I’ve been thinking about sex. With men.
This isn’t something I’m sure I want to do – now or ever – but it’s something thathas been on my mind for a long time. And, as my transition had progressed and I’ve moved from being perceived as a man to being perceived as a woman, the idea has seemed less and less outlandish.
It’s kind of like being a vegetrarian.
See, I’ve been a vegetarian for over ten years. Not because of moral issues, but because I find meat unappetizing. But, recently, I’ve been thinking about how good some chicken would taste. There’s so much history around my being a vegetarian, that breaking my unblemished record of a meatless diet with some chicken is difficult to consider.
In the same way, I’ve exclusively thought about myself as attracted to women. For a long time, part of that was because I”d be perceived as gay if I expressed interest in men. Being gay – a male identity – was so far from how I wanted to think of myself that I couldn’t even consider it. Now, though, it’s not so black-and-white.
Admittedly, trans women being with men aren’t seen very positively by our society. But really seeing myself as a woman has made the idea of being with a man less terrifying.
Having some chicken won’t mean my years as a vegetarian, and won’t mean I can’t still be a vegetarian, if I decide that’s what I still am.
And I feel sort of embarrassed to find that I’m focusing so much on the parts, not the person. My having a penis doesn’t make me a man, and being with a man doesn’t make me anything other than a woman who has been with a man. It doesn’t make me any less of a lesbian unless I want it to.
The question I should be asking myself – and the one I’m trying to focus on – is whether or not this is something that I’d be happy about having done, afterward. Not about about what it will mean for my “identity.” Because no one gets to decide that except me.