Abstract
There is little sociological research about trans pleasure, especially trans sexual pleasure. This article fills this gap by turning to the dating and sex lives of trans women and femmes to learn about trans sex and trans pleasure. Based on qualitative interviews with 48 trans women and femmes in the United States, this article shows how comfort is important in experiencing and giving pleasure and how comfort can be crucial to social relations, including within sexual relations. This article also mainly—but not exclusively—turns to trans for trans relations to explore trans sexualities outside of cis desires. In turning to trans folks’ sex lives, this article challenges the cisness within sexuality studies by moving sex and pleasure away from gender stereotypes and genitals. In doing so, this article proffers a comfort turn within sociology and sexualities studies, demonstrating how comfort is a mode of relation that is crucial for care, communication, consent, and community. Ultimately, comfort can challenge cis assumptions about sex, pleasure, and sexuality.
Introduction
Cisness is fucking up our sex lives. And not in a good way.
Cisness—the ideology that gender and sex are binary and biological truths—makes folks assume all bodies are cis or function like cis bodies. Cisness erases how trans people—whether transitioning or not—can experience sex and pleasure differently than cis people. Cisness also centers cis pleasure, and it effaces the sex lives of trans people.
Indeed, research on trans people and sexuality often focuses on dysphoria (Jones 2019). Historically, the dominant medical model of transsexuality was about repressing or denying a sexuality (Davy and Steinbock 2012). Within this construction of transsexuality, a “true” trans person was supposed to have a heterosexual orientation and a disgust toward their own genitals. To express sexuality was seen as a type of dysfunctional mode of trans embodiment (Davy and Steinbock 2012). In turn, many people know little about trans pleasure, including about trans sexual pleasure.
But many trans folks have (and have had) active sex lives. And these sexual experiences can destabilize how cisness constructs trans people and their sex lives. That is, trans sexualities can challenge cis medical narratives about trans people and can disrupt both de-eroticized and hyper-sexual narratives that often characterize trans folks (Davy and Steinbock 2012). Furthermore, studying trans sex and sexualities can show how not all trans people are straight or desire other cis people, and it can teach us a thing or two about pleasure.
In this article, I turn to the dating and sex lives of trans women and femmes to learn about trans sex and trans pleasure. The data are based on qualitative interviews with 48 trans women and femmes in the United States. The qualitative interviews mapped out the trans women’s and femme’s experiences with dating, hooking up, and sex. All interviews were conducted over Zoom from September 2022 to November 2022 and were semistructured. Through analyzing these interviews, I show how comfort is important in experiencing and giving pleasure and how comfort can be crucial to social relations, including within sexual relations. This article also mainly—but not exclusively—turns to trans for trans (t4t) relations to explore trans sexualities outside of cis desires. In turning to trans folks’ sex lives, including t4t sexual relations, this article challenges the cisness within sexuality studies by moving sex and pleasure away from gender stereotypes and genitals. Instead, it highlights the importance of comfort, care, and communication—not gender and genitals—when it comes to our sexual relations and sexual pleasures.
The Pleasure of Communication, the Comfort of t4t
Sexual communication is often linked to more satisfying relationships and better sexual experiences (Byers 2011). For many folks in this study, sexual communication was also linked to pleasure and comfort. Sabi, a 22-year-old South Asian American bisexual nonbinary person, discussed how comfort, discomfort, and communication shape sexual interactions with and for trans people. “A lot of trans people have a lot of big stuff about where they like to be touched, and what they like in particular. For me, I’m lucky enough that I don’t have any particular genital dysphoria,” Sabi explained, “I know a lot of people do, so whenever I’m hooking up with someone, I do ask, ‘Hey, is there any part of you that you don’t want me to interact with?’” Sabi went on, “Yeah, I think that would actually be the big thing is setting the ground rules of what they’re comfortable with in terms of dysphoria because that can be the second emergency stop on a train if you touch parts that they feel very uncomfortable about, you can just cause the entire thing to slam shut, and it doesn’t work out great for either person.”
