Fair warning Mom; I’m going to talk about my dick…
When I decided to catch up to the year 2002 and write a blog, I made a promise to myself to be as open and honest as possible no matter how raw or brutally honest it gets. So, at first, I wondered what I could talk about. The first thing that popped up in my mind was my crippling depression. The next was my experience as a transgender woman.
Before I begin. I want you to know that my experiences as a trans woman are mine alone. Believe it or not, us trans folk come in a variety of flavors; each flavor with their own upbringing, physical reactions to hormone replacement therapy, mental health (or lack thereof in my case), and support from family and friends. Each flavor their own: I like to believe I’m cinnamon ‘cause I’m spicy and go great with French toast.
For me, being trans has been educational; physically, emotionally, and socially. I’m here to talk about all three by answering questions people ask me all the time. As the title suggests, you should never (EVER!) ask a trans woman these questions. In fact, the answer to all the questions you read below should always be, “None of your goddamn business!” But I get it, you’re curious. Believe me, I understand curiosity. I do things all the time just to see what will happen (writing this article, for instance!). So, in the spirit of curiosity and education I’ll take some for the team. Just don’t ask anyone else. Don’t be a dick – Hey! Speaking of which –
1. DO YOU STILL HAVE A DICK?
I guess I should start with the question I get asked the most: “Do you still have a dick?” The question usually comes out as a more passive-aggressive “Have you had . . . y’know . . . (mouthing silently) the surgery yet?” But I know what you mean. You’re wondering if I’m still an eggplant or a donut. And, if I’m an eggplant, the next question is usually, “Okay . . . does it still . . . function correctly?” Which is a nice way of asking whether or not it can still get hard when aroused; or ejaculate.
Hold on while take this shot of Tequila before I answer:
Yes, I still have a dick – for now. Yes, it still works; but not like it used to.
First, let me give you some insight into my relationship with my dick. And this may be the hardest (ha!) thing to describe in the article. To be honest, I should have waited until I was about 3 shots of tequila in before I tackled this. Some trans women hate their dicks. They can’t stand them. Their dicks are like a growth that needs to be removed. It’s called “Gender Dysphoria”. Dysphoria can be mental or physical. There have been slews of books written about it so you’ll have to do your own homework about the different types and how it affects different people, but basically it’s the distress a person suffers when their gender identity doesn’t match their physical bodies. It’s a perfectly normal and valid feeling that trans women have with their dicks – and balls for that matter.
I don’t necessarily have dysphoria over my dick (my breasts and face are another matter). In fact, I don’t really mind my dick; but, at the same time, if the opportunity came up to chop that sucker off (not even close to how that surgery works, by the way), I would. I’ll totally journal and publish my experience of the surgery and the recovery if anyone wants to finance it! 🙂
So yes, I still have my dick. It works just fine too! It even gets hard when I’m horny, although not as hard as it used to. And it doesn’t get hard for no reason any more. Most people who transition later in life tend to regret not doing it earlier, but I see it as a unique experience. Think about it. I grew up and went through puberty with all the parts of a male. Then I transitioned and experienced another puberty as a girl. Two horrible, acne-laden, puberties for the price of several cars! Therefore, I have this amazing perspective about life and what it means to be male and female.
Getting back to hard dicks: hey cis gals, did you know that dicks can get hard for no reason? You’re sitting there at work, wondering whether a chimichanga is just a fried burrito, or perhaps something more . . . then wham! – your dick fills up; hard. For cis guys it’s a normal Tuesday. It doesn’t mean they want to fuck a chimichanga (some of them anyway), it just happens. That doesn’t happen with me anymore. My dick can get hard (raging even!), but I have to be sexually aroused for it to happen. I don’t know why. I’m not here to lecture, just to give my experience. Anything more would be premature. Hey! Speaking of which –
What happens there, you ask? If you imagine ejaculation like an erupting volcano; try to imagine the lava slowly seeping out the sides; maybe a tiny pop of lava every now and then. That’s me! And that’s if there’s any seeping at all! Sometimes nothing comes out.
But the orgasms . . .
