When my date used my correct pronouns, I felt a sudden surge of happiness. He was a cisgender guy, and since most men had misgendered me on dating apps and in person, this gesture gave me a glimmer of hope. But telling my friend about it gave me the slap in the face I needed. 'Getting your pronouns right is the bare minimum, Dee,' she said, shaking her head. It was then that I realized how little my identity had been affirmed in my previous relationships with cis men, and how this simple act, which should be the bare minimum, felt monumental.
I had praised these men for being 'so inclusive,' put them on a pedestal, and showcased them to my friends and family. But in reality, many of them were just telling me what I wanted to hear and would misgender me behind my back for fear of coming across as 'gay.' I knew I deserved more than simply being called 'they' and 'partner,' but I didn't realize how much I had been missing until I met my trans boyfriend.
Discovering My Nonbinary Identity
I always knew I wasn't cisgender. As a child, I enjoyed both boys' and girls' toys, clothes, and activities. I would wrestle with my dad before going to dance class with my mum. I wore Disney princess dresses with Timberland hiking boots underneath. It was only during my teens that I started to feel pressure to appear more feminine, and I tried to be what I thought the 'perfect girl' was. I wore makeup, dresses, push-up bras, and copied all the latest trends. When that didn't work, I thought I must be the opposite – a trans man. I bound in secret, created private profiles as my 'boy self,' and even had a boy-name. But that didn't feel like me either.
It wasn't until my early twenties that I discovered the label 'nonbinary' – and that's when it all fell into place. Coming out as nonbinary felt like coming home to myself. I finally had a word to describe how I felt about my gender. I came to the realization that not everyone feels like a man or a woman; some feel like a mixture, or in-between. For me, nonbinary means being genderless and genderfull; I can pick and choose what elements of gender make me feel more 'me.'
It was a slow social transition, telling one group after the next, until I was finally out in all spaces, including to my family. Surprisingly, they already knew I was 'different.' I was prepared for confusion and tears, but I was met with acknowledgement. I realized I had waited all this time in anxiety when I was already accepted.
Navigating Pronouns and Sexuality
In my early twenties, I went by they/she pronouns – only because I knew most people wouldn't use 'they' for me, so it was a way to protect myself. But after being out for a year, I realized I was only using multiple pronouns for the benefit of others, and that they/them pronouns were actually the right fit. And if someone won't use my correct pronouns, I don't want them in my life.
Navigating my gender identity and sexuality has been intertwined. My queerness became more prevalent the more I delved into my gender. I no longer had to squeeze myself into a label; I could explore beyond those labels, and 'queer' felt like the right identity for me.
My First T4T Date
I met my boyfriend on a dating app in 2024. Conversation flowed easily, and we decided on a date. I wasn't seeking out non-cisgender folks; I didn't even realize he had the trans flag in his bio at first. Not only was this my first queer date, but my first t4t (trans for trans) date. I traveled over an hour to see him, and we kept it casual with a stroll around his local town.
Before we got intimate for the first time, we spoke in depth about our identities, what makes us euphoric and dysphoric, boundaries, and hard limits. I was slightly anxious – worried about doing things 'wrong' or not being good at pleasing someone with similar genitalia. I heard all the messages I had been told growing up about how sex 'should' look and feel.
But when we had sex for the first time, it felt like how sex is depicted in movies: dreamy, whimsical, and a little silly. It was magical, almost like the first time again. Suddenly, I realized I didn't want to be intimate or date a cis man again. This felt like whiplash because, until then, I had always described my sexuality as 'I find women and AFABs attractive, but don't think I could have a sexual relationship with one.' Perhaps this was my internalized homophobia speaking, but now I had finally dipped my toes into this new realm, and I didn't want to leave it.
The Freedom of Being Understood
Being intimate with my trans partner was a huge step toward my queer acceptance and my gender. Gone were worries that a cisgender male partner would misgender me in the bedroom or in the relationship. My trans boyfriend made me feel safe to be my full trans self and to explore things I might have avoided because of dysphoria. He made me feel safe to ask questions about giving head and where to touch. I had gone from being misgendered in the bedroom to being celebrated. I was no longer the teacher, having to explain why I didn't want my chest touched or why calling me 'girl' was inappropriate.
Since being with my boyfriend, I am now able to be truly present in the moment, knowing my partner understands my dysphoria with personal understanding as a fellow trans person. I still had to flag my dysphoria, but I didn't need to explain it. It took such a weight off my shoulders that I could simply enjoy the moment and not enter 'teacher' mode.
After we were intimate, we spoke for hours about what we enjoyed, what we would like to try next time, and how sex relates to us as queer and trans people. It was a conversation I cherish; all my anxieties about being bad in bed with another AFAB person or not being queer enough vanished.
My only regret is not meeting my trans boyfriend earlier. It would have saved me a lot of time soul-searching and beating myself up for not feeling queer enough. It would have also saved me a lot of time praising cis men for bare minimum trans allyship.
Now, every intimate movement encompasses our transness, whether it's a 'no-chest' day, a day I feel most comfortable being intimate with a binder on, or the non-sexual intimacy like cuddling on the sofa and dancing in the kitchen. My identity isn't the only thing about me, but being in a t4t relationship opened my eyes to the reality of being truly accepted for who I am. Using my correct pronouns is the bare minimum. As queer, trans people, we deserve to be loved fully, and for me, I will never go back to cis men.