Sabi challenges the notion that all trans people experience genital dysphoria, as Sabi does not. Sabi, however, is also aware that trans people are not a monolith. Trans people have different needs and experiences of sex and of their bodies. As Sabi often engages in sexual relations with other trans people, Sabi uses sexual communication to make sure that Sabi’s sexual partners are comfortable. Communication is part of feeling comfortable, and comfort is often crucial to amazing sexual experiences. As Sabi notes, if discomfort arises, it can be a mood killer for all involved.
For trans people who experience dysphoria around their genitals, it can be common to avoid certain types of intimacy as a strategy to avoid distress (Prunas 2019). Communication can help, then, to shift sexual aspects away from things that are uncomfortable (Ross et al. 2024). Gabrielle, a 28-year-old Black and Indigenous queer trans woman, talked about comfort in relation to communication, consent, and sexual touch. Specifically, Gabrielle detailed a sexual experience with a trans man. As Gabrielle recounted, “There was a moment where he wanted to play with my genitals, and then he put his hands down my pants. And he was like, ‘Hey, how should I refer to your genitals? How would you like me to refer to them? Is it okay if I touch you right here?’” Gabrielle wasn’t used to this type of communication, but it provided comfort. “I’m not used to that from a cis man,” Gabrielle stated, “So, it was very nice. He was just more knowledgeable about consent, more knowledgeable about trans issues and people’s dysphoria and how they can feel dysphoric—like their genitals being referred to by a different name or their body being touched in a certain way that doesn’t feel affirming.” Going on, Gabrielle said, “Sexuality can be really tough and sex can be very tough for trans people to navigate. So, I really loved that he was very attentive and asking me questions about my body and was I comfortable with him touching me here, or how he referred to my body parts. I thought that was really special.” For Gabrielle, this t4t encounter, including the care and communication involved during the sexual encounter, shaped experiences of affirmation. Gabrielle loved and found comfort in the attentiveness and communication of this man and his touch.
Trans people often express interest in t4t relations due to comfort and a shared understanding of being trans (Griffiths and Armstrong 2023). For both Sabi and Gabrielle, t4t also challenges the notion that trans people can only date and hookup with cis people in order to be valued and legitimated. Trans womanhood is often constructed as needing cis heterosexual validation—trans women need to be in a relationship with a cishet man to achieve “real” womanhood (Meyerowitz 2002). Society maintains this cis heterosexual illusion partly through obscuring lesbian, queer, and nonheterosexual trans women. And it partly maintains this illusion through erasing t4t relationships, wherein trans people neither seek nor need cis people to feel desired and legitimated. In challenging the need for cis validation, t4t can open up new sexual scripts that do not rely on cisgender ideas of how to have sex such as the privileging of genitals during sexual interactions (Malatino 2020, 2022). t4t centers trans people, their pleasures, and their desires. And t4t is a strategy that moves away from centering cis people and their desires (Awkward-Rich and Malatino 2022). t4t has the power, then, to disrupt cisness through moving away from or through resignifying gender and genitals during sex.
Notably, trans women and femmes often have to navigate being fetishized as hyper-sexual (Robinson 2023). Trans women and femmes of color often have to deal with being fetishized and hyper-sexualized for both their race and being trans (Ussher et al. 2022). t4t—especially sexually—can be an escape from the hyper-sexualization, objectification, and fetishization that trans people may experience with certain cis folks. For trans folks of color, t4t may also provide an escape from cis white people who also racially fetishize them. Indeed, during the interview, Gabrielle also discussed a sexual encounter with a cis white man who “referred to me as the term hooker. And so, it was interesting, he had referred to my penis as being a big black cock, BBC.” Gabrielle went on describing this horrifying encounter. “Like racially profiling me, stereotyping me based off of stereotypes of what a Black person. . .But it’s very much they perceive me as this Black man or a savage type of person who’s super slutty, kinky, and is ready to have sex with anyone at any given second of the day,” Gabrielle detailed, “I don’t like dating white people. It’s just not for me dealing with like racism.” Gabrielle often also had a smoother and more enjoyable time with other trans folks as well, as trans people are often “caught up on my gender identity, my physical body.”