Ho – Lee – Shit. You guys, orgasms are amazing! Before I transitioned, it was a one-and-done deal. I orgasmed, it was explosive, then it was gone. Now . . . I can’t even describe it. It’s more like a shockwave that won’t stop. It starts small, then progressively gets bigger and bigger until I’m screaming for it to stop, yet begging for more. Wave after wave of pure pleasure that lasts as long as Extra Sugar-Free Gum. My orgasms also changed my mental state as well. Before transition, I orgasmed, then I was done. All I could think about was going to bed. Now, after orgasm, I want nothing more than to hug and cuddle. Weird.
I’m repeating myself at this point, but remember, these experiences are mine and mine alone. You can’t apply anything I say here to another transgender women. In many ways, it makes these questions moot. The only answer you get applies specifically to that person. I’d be lying if I said anything otherwise. And I’m a horrible liar; just ask my girlfriend.
“Wait? Girlfriend?” you ask, “So –
2. DOES THAT MEAN YOU’RE GAY? OR STRAIGHT? WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON THERE?
It seems like a logical question at first doesn’t it? I mean, when you think about the community, you always think of those wonderful letters: LGBT, then later LGBTQ, and now LGBTQA! If you think that gets confusing, try being a part of it! There’s several arguments within the community over what the hell it means to be LESBIAN, GAY, BISEXUAL, TRANSGENDER, QUEER, or ASEXUAL; or, what should be included or excluded.
But hey! Did you notice that most of those labels have to do with sexual orientation? Except one: Transgender. Yes! Being trans has nothing to do with sexual orientation. If someone is trans they can also be straight, or gay, or bi.
Jesus Christ, are you still confused? Okay, shot number 2 coming up:
I get the confusion, I really do. I was a transgender child growing up in Rural America during the 80’s and 90’s (there’s a fucking book right there), so I didn’t know what the hell was going on with my body, or what I preferred sexually. I thought they might be related so I assumed they belonged in the same category; just like most of you.
By my teenage years, I was fully aware that I liked both sexes; I dug girls as well as guys. But here’s the kicker, I was also fully aware that I definitely shouldn’t have been a born male. So, of course, in my stupid little teenage brain, I thought that I wanted to be female because I had an attraction to guys. You see? Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity seem like they should be related, especially when you’re going through discoveries of both during your pubescent years.
Think of it like this: what type of soda person are you? Are you a smart, reasonable Coke person? A filthy, disgusting Pepsi person? An extreme, awesome Mountain Dew person still stuck in the 90’s? C’mon answer; answer out loud, no one’s going to care. Now, what color are your eyes? Are they blue? Green? Shit-brown like mine? (check the picture above). Well there you go. What does your preference of soda have to do with your eye color? FUCKING NOTHING! And that’s the point. Hell, if you think you’d be more comfortable with blue eyes instead of shit-brown eyes, you can even change them! Yeah, metaphors are fucking brilliant when you’re 2 shots in of tequila!
Okay, you say, I finally get it: you are Transgender; but, separately, you are also Bisexual: got it!
Actually, I’m Pansexual . . .
What’s Pansexual, you ask? What? Oh, you thought this section was over? You sit right back down and strap the fuck in (here, I’ll help!) because we are not even close to done! I haven’t even gotten to the “Umbrella Terms” yet.
“Umbrella Terms?”, you ask.
Imagine an opened umbrella. At the top, where the little point is, there appears a word. Let’s say the word is, “BISEXUAL”. Under the umbrella are all the terms, preferences, and orientations relating to the the word “BISEXUAL”: you got Pansexual, you got Polysexual, Mono-Poly, Queer, Fluid, Homoflexible/Lesbiflexible, Heteroflexible, Be-curios, Polyomnival, Omnisexual, etc. And all of those are just under the “BISEXUAL” label. TRANSGENDER has its own umbrella too! As does GAY, and LESBIAN, and others.
Holy shit, you say, how the hell can I keep up?!
That’s just it, you can’t. I know I can’t, and I’m in the community! But don’t fret about it. I get it. You have a job and a busy life, there’s no way you can keep up with all these terms all the time. The terms change too; so it’s a losing battle. I’ll take this time to remind you that this is my opinion and my perspective. There are some in the community that think everyone should know every term; I simply disagree. And for those pretentious members of the community nodding furiously at my umbrella list up there screaming, “Yeah! Everyone should learn these terms!” Calm the fuck down: two of the terms don’t even belong: One of them I made up, and the other is a goddamn board game.
