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It’s uncommon for a columnist in any publication to write about navigating friendships, but I feel the need to talk about navigating male friendships as a transgender man. In doing so, I will highlight what is wrong with men these days — and what is not wrong — and I can pinpoint various areas where masculinity still remains toxic, and areas where it doesn’t.
When I first started transitioning to be a man I hated all cisgender men: they were the bane of my existence. I was conditioned to hate cis men because they historically were the ones who repressed trans people. I found though, that when I went on testosterone and started passing as a man all the time, that people suddenly expected me to be nice to cisgender men and to be friends with them.
As a trans man, let me dissect what it’s like to find the right guy friend. Let’s first take a look at all men. Let’s say, for instance, that 70% of men are transphobic to some degree. Suddenly, I am faced with only making friends with 30% of these remaining men. Out of these 30% of men, some will not have the same hobbies as me, share the same interests, share the same educational background, or be in the same age bracket as me. Only 5% of these men are similar to me in some way shape or form: they might like literature, they might be smart, they might have traveled to many countries, they might also have a twin, and they might be roughly the same age, or work in the same industry.
I have had many cis men as friends. But even among those woke, non-transphobic men, there are a few issues that arise. The first is that I have a difficult time talking about any surgeries with them or about my bottom dysphoria. In this same vein, it is difficult to talk to them about anything trans-related, because trans-related issues do not conform to cisgender culture. I’ve found that even the most well meaning, progressive men find talking about something like dysphoria awkward. Cisgender men are conditioned to make small talk about the NBA, poker, women, and football.
Perhaps I take issue with how all cisgender men are socialized, then. I’ve found that cisgender, straight men are conditioned to not talk about their emotions or have conversations about love or sex. As a former woman these types of conversations were very commonplace, either in the Yale women cross country’s locker room or in small group settings with female roommates.
It is hard to find a man who I can talk to about transphobia or bottom dysphoria. On that note, the best “male” friends I have in the current day are actually cisgender men who are secretly trans women. It’s shocking, at first, to learn that my close friend from college is secretly a trans woman. But then it’s enlightening, and it makes sense why they were so comfortable with me being trans to begin with. It’s sad, though, that the only “men” I feel the closest to are those who secretly don’t want to be men. It’s not sad in the sense that I don’t want them to transition —every bit of me wants them to transition — but it’s sad that I can’t get close to other cis men in the same way.
Most of the men I’ve talked about in this piece are straight, cis men, and I have neglected to speak about gay or queer cis men. In a previous piece for the Blade, I spoke of issues in gay men’s culture. I’ve found that there are many cisgender gay men who mean well for trans men, but that in another regard, a lot of cis gay men are socialized to cast social judgments and prioritize being skinny and fashionable instead of developing genuine friendships, especially when they are in their 20s and 30s. Instead, I’ve gravitated toward being friends with straight men mainly because I also harbor an attraction to women, and I do, admittedly, like to occasionally make raunchy and lewd jokes, and I feel less judged by straight men. Such a statement may come across as bold, but the truth is that I have very few gay male friends.
In any event, dissecting male friendships as a trans man is difficult and multifaceted, but worth it nonetheless. As a trans man, it’s fascinating to study other men, and in particular the ways in which they maintain, or don’t maintain, friendships. I am eternally perplexed by how some men make jokes and cut others out of friendship circles, but also happy that, at the end of the day, both straight and queer cisgender men can be accepting of someone like me.
It’s uncommon for a columnist in any publication to write about navigating friendships, but I feel the need to talk about navigating male friendships as a transgender man. In doing so, I will highlight what is wrong with men these days — and what is not wrong — and I can pinpoint various areas where masculinity still remains toxic, and areas where it doesn’t.
When I first started transitioning to be a man I hated all cisgender men: they were the bane of my existence. I was conditioned to hate cis men because they historically were the ones who repressed trans people. I found though, that when I went on testosterone and started passing as a man all the time, that people suddenly expected me to be nice to cisgender men and to be friends with them.
As a trans man, let me dissect what it’s like to find the right guy friend. Let’s first take a look at all men. Let’s say, for instance, that 70% of men are transphobic to some degree. Suddenly, I am faced with only making friends with 30% of these remaining men. Out of these 30% of men, some will not have the same hobbies as me, share the same interests, share the same educational background, or be in the same age bracket as me. Only 5% of these men are similar to me in some way shape or form: they might like literature, they might be smart, they might have traveled to many countries, they might also have a twin, and they might be roughly the same age, or work in the same industry.
I have had many cis men as friends. But even among those woke, non-transphobic men, there are a few issues that arise. The first is that I have a difficult time talking about any surgeries with them or about my bottom dysphoria. In this same vein, it is difficult to talk to them about anything trans-related, because trans-related issues do not conform to cisgender culture. I’ve found that even the most well meaning, progressive men find talking about something like dysphoria awkward. Cisgender men are conditioned to make small talk about the NBA, poker, women, and football.
Perhaps I take issue with how all cisgender men are socialized, then. I’ve found that cisgender, straight men are conditioned to not talk about their emotions or have conversations about love or sex. As a former woman these types of conversations were very commonplace, either in the Yale women cross country’s locker room or in small group settings with female roommates.
It is hard to find a man who I can talk to about transphobia or bottom dysphoria. On that note, the best “male” friends I have in the current day are actually cisgender men who are secretly trans women. It’s shocking, at first, to learn that my close friend from college is secretly a trans woman. But then it’s enlightening, and it makes sense why they were so comfortable with me being trans to begin with. It’s sad, though, that the only “men” I feel the closest to are those who secretly don’t want to be men. It’s not sad in the sense that I don’t want them to transition —every bit of me wants them to transition — but it’s sad that I can’t get close to other cis men in the same way.
Most of the men I’ve talked about in this piece are straight, cis men, and I have neglected to speak about gay or queer cis men. In a previous piece for the Blade, I spoke of issues in gay men’s culture. I’ve found that there are many cisgender gay men who mean well for trans men, but that in another regard, a lot of cis gay men are socialized to cast social judgments and prioritize being skinny and fashionable instead of developing genuine friendships, especially when they are in their 20s and 30s. Instead, I’ve gravitated toward being friends with straight men mainly because I also harbor an attraction to women, and I do, admittedly, like to occasionally make raunchy and lewd jokes, and I feel less judged by straight men. Such a statement may come across as bold, but the truth is that I have very few gay male friends.
In any event, dissecting male friendships as a trans man is difficult and multifaceted, but worth it nonetheless. As a trans man, it’s fascinating to study other men, and in particular the ways in which they maintain, or don’t maintain, friendships. I am eternally perplexed by how some men make jokes and cut others out of friendship circles, but also happy that, at the end of the day, both straight and queer cisgender men can be accepting of someone like me.