The escape from stereotypes of trans people, especially of trans people of color, can be comforting and freeing. Indeed, research has shown that Black people in relationships with white people often have to do race work of educating their partners about racism (Steinbugler 2012). Gabrielle preferred dating folks of color, as people of color often do not want to do the labor of educating white people on a date or while hooking up. Similarly, trans people may also feel burdened explaining their bodies and gender to cis people (Kai and Devor 2022). Furthermore, racism within queer and trans communities can make connecting with white trans people its own form of labor for trans people of color (Giwa and Greensmith 2012; Zamantakis 2020). In turn, to avoid the intimate and emotional labor trans people of color may have to do with white trans people, trans people of color may selectively date or hookup with other trans people of color (Zamantakis 2020). t4t, then, can help trans women and femmes find comfort and freedom away from cis sexual stereotypes of trans women and femmes. For trans women and femmes of color, t4t with similar racial others can mitigate the effects of whiteness and cisness within intimate relationships (Zamantakis 2020). t4t, then, can allow trans folks to feel comfortable with one another as they do not have to do as much labor educating their sexual partners and can escape sexual stereotypes that objectify them.
The Freedom of Bodily Comfort
Dominant understandings of sex and sexuality are often genital-centered. For some trans people, there can be a decentering of genitals during sex, which can open up pleasure to other bodily experiences beyond the hyperfocus on genitals (Vidal-Ortiz 2002). Quinn, a 22-year-old white lesbian trans woman, discussed sexual communication, comfort, and the freedom of decentering genitals in experiencing pleasure. Quinn explained, “I typically before engaging in sex with someone, I discuss where I have dysphoria around. Like, I have dysphoria specifically around my genitals, and I dislike using and having sustained contact with my genitals in sexual situations.” Quinn went on to talk about an experience of not being pressured to use one’s genitals during sex with a particular partner. “That was a very liberating experience,” Quinn stated, “Because there was no pressure to interact in that way, that I was not being asked to use my genitals, I was using them of my own will and to the extent I was comfortable using them.” Comfort and communication can be essential to exploring these other pleasurable possibilities. That is, moving sex and pleasure away from a focus on genitals can expand notions of sex and pleasure. It can move pleasure away from cis ways of thinking about sex. And it can be liberating. Trans sex and pleasure can challenge, then, the hyper-focus on genitals and can show how comfort, communication, and care are also erotic and enjoyable.
Furthermore, hormone replacement therapy (HRT) has been shown to lead to increased sexual satisfaction for trans people, possibly through increased body satisfaction (Burns, Beischel, and Van Anders 2024). One’s sex drive can also rise, which can be linked to increased comfort and confidence with one’s body (Rosenberg, Tilley, and Morgan 2019). Chic, a 32-year-old white pansexual (with sapphic leanings) nonbinary trans femme, discussed bodily changes, pleasure, and understanding oneself more sexually. “A lot of people I have sex with are also trans feminine, nowadays, at least,” Chic explained, “And they understood me being trans. If I had things to talk with them like, ‘Oh, hey, I’m experiencing pleasure a little differently, so do this differently.’ You know, discuss that kinda stuff.” Chic went on, “Another aspect I really like is I understand myself sexually better than ever. It’s really weird.” Chic explained why. “In most of my sexual history, like pre-transitioning, I’ve had some problems before during sex, like, enjoying sex, just getting off with other people,” Chic detailed, “And despite some of the impediments that come with medically transitioning, like taking HRT and stuff, I’ve been enjoying sex more than ever. I could get off with partners relatively a lot more easy than I was able to before. I just feel more comfortable. TLDR, sex feels good now. Sex feels amazing now.”
