gaylionboy said: Hey Cyd, I'm a gay bio-male and who's into and has had several opportunities to get with some hot transboys. But I always chicken out cuz I'm afraid I won't know what to do to make him feel amazing. Any pointers for a guy like me?
Hey! I talk to so many gay men who have this anxiety. I totally understand how intimidating it is as an adult to have sex in a new way or with a different group of people, but I think that cis guys over estimate how different hooking up with trans guys is from hooking up with cis guys though. I mean trans guy dick is different and a front hole is different than an ass but the basic mechanisms of licking, sucking and fucking is the same. Every single person you have sex with is going to have different things that feel amazing to them in bed, so asking, not just with trans guys, but with cis guys is the best way to be an amazing lover.
These are some things that for ME PERSONALLY don’t feel great, which in my experience are common things that cis guys who are newer to having sex with someone with a pussy do:
1. gentle laps at my pussy, my cock may not be that big but you can still suck it. Getting gently trepidatious head is not my favorite
2. The one finger jabbing fuck: this doesn’t feel good in your butt either so I don’t know why this is so common. I can do some fevered hand fucking but after some strong, steady and wavelike warmup, and generally not before there are three fingers in at least. Too poky! Speaking of which if I say more fingers/put the fist in - trust me. I can take it, I am not a delicate flower. Also remember the g spot and aim your fingers towards it.
3. Provide running commentary about how much my body is not like a woman’s. That my cunt doesn’t taste fishy or like I really look like a man except for down there. Not sexy.
Remember not all trans guys are the same. Some will not want to have sex vaginally only anally and some will only want to top, some love nipple play and some couldn’t even couldn’t tell you were touching their nipples with a blindfold on. You should just ask questions and acknowledge this is new to you without making it a ‘please do all the sexual and mental labor for me’ type of situation.
Even as a porn person I want people to understand that the best sex I have is not that smooth transitions, no communication stuff you see in porn. Its stop and starty, often kind of goofy, with a lot of dirty talk that has the second benefit of getting peoples reaction to something verbal before you try it physically. The first time I have sex with anyone it is ALWAYS a little bit awkward at some point, even after being a pro for 10 years, and that is ok. A genuine desire to please the other and the thoughtfulness to ask how really goes a long way in the bedroom and if the first time isn’t like a scene out of True Blood with rose petals falling from the ether, don’t sweat it!
Also I think cis guys who have the proclivity and the income should hire trans guy escorts for a low pressure ‘how too’ session, support the trans community financially and also learn how to be a better lover!
Those are my basic recommendations - what are other peoples?
White people: when a group asks you to come speak on social and racial justice issues and organizing, please ask if you can also put them in touch with an African American, or Latina, or… and be willing to give up your slot if need be.
Men, do the same with women.
Heterosexual people, do the same with LGBQ.
Cis, with trans*.
Christians, do the same with minority religions.
(We can keep filling in examples. I figure you get the idea.)
Regardless of the topic, community is served when we inquire: “Who else is speaking? Would you like an introduction to this transman/Hindu/Black activist/female tech guru…I know their work. They’re really great.”
Systems will not change if we do not do this part of the work.
This piece hit home. I’ve been on both sides of this. I’ve been invited to speak or give a quote while uncomfortably aware that I’m speaking in part to experiences that are not my own, sometimes to a roomful of people who may have those experiences.
I’ve also been the sex worker, or the trans person, sitting silent while someone else without those experiences talks about my life as though I’m not in the room with them.
(This is especially pronounced for racially charged discussions and trans issues, since there’s an assumption that all the “others” in the space will be visible as other.)[¹]
Always remember: The people you’re talking about may be in the room with you, even if you can’t visually identify them. They should have their experiences respected and reflected.
As a speaker or a source, always ask yourself: “Who is not in this room that should be?”
