She's the kind of butch any femme would
want: kind and thoughtful, mature and funny,
politically aware and playful, handsome and
great in bed. You've been soaring on cloud nine
since the two of you got together.
There's just one little problem that
threatens to bring the whole wonderful
lovership to a crashing halt.
She says that despite her female body, she's
actually a man. And she -- or should it be "he"?
-- intends to live as one.
Dyed-in-the-wool, activist, out, proud
lesbian feminist that I am, I've always
understood that the social myths that lesbians
just want to be men or actually want male lovers
but can't catch any are exactly that: myths.
Confronted by my new lesbian love's assertion
that she was a female-to-male transsexual, I was
therefore more than a little confounded. No
lesbian I'd ever heard of had gone down this
road before, and, I finally decided, I was not
going to be first. Tearfully, I gave my new love
an ultimatum: she could either have me or live
as a man, but not both.
For nine mostly-silent years I thought
Marcelle and I were the world's only lesbian
feminist couple hiding one partner's transsexual
feelings. When I finally decided I could no
longer in good conscience block Marcelle's
transition from female to male, one of the tasks
I most dreaded was having to tell everyone who
knew us as lesbians the truth: this particular
lesbian was, in fact, a man, and her -- his --
lesbian lover was going to stay with him.
I expected rejection. I expected incredulity.
I expected anger. I expected curiosity. What I
did not expect was what I found. Out of the
first 30 or so coupled lesbian friends we talked
to, threeadmitted that one of the partners felt
she was also a female-to-male transsexual (FTM).
A fourth lesbian friend said she had struggled
with the question for many years before deciding
to keep her female body and role. During the
whole nine years Marcelle and I had grappled in
isolation with that invisible elephant in the
living room, other lesbians we knew and
socialized with were cohabitating with the same
beast!
Like the early feminists shocked into
politicization as a result of sharing their
personal lives in consciousness-raising groups,
my discovery of the hidden undercurrent of
transsexual feelings in the lesbian community
radicalized me. In part to atone for the pain
I'd caused Marcelle with my ultimatum, in part
to continue Marcelle's and my long-lived
advocacy for our society's "queers," and in part
to ensure no other lesbian has to cope as I did
with a potentially transsexual partner in
ignorance and isolation, I've since made it a
point to publicly discuss FTMs in the lesbian
community.
Luckily, other partners -- lesbian, bisexual,
and straight, male as well as female -- have
been active, too. In the three short years since
Marcelle and I came out publicly about his
transsexuality, lots has happened: Five national
conferences devoted to female-to-male
transsexuals which attracted some partners have
taken place; an e-mail list for partners of FTMs
has flourished; Minnie Bruce Pratt's book S/he
about her transgendered lover Leslie Feinberg
was published; a 10-page list of resources for
"significant others" (SOs) of FTMs was compiled;
families that include an FTM and his lesbian
lover were included in nationally-distributed
photographic displays and magazine articles; and
countless partners have met each other at
FTM-oriented groups...to name but a few of the
developments.
But the mushrooming of support and
information networks for the lovers of FTMs has
not meant the road has been made smooth. The
struggles are still myriad, and many
relationships do not survive "transition" (the
period during which a person changes from living
as a woman to living as a man). Yet having other
partners to talk to means having someone with
whom one can ask questions, compare notes, and
vent. It's also allowed us to start identifying
patterns among partners' struggles. These
patterns seem to hold regardless of the
partner's gender and sexual orientation
identity. Nevertheless, lesbian-identified
partners' identity issues differ some from
heterosexual women's identity issues, to take
but one example. This article therefore focuses
particularly on the ways lesbian-identified SOs
approach the dilemmas.
You think you're a what?