Chic acknowledges how HRT can lead to some impediments. For instance, Sabi—from the previous section—discussed one of these sexual roadblocks. “If they want me to be dominant, I mean, honestly, at this point—this might be TMI, so stop me—but at this point, estrogen has done to my ability to top what the oil rigs have done to the Texas rural community. They’ve decimated it,” Sabi exclaimed, “There’s no way it’s coming back up. I tried topping my partner recently and it just didn’t work at all for both parties. And I think that’s the biggest worry is if they expect me to top. I’m fine dominating, but it’s not even a question of do I want to, it’s just like this won’t happen.” For Chic, though, sex is just better despite some obstacles. Feeling comfortable in one’s own body, along with communicating one’s needs and pleasures, can lead to sex being amazing.
And like many folks in this study, Chic mainly engages in t4t sex. t4t often bases connections, including intimate connections, on love, support, respect, comfort, connection, communication, and solidarity (Lundy-Harris 2022). Moreover, hooking up with other trans people can be affirmative, as trans people can see each other in one another and accept and love each other’s bodies (Kai and Devor 2022). t4t can allow for a sexual exploration of bodies that is affirming and satisfying (Kai and Devor 2022). For Chic, trans people understand each other’s bodies and transitions better. A reason trans people may date and hookup with other trans people is the potential ease of understanding each other. There is a comfort in this t4t ease, in this t4t understanding, in not having to explain the trans experience. Part of this affirmation can also be the other trans person communicating and being knowledgeable about trans bodies and potential dysphoria. That is, part of this affirmation was about challenging cis ways of pursuing sex that often just rely on genitals and gender stereotypes and not on care and communication. There was a comfort and pleasure, then, in t4t. This comfort was also from the knowledge, communication, care, and consent that were present during the sexual interaction, and through this comfort, sex feels good now.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Find Out What Comfort Means
t4t, though, does not have to be the only solution to finding comfort and pleasure. During an interview for this study, Carmen, a 24-year-old Latina queer pansexual trans woman, discussed respect in relation to comfort, dating, and hooking up with all people, including with cis people. “When thinking about dating, the first thing that comes to mind is actually—and I think a lot of people trans or not—it’s about seeking respect,” Carmen explained, “Do you respect me as the transgender woman that is in front of you? Or is there a deeper agenda?” Carmen went on to explain that playing this “guessing game of if I’m gonna be respected or if I’m gonna be fetishized” keeps Carmen’s “guard up” when navigating the dating and hookup landscape. “I do make it clear that I’m not into people, specifically men who are discreet or on the down low,” Carmen stated, “I think that has been a lesson learned throughout my transition is that not to waste my time there. Cause most times, I’m gonna be disrespected, and I’m gonna feel used.”
Carmen went on to give specific details about a cis guy who Carmen dates and who shows respect and provides comfort. On one date, Carmen and this man went to McGuane Park in Chicago. Afterward, they had dinner in Chinatown, “and after that, we had shared a kiss.” However, because of past experiences of men wanting to keep Carmen “a secret,” Carmen experienced a bit of worry about this public display of affection. In turn, Carmen asked this man if he was okay being affectionate in public. As Carmen recalled, “And I’m just like, ‘Okay, well, you’re not nervous holding my hand out in public like this?’ And he would always assure me that it’s not anyone else’s business what we’re doing.”
These moments of respect made Carmen experience euphoric comfort. “I feel the most pleasure when I don’t have to worry,” Carmen noted, “If a person makes me feel comfortable during the date, and I’m able to lower my guard down, I think that in itself is like. . .it’s kind of euphoric in a way where I could feel comfortable in who I am.” Pleasure and euphoria were related to comfort, safety, respect, and being affectionate in public. As Carmen further explained, “Being told that my life was safe and that I didn’t have to fear being disrespected or feeling like I couldn’t hold his hand or that we couldn’t share a kiss out in public. Yeah, I think it’s definitely that.”
