1983

I'm the brunette, transgender wife.

Growing up, I attended a conservative Christian church in Ohio. As a teen, life was complicated enough, but for me, being the teen I was, things were often even more complicated, but I had no idea why at the time. They just were.

There came a time in my life where I wanted to be baptized. It was, for lack of a better term, treated like a rite of passage for people in my church group. If you believed in Jesus, then you were baptized, to publicly demonstrate this belief. So I asked to be baptized. That’s what people did.

Churches tend to group baptisms together, for various reasons. Accordingly, one Sunday, at the end of the church service, there were several people grouped into the men’s restroom near the sanctuary (church word for an auditorium), changing out of church clothes into the clothing they intended to wear for baptism.

The church group I was part of practiced what’s called immersion baptism, which simply means you’re going to get dunked underwater, fully clothed. So, you want to wear clothing that you can change back out of quickly, and that won’t leave you feeling embarrassed when people see you dripping wet. In other words, no white clothing.

In this restroom were my youth pastor, a very nice person named Jon, several other adult men, my brother, and me. All changing clothes. I was self-conscious about myself, and for sure didn’t want to get undressed in a room with a bunch of guys, and I also didn’t want to be in a room with a bunch of naked guys. But, it had to be done. I remember at one point, I was bent over taking off my socks, and as I started to rise back up, I discovered a man right in front of me, also bent over, facing away from me, his penis and balls hanging between his legs, right in front of my face. I was shocked and very embarrassed.

I didn't know what to do. I froze.  

One at a time, we all went through a door and took our turn being baptized.

I was baptized. I don’t remember a thing about it, at all. I only remember that man’s genitals being thrust right in front of my face. It was such a very awkward situation. 

Private Lewis

1988

The following happened while I was in the period of knowing something was wrong; something was different, but I didn't understand yet what it was.

While in the Army, I was stationed at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. I lived in a military barracks, surrounded by men. It wasn’t an environment I was comfortable in, to be honest. There was a lot of “testosterone” going on, and that just wasn’t my thing. I just didn't know why yet. 

Barracks in the 1980s weren’t designed with privacy in mind. You shared a room with 2 or 3 guys and were never alone. The bathrooms didn’t have stall doors. The showers were crude and dirty, no matter how hard we tried to clean them, and lacked any sort of curtain. The shower rooms there had 4 shower heads, all in a row along the same wall.

One Saturday evening I was taking a shower. I had gotten wet, and soaped up, and was at that point in the shower where you’ve gotten the water as hot as you can stand it, and are just standing there, letting the water cascade down your body. It felt so darned good! I had been in the field, was grimy, and desperately wanted to be clean. 

I opened my eyes and realized someone had entered the shower. It was a new Soldier in the unit, named Private Lewis. I had just met him the previous day. He stood there under the water, his eyes closed. Lewis was tall, black, unusually well built, good looking, and I suddenly realized I was seeing parts of him I hadn’t seen before. As discreetly as possible, I watched him shower, his skin gleaming wetly as the water cascaded down over him.

Most times I was around nude men, I was extremely embarrassed, uncomfortable, and self-conscious. This time, for some reason, I was nervous, but not super uncomfortable. That lasted until I saw the muscles in his thighs and butt moving as he bathed, and I realized suddenly that I was responding physically!

I was suddenly desperate to get out of there. I needed so strongly to hide, to not be seen reacting to his body, to not be seeing him because I was terrified that I might react further. I was mortified and so very confused. Why in the world had I responded like that? Did I find him attractive? Oh my God! Was I gay?!?!?!? What was wrong with me?!?

I spent a very upset, confused night in my barracks room. Looking back, knowing what I know now, it makes perfect sense. But at the time, it was frightening. 

Telling Our Kids

2018

Frankly, telling our kids I am transgender terrified me. There's just no other way to say it. There was so much that could have gone wrong. I desperately wanted it to go well. Both of our kids were raised in a conservative Christian environment, and this gave me concern. My comforting thoughts were that they are genuinely good people and that both of them had shown signs of rebellion against that conservative background. 

Our older child is whip-smart, but that isn't who she is as a person. It does, however, enable her to dig deep into things and toss them around, and so I knew that she might well have some problems with all of this. However, she has friends and people she knows that are homosexual or transgender, and so honestly, I thought that might help. She has a lot of talents, and many of our discussions are on weighty matters, and I respect that about her.

Our younger child is also super smart, compassionate, and sees the best in people. I thought this might help, but at the same time, there is that conservative background, which had always seemed to have more of an impact on how she saw things than her older sister. She is a sweetheart, and she has a way of seeing the feelings behind the statement. She's an amazing storyteller - in an earlier time she easily could have been a bard - and I knew that because her mind can stitch together a tale, she would either quickly grasp the good in this, or find bad in it. She's creative, and I knew either she would be immediately comfortable, or horribly offended.

I agonized about how to say it. I agonized about what to say. I agonized about whether or not to even say anything. Would they notice? I knew they would, and likely already had. Would they care? Would they hate me? Would they embrace me? Would they no longer want to talk to me? I couldn't bear that, because they both are very special to me.

I researched how others have gone about telling their children, and I focused on those who talked about how they told adult children, because our kids are strong young women, and not kids at all. The method that seemed to work best was using a letter, so I decided to use that method.

I spent weeks composing a letter to them. Our family thrives on humor and sarcasm, so I tapped into both of these, and opened my heart, speaking (writing?) honestly about what I was experiencing. Our daughters are roommates in an apartment, so I gave them the letters with the instruction to read them at the same time, each in their own room.

Based on what they told us later, there was of course surprise and a lot of tears. But the part that really blessed me was that later that day, each of them contacted me and told me that they still love me. I can't tell you what a joy that was! They gave me tears of my own.