No, You’re Not Transphobic for Not Wanting to Date a Trans Person
By: Alexander Cross
Tags: Dating, USA, Politics, LGBT, Transgender

No, You’re Not Transphobic for Not Wanting to Date a Trans Person

Photo by Denin Lawley on Unsplash

If you’ve become familiar with subjects of discourse regarding the transgender community within the last half-decade or so, I’m willing to bet that you’ve heard the phrase, “If you don’t want to date someone because they’re trans, you’re transphobic.” On the surface, it seems to be a positive and sound enough statement. But in reality, such a claim at best, distances would-be allies — and at worst, put trans lives at risk.

I’ll put this out there now: I myself am a transgender individual. And, I would not date a trans person either.

There may be transphobic reasoning behind not wishing to date trans people, but transphobia is not inherent in such a preference. For instance, there is a transphobic judgement behind “I’m not attracted to trans people,” which is, “I assume both that every person I have ever been attracted to is cisgender, and that every transgender person in existence is visibly trans.”

Behind a woman saying, “I wouldn’t date a trans man because I’m straight,” is the reduction of a trans man to his sex assigned at birth, and the refusal to acknowledge his gender identity and its compatibility with her sexual orientation. But if the transphobia in that sentence has nothing to do with the first six words, and everything to do with the last three, why is the focus of such discourse fixated on the former?

Attraction is involuntary. This has been a defining statement of the LGBT rights movement for many decades, and is something any sensibly-minded person can agree upon. However, dating is entirely voluntary, and is the one area in life where people can (and perhaps should) be as picky as they so choose to be when choosing a partner.

The process of deciding to join another person in an intimate relationship involves weighing many different factors outside of one’s sexual orientation.

For instance — I date only when I’m considering the long-term; absent of that consideration, casual and platonic relationships are all I have interest in. So, when I think about settling down with someone, I do think of eventually supporting my partner through pregnancy and childbirth, and I would look for women who see that being in their future too. That’s not to say I wouldn’t consider adoption, or would leave my partner if we found out she was unable to carry children. However, compatibility between mine and my partner’s first-choice preferences is paramount, and science has yet been able to provide trans women at large with that option.

I would also be looking for a partner where the risk of financial instability between the two of us is as low as possible; I know firsthand that transitioning is a costly process, so someone having known transition-related medical expenses to add on top of my own is a drawback for me.

Outside of such utilitarian approaches to dating, it simply would not be a healthy dynamic to involve myself in a relationship with another trans person. After coming out, I became estranged from much of my family, and have had to put in lots of effort trying to educate them, appealing to their different understandings of the world. Rebuilding and maintaining my relationship with my family has become very important to me, and is an indispensable part of what I strive to accomplish in life; I fail to think of any plausible event that would cause me to turn my back on the work I did to get to this point. I know, however, that if I were to enter into a relationship with another trans person, that would put otherwise avoidable strain onto and potentially unravel those fragile relationships.

Gender as a concept also varies widely among people who don’t consider themselves to be cisgender, and as a matter of preference, I would rather date someone who is ignorant of everything that comes along with one’s questioning of their gender identity, than someone who — in a different environment than my own — came to a separate conclusion which they also believe to be correct.

I’ve had to fight tooth and nail to make the nuances of my lived trans experience clear to those who insist that: I’m just a butch lesbian; wait no…butch lesbians are just projecting a fabricated image of masculinity to seduce other women; I’m definitely one of those ‘nicer dykes,’ as I had been seen to wear a skirt before…except that lesbians are just confused women who’ve experienced trauma at the hands of men…so really, in my heart of hearts, I’m a sweet straight girl after all.

Because of that, my combative nature would seek to debate them to death, and try not only to make them understand how I’ve developed my understanding of the world, but see to it that they agree with me. Would I lack the self-awareness needed to restrain myself? No, but that instinct would soon turn into feelings of bitter resentment, which neither of us would enjoy.

It is a toxic trait that I recognize in myself, and it would be unfair to that other person for me to knowingly expose them to one of the few situations I’ve identified where such destructive inclinations would be likely.

Ultimately — and perhaps most importantly — I would find myself incapable of providing my partner with the support necessary to cope with their dysphoria, without being all too confronted by my own. My reason for transitioning in the first place was to lessen my gender dysphoria, and such a relationship would only open up old wounds.

Whichever positives would come out of that situation would not be much else than the same kind of learning experience one earns by skating on ice too thin to support their weight; that is, knowing from then on to never approach such an environment again, unless they want to find themselves stuck up to their waist in freezing temperature water.

There are probably a thousand and one reasons why someone would choose not to date me, trans or not. There are another thousand and one reasons why I wouldn’t pursue a relationship with someone else, regardless of how they experience their gender. Being familiar with one’s own priorities and preferences, acknowledging one’s faults, and making decisions based on the perceived likelihood of staying in line with that knowledge is not anything-phobic.

You’ve likely already decided whether or not you agree with me in declaring such preferences transphobia-free. Whichever side you fall on, I trust that you have the safety of trans folk as a priority in your mind. If that is truly the case, I implore you to stop making the dating lives of transgender individuals a significant part of your activism.

In what world does it make sense to label someone a transphobe (deserved or not), and then use that label to pressure them into considering dating a trans person? Convincing transphobic people to enter into an intimate situation with a trans person does little else than put that trans life in danger.

The “gay/trans panic” defense, or the idea that one’s sexual and/or gender identity may be to blame for another’s violent crime, is a valid legal defense in the places where roughly 3 out of 5 LGBT Americans reside. It is unwise beyond measure to create the pressure of a societal narrative which, in practice, gaslights others into seeking out trans folk when they would not otherwise do so of their own volition.

Dismantling transphobia is meant to create opportunity for trans folk, and allow them to engage in a greater degree of self-determination without the threat of violence or inequity. However, pressuring the public into believing that they’re unable to express their disinterest in trans people doesn’t contribute toward more autonomy for trans people. Rather, it takes away from the autonomy of others — something that is not only antithetical to the ideals of trans activism, but may also prove to have disastrous consequences for the community.

After all, if someone does not want you for all of you, why would you seek to convince them otherwise, at the risk of their agreement being merely conventional? Can you honestly tell yourself that you would be able to know for certain that not to be the case?

The dating lives of complete strangers are nobody else’s business, least of all the dating lives of trans people, which are complicated enough as-is. Transphobia in the dating scene will subside once we are able to eliminate its root sources, and we should first spend our time focused on more constructive efforts to aid that process (the best starting point for anyone is taking part in judgment-free, vulnerable, human conversations!).

Immediately writing off the statement, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to date a trans person,” as transphobic and refusing to consider that person’s perspective does nothing to strengthen that person’s allyship, and only encourages them to shut themselves out from future conversations.

If our duty is to preserve the lives and livelihoods of sexual and gender minorities, we need to flip the script, and allow room for more nuance when we discuss ways to combat their oppression — even if we have to sacrifice an “affirming” image in the process.