Asked how she felt upon learning that her
female lover believes hirself(1) to be
transgendered, one woman answered: "Numb,
unsure, afraid, happy for my partner, scared,
threatened, wanting to help my partner, needing
help for myself, depressed, restless, anxious,
[and] happy that my partner is finally
able to express their true feelings." Although
most partners probably wouldn't be able to
articulate quite this extensive a range of
feelings upon being told of their lover's
transsexuality, it does seem that contradictory
feelings are common: "My first thought was that
I would have to leave. That thought made me very
sad after all we have built up over the years. I
hate to see that go down the drain. In fact, I
felt angry that I had to walk away. Why should
I? No one has ever loved me the way my partner
does. How could I settle for less? Why should
I?" Another woman said, "I really don't think I
can or want to stay. Some of the time. At other
times the alternative seems much worse...I feel
like I would be letting go of a really important
relationship for a 'little' thing like gender,
or a pronoun." A third acknowledged her doubts
but concluded, "I really want to see my lover
more at peace with himself on a daily basis. He
just seems so tortured now."
With time, these initial gut-level, emotional
reactions start getting refined and begin to
take shape as questions about identity. Although
these questions are all interrelated, they can
be roughly grouped into three categories: What
does this (transsexuality) make hir? What does
it make me? And, what does it make us?
So, what does this mean about who you
are?
FTMs often say that they've always been male;
they're just making some physical and/or social
adjustments so that other people recognize that
fact. That's not how a lot of lesbian partners
see the process. Although many always saw and
often much appreciated their lover's butchness,
they say what they prize is masculinity wrapped
in a woman's body; masculinity as displayed by a
man often feels totally different. One woman
commented about a photograph in Loren Cameron's
seminal FTM book, Body Alchemy: Transsexual
Portraits (Cleis Press, 1996), showing Loren
with his butch lover: "The picture of Kayt and
Loren arm-wrestling struck me because the line
where their hands met is the line of my desire.
Kayt is totally my type. Transgendered,
male-identified in a woman's body." Another
responded to a discussion about the sexiness of
butches: "I know what you mean about the
attractiveness of that look in a woman that
says, 'Don't fuck with me,' but the same look in
a guy feels threatening and dangerous because
society has ingrained that in us through years
of oppression and violence towards women.
Thinking of my lover as a 'man' reminds me of
the mean men in my past." Some know why this
memory of past mean men is an extremely scary
proposition: "I am also a survivor of sexual
abuse, mostly at the hands of men, and I am
afraid of how my partner's transitioning might
trigger me." Others can't articulate the source
of their fear, but know that it's there: "I just
get nervous thinking about being in bed with a
man."
Lesbian-identified partners also worry that a
transitioning spouse may turn into Bubba, or
expect her to become June Cleaver. "I love him
dearly, but if he starts wondering aloud if I
shouldn't iron his underpants, then we are gonna
have problems." On a more serious note, another
woman said, "I've had to deal with the idea that
as my SO becomes a man, his power increases. To
me, men are closer than women to power,
power-grabbing behavior, yelling, and physical
violence." Although these women feel they know
their partners' values and goals, they worry
that hormones will change him ("the cold voice
of fear is still whispering in the back of my
head: 'He's only saying that because he's not on
testosterone yet! Wait til the hormones kick in
and he loses his mind!'"), or that experiencing
male privilege will make the FTM forget or
abandon the feminist principles by which he
formerly lived.
So, what does that make me?
Lesbian-identified partners also worry about
how their own identity might change. It's easy
to define yourself as a lesbian when everyone
can see that your partner is a woman. When your
partner is a man, however, even a strongly-held
sexual orientation identity of "lesbian" may
seem less defensible. One woman said, "I'm very
dyke identified. The possibility that he might
transition and 'become male' scares me because I
feel like my identity hangs in the balance." A
self-described femme echoed that feeling. "I'm
really wary of giving up my identity for someone
else. That seems like such a stereotypical femme
thing to do -- 'it's o.k., honey, your identity
is more important than mine.'" On the other
hand, insisting on a lesbian identity when one
has an FTM lover may feel like an undermining of
his right to self-define: "I can't in good
conscience call myself a lesbian and validate
his gender identity when he isn't identifying as
a woman," one woman explained.
Some lesbians don't find the prospect of
losing their lesbian credentials all that
daunting. "Where I'm from, it's been hard to
find a part of the lesbian community that fit my
fat Latina hi femme meat eating kinky sex self.