Look, you’re a nice person, I know you are. And you want to try your best. So, I’ll give you the keys to understanding everything right now –
- Do your research (when you have time).
- Don’t. Be. An. Asshole.
The world is made up so many people. When you think about it, it’s kind of impossible to ask 7 billion people or so to adhere to a very specific, very recent, and very authoritarian way of living in regards to sexual orientation – and love.
And if you ever accidentally misgender someone, or use the wrong term they prefer, just say, “I’m sorry.” and move on. It’s okay. I’ve been struggling with all this since I was young. It’s why I didn’t come out into my early 30’s.
“Oh! That reminds me,” you say –
3. WHAT NAME DID YOU GO BY/WHAT DID YOU LOOK LIKE BEFORE YOUR TRANSITION?
Uh . . .
You basterds are so fucking nosy! And you know what? I’m going to do it. I’m going to show you pictures and let you in on my name. Why? Because a promise is a promise!
First, I can’t repeat myself enough: DO NOT ASK THIS TO A TRANSGENDER PERSON AT ALL. Out of all the questions, this might be the one that most people are curious about, yet the most they have the least business knowing.
Imagine there’s this deformation where a small percentage of the population are born with an elephant’s trunk protruding from their forehead. Wait, that’s stupid (I’m starting to feel the tequilas). Imagine a deformation where a small percentage of the population are born with an elephant’s trunk protruding from their chest (much better!). Imagine you have this deformation, so you go through the necessary, and expensive, steps to remove it. Yet because of the scar it left, or perhaps the way it changed the way you walk, or maybe you’re okay talking about it in the spirit of education; whatever the reason, you’re going to have people come up to you saying, “You’re an ‘Elphie’! No way! What did you look like before!” You spent all the time, money, and effort to forget about that ugly thing and all people want to do is see pictures of it. And most of these people aren’t being malicious. Well, they are; they just don’t know it.
Here’s the point. You are curious; and curiosity is a very strong impulse. But there comes a time in your life where you have to wonder where curiosity ends and ignorance begins; or whether curiosity matters or not. I’m not daring you to look at the pictures, I’m asking whether looking at the pictures even matters; in the grand scheme of things anyway. It shouldn’t matter. I am not those pictures anymore (the before ones anyway). I am Kiko; here and now. I want nothing to do with those pictures anymore.
So why do I keep them? Good question. I don’t know. Many trans women don’t. They delete everything from the past that they can. I can’t do it; for some reason.
If you do look at the pictures, I won’t judge you. I can’t judge you. So here they are; some before and afters:
Are you happy now? Intrigued? Satisfied? Feeling guilty?
On to my name.
My name is Kiko. It always was really. I’ve been called Kiko since I was born. So, as far as I’m concerned, that’s always been my name. I had a legal name, but since that never really came into my life aside from signing legal documents, I see no need to tell you. Besides, saying the name would give it some underserved power.
Why “Kiko”? Shit, I don’t know. I’ve met more dogs named “Kiko” than humans. But it’s unique and I just can’t say no to it.
Identity is something us trans folk deal with on a daily basis. “What’s in a name?”, “What do I look like today?”, “Do I look . . . normal?”. When you’ve grown (or are growing) in a body that your mind doesn’t agree with, it can fuck you up. I remember having this argument with a customer one day back when I worked at a convenient store. She said, “My son wanted to be a dog last week. Should we consider surgery?” Very funny lady. It’s hard to relate when you’re not transgender. Think of it this way: how many kids do you know commit suicide because they can’t be a dog?
Personally, I prefer the past to stay there. I’ve worked so hard to keep it that way. Except today anyway. I feel almost as if I’m coming out all over again in a way.
“Again?” you ask. “Oh that reminds me” –
4. WHEN DID YOU DECIDE TO BECOME TRANSGENDER?
Same time you decided not to be transgender, you asshole. Oh, you didn’t decide not to become transgender? Look, I know I may be talking in circles, but think of it like this: I have always known. I knew I should have been born a girl since I was little. It’s my earliest memory.