As Carmen is a woman of color, Carmen navigates both racial and trans fetishization on the dating and hookup scene (Ussher et al. 2022). Trans folks, especially trans people of color, often have to keep their guard up and stay alert while dating and hooking up in order to be safe and in order to try to avoid people who just fetishize and objectify them. Alternatively, in letting one’s guard down, Carmen experienced euphoria and pleasure. Euphoria is often linked to positive emotions of having one’s identity affirmed (Kai and Devor 2022). For Carmen, euphoria and pleasure get linked to comfort—to not having to worry, to being respected, to being loved in public, to being accepted for who one is. Respect—validating someone and their needs—becomes an important part of building comfort. And comfort—the freedom from worry—is where pleasure begins to reside.
The Comfort Turn
We as queer, trans, and sexualities scholars have been making some important and critical turns recently. In sexualities studies, there has been the pleasure turn (Jones 2019; Orne 2017). This turn has centered pleasure in understanding sex, sexuality, and social life and has been a corrective to the frequent focus on health, disease, and sex negativity within sexualities research (Jones 2019; Robinson 2022). This pleasure turn is also part of a larger agenda of understanding pleasure as a measure of freedom (brown 2019; Robinson 2022). All people need and deserve pleasure—that satisfaction and enjoyment that is life-enriching. And a pleasure politic strives toward the goal of changing our social structures to reflect this belief (brown 2019).
Moreover, in trans studies, there has been a joy and euphoria turn. This turn has been a corrective to the “joy deficit” both within trans studies and within sociology (Shuster and Westbrook 2022). The concept of euphoria comes from the trans community to describe positive emotions, including joyful feelings about one’s gender (Austin, Papciak, and Lovins 2022; Beischel, Gauvin, and Van Anders 2022). And euphoria and joy push back against the medical and social scientific approaches that focus on dysphoria and pathologizing trans lives. This corrective also pushes back on trans people just being vulnerable subjects (Shuster and Westbrook 2022; Westbrook 2020). Joy and euphoria highlight the positive aspects of trans lives and show how trans people are more than just people who experience violence and discrimination.
This piece proffers perhaps another turn—the comfort turn. Indeed, the word comfort came up constantly and frequently with the trans women and femmes interviewed for this study. Over 40 of the 48 folks in this study mentioned the word at some point during the interview. Comfort is central to how people experience and navigate dating, sex, hooking up, desire, pleasure, joy, and euphoria. One might even say comfort is foundational to the types of pleasure and joy that do not hurt, harm, and oppress. Comfort, moreover, is a mode of relation that is crucial for care, communication, consent, and community. And comfort is pivotal in getting us to gender liberation and sexual freedom. We need to study and examine comfort, including sexual comfort.
As this study demonstrates, comfort can open up the world to other pleasures, better pleasures. And comfort can challenge cisness. For instance, a focus on comfort can reorient pleasure away from genitals and gender stereotypes (key parts of the construction of pleasure under cis logics). Comfort centers care, communication, and consent as part of giving and experiencing pleasure. Notably, for the people in this study, t4t was often where they experienced comfort and pleasure. t4t can decenter cis people, desires, and pleasure within sexual relations. The goal, though, is not necessarily for everyone to turn to t4t. As Carmen’s story shows, experiences of respect, comfort, euphoria, and pleasure do not have to be exclusive to t4t. But t4t can point us to understanding comfort and the things foundational to giving and experiencing pleasure such as care and communication. That is, care, connection, communication, joy, pleasure, and other things we often associate with a good life and with good modes of relating to others are often shaped and informed by comfort. Comfort, then, may often be foundational to experiencing joy, euphoria, and pleasure. And if pleasure is a measure of freedom (brown 2019), then comfort might be a mode of relation that gets us to that freedom. In turn, comfort can point us to another world—a better world—where we can live without fear and worry and where we can experience amazing pleasure and sex. Comfort may be an antidote to cisness, and comfort may be where many great pleasures reside. Let us turn to comfort more in our lives, in our research, and in studying sex and sexualities.