Therefore, I don't have much to lose." Another
who has had bad experiences with judgmental
lesbian peers said, "I can't stomach those
womyny-womyny lesbian types who are so quick to
judge. I think bisexual people are the most
welcoming component of the GLBT community to
transpeople: they 'get it' (on trans issues, on
inclusion, on my identity being flexible) more
than the monosexual folks do."
So, what would that make us?
Nevertheless, potential loss of the lesbian
community is a big deal to many of the partners
of individuals contemplating transition. "Many
in our respective lesbian communities may feel
that once-lesbian identified transfolk and those
of us lesbeens who love them are 'defectors,'"
suggested one woman. Another partner who was
further along in the process confirmed this
happens. "The 'wimmin's' community suddenly
assumes that since we 'appear' hetero, we will
just fit right in with all those other hetero
couples who have done absolutely no gender
analysis, etc., etc.." Yet, she says of herself
and her partner, "the truth is, we want to be in
the dyke community. That is where we both feel
we belong." FTM partners also may feel keenly
the loss of the lesbian community. One woman
reported how "painful" it was for her to attend
an FTM conference and "hear guys post-transition
talking about loss of community, looking for a
less 'straight' identity, missing lesbian space
even if that hadn't been quite right for them
before. It made me wonder where and how we will
find community."
Some women admit they helped create the
community norms they now feel exclude them. "The
problem is that I like to go to lezzie clubs and
lezzie events. We like to do these things
together. I would still go with friends to do
the lezzie things I want to do if it came to
that, but I want to do things like go dancing
with my lover and not have to go to a straight
club. The other piece to this is that I am part
of the problem! When I was out dancing Friday
night, there were a few couples I perceived as
'straight' and also some boys there. Who knows
what paths their lives have taken, but I found
myself being irritated by their presence."
Another accepted her exclusion on the same
basis: "Part of the difficulty in being with an
FTM, at least for me, is that it changes my
identity from lesbian to a FTM's SO. So if the
event is for lesbians only, I don't go. I don't
think any less of the lesbian community because
of that. I worked for many years to create a
space for lesbians to feel safe and free to
express themselves."
Lesbian-identified partners also worry a lot
about what they'll look like to outsiders if
their partner becomes male. As one woman put it:
"Everyone will see me as straight. Damn." Femmes
who have long struggled with misperceptions of
heterosexuality seem to be especially fearful of
what transition will bring. One said, "I guess
that being perceived as a heterosexual couple is
really going to be a blow for me because
perceptually I will fall into the 'heterosexual
stereotype' in other people's eyes, which is
what I fought to get away from in the first
place. What I'm trying to say is I'm going to
look like a 'wife' and no one will know any
better. I guess my insides would be screaming,
'I am not what you see!'" Another could foresee
a less threatening but still irritating future:
"So, okay, the whole world may perceive me as a
straight woman married to (or at least living
with) a straight man. This perception will carry
with it a trainload of gender stereotypes and
expectations, which will no doubt piss me off
royally on some days and just make me laugh up
my sleeve on others."
Coping with transition
Resolving these identity and community
worries and dilemmas takes time, a luxury many
partners are shocked to find they don't have.
Like coming out as gay, coming to terms with
being transsexual is often a long process that
goes on internally for months, years, or even
decades before the person finally starts telling
others. Once a person reaches the stage of
coming out publicly, zhe's often ready or even
anxious to begin acting on the newly-embraced
identity. That means that many
lesbian-identified partners of newly-proclaimed
FTMs find their partners racing toward
transition with almost break-neck speed. Even
when things go a little more slowly, each step
the transsexual partner takes toward his true
identity represents a step away from the lesbian
partner's preferred identity. "While he's
celebrating," one woman summarized, "you may be
crying and grieving over a loss."
It's also hard to pay attention to your own
personal and relationship issues when your
partner is going through a life event as
all-consuming as changing from a female gender
role to a male gender role. "Transition is the
central issue in our relationship," one woman
stated. "His struggle with gender is so
consuming to both of us that my issues in the
world kind of get lost. I spend an enormous
amount of time focusing on him and his choices.
I really need to think more about what it is
that I want and what choices I need to make."