Imagine a little boy, 3-years-old, lying in bed at night. His mother has already tucked him in. The boy stares at his bedroom ceiling engulfed in darkness, unblinking. The little boy has his hands together; praying. Praying to God that he wakes up as a girl in the morning. The Dysphoria is so strong at this point in his young life, the anguish has reached a point of physical and mental exhaustion – again, to a 3-year-old. To this boy, God can to anything, and God loves him. To this boy (especially in the 1980s), this is the only way he knows how his mind can finally be at ease. The only way his body can match her mind. He’s so embarrassed he dares not say it out loud.
He talks to God in his mind, begging to be a girl in the morning, then whispers, interrupting the dark, “Please . . .”
Tears stream down his cheeks; his lips quiver, “Please. . . “
He cries himself to sleep, “Please . . . “
Now, imagine going through this ritual, every fucking night, for years. Hold on a sec –
It was never a “decision”; I never “decided”. I’ve never met any trans woman who did. It doesn’t mean they don’t exist; again, these are my experiences. But I don’t know anyone who would voluntarily go through this torment. I wouldn’t wish it on my biggest enemy- maybe Caleb Bradham.
Okay, so maybe you didn’t mean “decide”. Maybe you meant, “When did you first embark on this gender journey?” That’s much more elegant, and still none of your goddamn business . . .
The answer isn’t simple. I could tell you when I first started experimenting with clothes: I stole from my sister growing up (sorry Sis!). I could tell you the first time I started trying out makeup: I stole from my Mom (sorry Mom!). I could tell you the first time I met up with someone because they wanted to “fuck a tranny”: it was not a lunch date. It’s not a simple answer. There’s all sorts of “firsts” when a woman transitions: there’s Medical Transition, Social Transition, Mental Transition, Physical Transition, etc, etc. Many trans woman have different times they designate as their “beginning”.
For me, I just count the first time I took hormones: February of 2015. Nothing special really. I took pills, I was happy, months later, boobs popped up (smaller ones than I’d like).
The beginning is always a touchy subject for many trans women. It can bring memories of horrible times they’d like to forget. I hate the past. I like to focus on the future and all the wonderful things in store for me.
“The future,” you say. “So – “
5. WHEN WILL YOU BE FINISHED TRANSITIONING?
I’ll make it simple: there is no end. Not for me anyway.
I know several trans women who, as far as they’re concerned, are done. They are finally complete: they are satisfied. That’s such a wonderful thing to hear. I love that. I’m also insanely envious. I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way; at least, I don’t see that feeling coming in the near future. Maybe surgery can help, I don’t know.
Here’s the thing: dysphoria is such a strong feeling. And I’ve had it for so long that I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied. I don’t think I’ll ever look in the mirror and finally be content.
It’s not like I stick out like a sore thumb or anything. Most people I meet nowadays don’t even know I’m trans. I’ve had so much laser hair removal, voice training, hormone replacement therapy, weight loss, makeup skills; I just fit in. Yet, it’s not enough. And if anyone I’ve recently met has stumbled their way to my blog . . .Hi there! Surprised Motherfucker?!
But I could say the same about you. I mean, if you’re a woman, have you ever seen another woman and think, that’s a real woman. Maybe you saw her give an amazing speech. Maybe you saw how she helped the needy. Maybe you saw how she was so nice and forgiving. Same goes for you men. We all have standards of what makes a real woman or man; and maybe we aren’t there yet, not all of us anyway. Myself included.
But it doesn’t mean we can’t get there! If you want to be the woman or man you strive to be, then start doing something about it. Make the necessary baby steps and take hold of your life and be the most amazing person you strive to be. As long as you do a little today, then it’s that much more you did yesterday.
We all have the potential to be the best we can be. It starts by treating others with as much respect as we’d like to have ourselves.
A great way to start is to quit asking all these asinine, ignorant and (quite frankly) selfish questions. If, or when, you meet a trans woman, here’s something you might want to try: get to know them as a person. What hobbies do they like? Are they into biking like you? Or maybe board games? Fucking humanize them for god sake.
You might find a friend, instead of a curiosity.