When I offer to pass on underrepresented leads for a group, organization, or journalist that has reached out to me, I do notice who appreciates it and jumps on it and who looks for another “relatable” speaker instead. I also notice the trainers and speakers that pass the mic or collaborate vs. those that are happy to be paid experts on someone else’s experiences.
If you’re a go-to source, trainer, or speaker and you don’t have a list of folks to bring in or refer to, start by looking on the edges of your bubble for up and coming voices. Keep expanding. And ask your colleagues who they know. You’ll meet great folks and learn a lot.
This is in no way meant to encourage those who are speaking out to shrink back. This is too important for any of us to shrink back. But if you find yourself in the position of talking about an experience or perspective that is not your own on a regular basis because of work you do, you’ll find that collaboration will enrich the work. It’s the right thing to do, and it’s the best thing to do.
There’s a piece of intersectional privilege that’s hard to talk about, and that’s the way that some of us have more internal (and cultural) permission to speak up and step up than others. We’ve had others look to us early on, or reinforce us when we shared an opinion, in a way that others didn’t.
What this means in practice is that even if you step back, sit down, and are silent, media may not reach out to voices that have been sidelined but will instead go hunting for more voices like yours. In practice, members of marginalized groups have been told so many times that they’re not enough that they often won’t put in to speak or to lead without a lot of encouragement, because they know they’ll probably be held to a higher standard of qualification.
This is where people can use their privilege for good. When you see someone who is ready to step up and lead, tell them so. Reflect their qualifications to them, because it matters, especially for those with a non-traditional life or career path. Encourage them. Signal boost them. Share your privilege by putting together a panel or a co-presentation and making sure they’re on it.
People who might not listen to them if you weren’t in the room, or who might not give them a chance if you weren’t on the ticket, will have their minds blown. People who might be unconsciously passed over will have a chance to shine.
Pass the mic. Hold the door open. And listen.
[¹] As a visibly-white person whose relatives aren’t, I know what I look like, and I know what that’s meant for me, and I know what not looking like me meant for other members of my family. I also know that discussions about race take a funny turn when everyone in the room is read as white. Aside from that, there is so much I don’t know, and won’t pretend to. This is why it’s crucial to pass the mic to those who can speak to different experiences of race.
We were grabbing a bite of lunch at a small cafe, in a mall, right across from a booth that sold jewelry and where ears could be pierced for a fee. A mother approaches with a little girl of six or seven years old. The little girl is clearly stating that she doesn’t want her ears pierced, that’s she’s afraid of how much it will hurt, that she doesn’t like earrings much in the first place. Her protests, her clear ‘no’ is simply not heard. The mother and two other women, who work the booth, begin chatting and trying to engage the little girl in picking out a pair of earrings. She has to wear a particular kind when the piercing is first done but she could pick out a fun pair for later.
"I don’t want my ears pierced."
"I don’t want any earrings."
The three adults glance at each other conspiratorially and now the pressure really begins. She will look so nice, all the other girls she knows wear earrings, the pain isn’t bad.
She, the child, sees what’s coming and starts crying. As the adults up the volume so does she, she’s crying and emitting a low wail at the same time. “I DON’T WANT MY EARS PIERCED.”
Her mother leans down and speaks to her, quietly but strongly, the only words we could hear were ‘… embarrassing me.’
We heard, then, two small screams, when the ears were pierced.
Little children learn early and often that ‘no doesn’t mean no.’
Little children learn early that no one will stand with them, even the two old men looking horrified at the events from the cafeteria.
Little girls learn early and often that their will is not their own.
No means no, yeah, right.
Most often, for kids and others without power, ”no means force.”
from "No Means Force" at Dave Hingsburger’s blog.
This is important. It doesn’t just apply to little girls and other children, though it often begins there.
For the marginalized, our “no’s” are discounted as frivolous protests, rebelliousness, or anger issues, or we don’t know what we’re talking about, or we don’t understand what’s happening.
When “no means force” we become afraid to say no.