Many partners struggle to balance their desire
to be a loving partner who understands and meets
the transitioning partner's heightened need for
support and solace and their own need to grieve
and process the losses and doubts they are
themselves feeling. Finding and keeping this
balance is a frequent topic of discussion among
FTM SOs.
Sex and drugs
Vastly complicating the emotional and
practical issues lesbian-identified partners
struggle with as their partners embark on
transitioning is what's called "The Big T" --
testosterone. Getting a prescription for
testosterone is often the first exciting,
concrete step a new FTM takes. But starting sex
hormones means going through another adolescence
as the body and brain adjust to a sudden rush of
powerful, body-altering chemicals. Read that:
mood changes. One harried partner said, "It's
like menopause and puberty all at once
sometimes."
Also read that: increased sex drive. For some
female partners, this is a highly problematic
development: "I think the T has made him a sex
crazied uncaring ass. He seems to think only of
himself. I feel like a whore at times," one
angry lover said. Others are delighted: "I love
having sex with him. Sex in transition is fun
for me. I love when he gets in bed and says,
'look at my body.' He is happy about the
changes. We have more fun in bed because he can
really be there in his body in bed with me."
Some couples find transition triggers body
image and desirability doubts. The FTM may be
concerned about how attractive his lover will
find his masculinized body, and the female
partner may worry, perhaps unconsciously, that
since the FTM has "rejected" his female body, he
must not be very attracted to her femaleness,
either. Indeed, some FTMs do have problems with
their female body parts. A few women, for
instance, report that their partners do not
allow vaginal penetration: "It repulses him to
be touched sexually in a way that reminds him of
his feminine body parts," said one. A few FTMs
also begin to define certain sex acts as
"lesbian" and refuse to participate in them any
longer. Interestingly, exactly which acts are so
labeled differs from FTM to FTM. One partner
reported that several transsexual men she heard
speak admitted they don't like to use dildos
because they remind them of "what they don't
have," while another woman said she'd found that
"some FTMs feel using their hands is too lesbian
coded, as are certain aspects of oral sex." Yet
having a sense of humor and being willing to
find new terms for body parts helps, one woman
responded. "Cognitive dissonance week (his term
for that time of the month when he has to use
'masculine protection'(2)) is hard. We work
around where he is at, and sometimes the right
word makes the difference. We work around those
words which to him seem so female-coded,
especially in the heat of the moment."
Further complicating the sexual picture,
female partners may find that certain turn-ons
no longer work. One woman went to an FTM
conference worried about her sexual attraction
to men, and was not reassured. "I was looking at
the guys there and it seemed that when guys
transitioned, many lost/gave up the tough, hard
masculine edge that they had before. I'm not
sure I'd find that kind of masculinity appealing
or 'acceptable' in a man, but in butches it was
something that always carried sexual power for
me. There were some guys there I could find sort
of hot if pushed, but it doesn't bode too well
for me and my partner."
Being out in public
Transition is also problematic outside the
house, particularly during the period when an
FTM may be viewed as female in one situation,
male in another. "There are times when we long
for the anonymity of the straight society, like,
say, when we look for a bathroom," one partner
said. Couples also sometimes argue over who
controls the coming-out process, particularly if
the FTM wants to look like and be treated as a
"normal guy" and his lover highly values a more
transgressive persona. "I continually struggle
internally with the issue of disclosure," said
one woman. Yet she believes "it's my partner's
job/right/privilege to choose whom he discloses
to." Others find the dilemma more problematic:
"I really miss being a dyke. I find it is a lot
easier to casually come out as a dyke ('my
girlfriend took me to a movie...') than as an
FTM SO ('my boyfriend took me to a movie and by
the way he used to be a woman...'). I can't
figure out how to be 'out' without jeopardizing
his right to be out/not out when he wants to,
because he passes most of the time now."
When it ends
Many lesbian-identified partners -- even
those who expected to be supportive of their
lovers' transition -- end up discovering that
the whole process is just too much for them to
handle. One of the few studies of FTMs'
relationships found that approximately half of
the intimate relationships FTMs had established
with women pre-transition did not survive the
change.(3) Yet these break-ups are not always
because the lesbian-identified partner decides
she can't cope with having an FTM lover. Indeed,
many partners discover they actually have a
preference for FTMs. One said, "If my lover and
I ever break up (which I hope won't happen), I
can see myself attracted to other FTMs. Now that
I've been with my lover, my immense desire and
appreciation of transsexual men is strong."
Another woman whose partner "freaked out" and
left her for another woman just days after he
had surgery to remove his breasts said,
"Ironically, after he left, things became more
clear for me. I realized that it was very
unlikely that I would have left him because of
the transition. I've realized that I am
attracted to FTMs both pre- and post- hormones."
So many ex-partners of FTMs have decided they
prefer FTMs, in fact, that a new online support
group has been formed to help such women meet
single FTMs.
Of course, one doesn't need to decide one's
preference is FTMs to maintain a relationship
with one. What one does need to do is find at
least "good enough" answers to the three
identity dilemmas a transitioning partner
presents one with: Who does that make him? Who
does that make me? And who does that make us?
The answers, not surprisingly, differ for each
woman and each couple. But again, there are some
identifiable patterns.
Discovering what kind of man he is
One of the most helpful breakthroughs I had
in coming to terms with Marcelle's desire to
transition was the realization that when I
imagined Marcelle as a man, I no longer saw
Marcelle. What I saw instead was a generic man,
and not a very nice one at that. Whatever
qualities I knew my long-term lover had no
longer existed in this stereotypical man, as
though Marcelle's personality and values were
suddenly going to cede the premises to the ghost
of John Wayne.
Other women reach similar conclusions,
particularly as transition progresses and they
discover testosterone does not automatically
create monsters. Instead of their lover adopting
all the negative aspects of masculinity, many
are pleased to discover he's becoming a calmer
and happier version of the person they already
loved. "My lover will not BECOME anything
different than what and who she has been and he
is. I know there will be changes, but he will
never be a "MAN," he will just be [his
name], with a body he loves and struts
around in." Others remember or discover that
they have some power over what behavior gets
manifested around them: "As I am a radical
feminist, I have made it very clear what
attitudes I will NOT accept from my lover, nor
from our son." Still others come to realize that
the problem isn't gender (or, more accurately,
the masculine gender), it's plain old power and
control: "Anyone can have power and control
issues," pointed out one woman. "Keeping men out
of your life is no guarantee you can escape
that."
Finding your own name
Some lesbian-identified partners retain their
lesbian label despite being partnered with a
transsexual man. These women frequently explain
their stance by pointing out that if their
relationship broke up, they would only date
women, or by asserting that the source of a
person's identity springs from within, not from
hir lover's body.
More often, however, previously
lesbian-identified partners adopt a middle
ground that more comfortably accommodates a male
partner. Bisexual, queer, and femme are the most
popular self-identifications, reflecting a
desire to be seen as anything but straight.
Indeed, making a commitment not to fall into a
straight stereotype is often a part of this
identity resolution: "It's up to me to make
intelligent choices and make sure I don't become
Mrs. Cleaver!" one woman explained. Others
aren't so worried: "I think being queer is like
losing your virginity. Once you have left the
straight world, you can't go back." Sometimes
FTM partners also help in this effort to find
and stay on queer land. "[My partner]
adamantly maintains he is not a straight man --
he's in a relationship with a femme, not with a
straight woman."
Making your own community
Of course, identity is closely aligned with
community, and finding a comfortable community
post-transition is a challenge. Because it's
unlikely that a previously lesbian-identified
partner who is happy to blend into a
heterosexual world will blow her cover by
getting involved in an FTM SO support group, we
have no idea how many partners find happiness in
hetero land. Some, though, relish being the fox
in the hen house: "For me, being queer in a
straight world is a wonderful thing!"
Some women find an accepting community among
bisexuals: "The bisexual community is far more
understanding and much more open-minded than the
lesbian community." Others are lucky enough to
live where an integrated "queer" community
exists. Even then, however, some of these women
worry about the stability of the welcome mat on
which they stand: "I'm just glad I do so much
work in the queer community; hopefully no one
would dare kick me out entirely." Those blessed
with online access can find a vibrant FTM SO
community there.
But finding a community that fully embraces
both the FTM and his female lover is difficult,
and that loss of a place where both partners are
equally welcome can be a bitter pill to swallow.
"I still suffer from these occasional bouts of
fear and sadness about him not being a dyke
anymore," one woman admitted. Some couples
become determined to make the community they
want: "As far as finding space for ourselves, we
both do a lot of public speaking on the matter,
and I am convinced we just have to make space by
educating." Another answered, "How do you find
space together? You do what other groups (i.e.,
gay, lesbian, black, hispanic, feminist, etc.)
have done: you create it." And progress is being
made. The second-largest U.S. "FTM"
organization, American Boyz, actually bills
itself as an "FTM and soffa (significant others,
friends, family and allies) organization." It
has been growing exponentially in part because
it provides conferences and support groups where
partners are as welcome (and as liable to be
leaders) as their FTM lovers.
Moving Beyond
Becoming an FTM requires negotiating body
changes, role changes, and changes in how others
view you. The lesbian-identified partners of
FTMs endure the same changes. They must live
with the altering of a body they may have much
loved. They must cope with their lover's mood
swings and the other physical and emotional
changes testosterone brings. They must adjust to
the new ways people react to their partners, and
to the assumptions that are made about them now
that they appear straight. They must learn how
to defend their lesbian identity in a way they
never imagined, or abandon that identity and
find (or create) a new one.
For most FTMs, the exhausting and challenging
process of transition nevertheless represents
the culmination of a long-held dream or the
righting of a very old wrong. Lesbian partners,
by contrast, are generally happy with their
sense of themselves in the world pre-transition;
the adaptations they must make are not ones
that, left to their own devices, they would have
sought out. Yet these unexpected challenges can
bring rich rewards. One woman looked back on her
process and wrote:
"I want to affirm both the
hardships that can be oh so real and the joys
that can come from growing through the
changes together as my partner and I were
ultimately able to do. A year ago I could not
have said this. My heart felt torn apart. I
could not believe it would be possible to get
to the other side of the upheaval in our
lives. I could not fathom loving my lover in
a male form. Well it's been a long year. In
retrospect, a really rich year, full of
surprises. I feel so lucky to have a lover
who was willing to hang in and honor my
feelings even when they were on the other
side of the universe from his. I feel
incredibly impressed with myself both for
honoring my process and being able to honor
his. So much of the time it did not feel at
all like we were doing it together, but now I
see that we did and I am in awe. I know that
some partners need to leave their
relationship in order to take best care of
themselves. I am personally glad that I
stayed in mine. We have a great love and
that's a treasure I want to keep."
Others say that living through a partner's
transition from female to male has deepened
their cultural and political understandings and
commitments in ways they could have never
imagined. One said, "I have been a fairly
hardcore feminist for years, very
'anti-patriarchy' and all that good stuff, but
the more I learn about gay, lesbian, and
transgender relationships, the more I realize
that negative aspects in our culture's structure
of relationships are about power and dominance
rather than gender per se. I don't think I can
ever think about gender in the same way again.
Or love, for that matter." Another woman summed
it up beautifully: "I believe that our being out
here doing this soul-, mind- and heart-searching
work serves to bring another important dimension
of diversity to the lesbigaytrans world. After
all, isn't questioning and redefining our world
what growth and life is all about?"
1. Although FTMs are properly referred to by
masculine pronouns, pronouns present a problem
for those who are speaking of people who are
still in the early stages of exploring whether
or not they are FTM and those who have chosen to
occupy a middle, blended gender ground. Although
several genderless pronoun systems exist, none
has been adapted universally. For this article,
I've arbitrarily chosen to use "zhe" and "hir"
whenever a person seems not to identify with
either set of gendered pronouns and when I'm
talking about both males and females.
2. Regular testosterone use does stop menses,
but it may take several months before this
effect occurs. In addition, some FTMs decide to
transition without the use of testosterone.
3. Holly Devor, 
FTM:
Female-to-Male Transsexuals in Society,
Indiana University Press, 1997, p. 363.
