Should Trans People Have to Disclose Their Birth Gender Before Sex?
In the UK, it's now illegal for transgendered people not to disclose their parts to a future sex partner before having sex with them. You can be sent to prison for it, and some people already have been.
It's now against the law to suck dick if you have a dick and you don't tell the dick you're sucking that you have a dick. Or if you used to have a dick. Or if you have a pussy when they think you have a dick. Or a pussy. Or something.
In the UK, you see, it's become illegal for trans people not to disclose. You can be sent to prison for it, and some people already have been. Late last week, the UK Court of Appeal made case law by rejecting the appeal of someone called McNally. McNally was born female but identifies as male in certain social settings. McNally's crime? To meet a girl online, date her—presenting himself to her as Scott—and give her oral sex. When the girl's mother discovered that McNally was born female, she told the police. McNally says his girlfriend consented to the sexual activity. British law disagreed.
Apparently, you don't consent to "someone fingering me," you consent to "someone with a dick fingering me" or "someone with a pussy fingering me." So maybe you could also prosecute a woman who had her womb removed? Or a woman whose breasts were removed? Or a man who was born intersex and has hidden ovaries? Or is circumcised? Or Andrew Wardle, who was born without a penis because his bladder formed outside his body? He was recently on British TV show This Morning explaining his dating struggles: "I was punched in the face once when I told a girl... I guess she was angry as she felt like I had lied but it's not something you can say right away." His story was reported with sympathy, and rightly so. But if Andrew finds it hard to tell potentially punching lovers, how should trans people feel? It seems you can lie about lots of stuff to people you're having sex with—age, marital status, even HIV status—and that's fine. But mislead people about the shape of your genitals and you're a criminal. Unless of course you're a regular dude lying about the size of your dick. That's totally cool.
Now, I like the odd one night-stand as much as the next girl. Not to mention the occasional orgy, nights out in sex clubs and casual sex with strangers in public. Threesomes with people I picked up at fetish nights. Giving strangers blowjobs in the park. Getting my tits felt on the bus home by randoms. I'm not a slut or anything like that—God no—I'm sexually liberated. Fancy a fuck? I do.
Oh yeah and I'm transgender. Know that. I was born male. Not a man. A baby. With a penis. A baby one. I didn't want it. I wanted a baby vagina. I was majorly unhappy as a child and actually felt like a nasty trick had been played on me—that deep down I was really a girly-whirly, made of sugar and spice and all things nice. Then I hit my teens and said, fuck you society, I am a girl! I made a few changes, got my hair done and my nails did and now I'm basically a super hot babe goddess in heat. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard—but do they know what milkshake they're licking their lips over? Because this goodness looks like strawberry and tastes like strawberry but it used to be banana. Know what I mean?
I've had my share of violence and death threats before so, these days, I generally tend to, um, let the pussy out of the bag before I, umm, let the pussy out of the bag. Plus I'm in a relationship now so I basically have all these sex restrictions. But let's talk about the issues affecting people like me. And people like you, who may well fuck people like me. Possibly me.
I accepted a ride once, from a guy who was part of a gang in my home town (not a cool gang like the Crips or anything). He dropped me off at a store. Some people saw and, obviously, this was the Biggest Thing That Ever Happened and the news spread like syphilis. Some of my family were so worried they stayed in bed for a week. I'd been "tricking" people again. Never mind that he didn't ask me if I was a man or a woman, or to specify if I had a vagina. What he had said was "D'you want a ride to the store?" and it turned out I did. But oh dear, he didn't know "the truth" about who I "really" was, i.e., who everyone else decided I was. The truth was that I was someone who wanted a ride. I moved out of town soon after.
Most people base all their stupid opinions about trans people on stuff like Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, so trans people are seen as fakers. Which is why when a woman is wearing lots of makeup and hair extensions, misogynistic pigs might humiliate her by saying she "looks like a tranny." Because 'trannies' always look awful and are awful and are made of lots of fake shit, right? Well, I'm not pretending to be anything. I'm me. This is my truth. Trans people generally just want to be themselves, you know, and most of us are actually quite boring and you probably sat next to us on the bus this morning or something and didn't even realize because we're just so fucking ordinary so please be nice to us and if you cut us, do we not bleed, etc. OK?
My Baby Shot Me Down
Bang, you're dead! Ha, not really, obviously, or you wouldn't be reading this. Guess who is dead though? Lots of trans people who didn't tell their lovers! Oftentimes the lovers knew all along, but claimed not to when their angry (and homophobic) families found out. You probably won't hear about these murders because journalists are too busy humiliating transgender people for the way we look and talk. Somehow, journalists never seem to use their precious freedom of speech to talk about real shit, you know, like murdered trans people. So watch Boys Don't Cry for a glimpse into the horror of being raped, beaten and murdered for daring to fall in love and enjoy sex.
I had a transgender friend who had to move cities because a family resented her sleeping with their beloved brother and suuuuuuuuper straight son, Tom. Never mind that Tom consented. They didn't want a "gay" in the family so of course she must have tricked him. Get out of town or get a beating, bitch. I've escaped beatings myself by not being home when a gang of angry men knocked on the door. Because I got in a car with someone. Again. What is it with rides? It that illegal now too? I don't even think I sucked his dick. I was wasted. I can't remember.
A few years back I was in the line at the store and there was a transgender woman ahead of me. She seemed to have something "wrong" with her as her neck was at an angle. A couple standing in front of me were giggling and questioning, aloud, if "that freak over there is a man or a woman". I later found out that "freak" was called Kelly. She became permanently disabled after she was kicked down the stairs at a house party when the guys she was dancing with discovered who she "really" was. Because how dare transgender people think they can go to parties and dance, right?
Fear and Loathing
So trans people are worried about telling, not telling, prison, and murder. What should we do? Live on a leper colony where there's no chance of lovely normal people getting accidently tricked into thinking we're hot? Or just kill ourselves? You'll be pleased to know we already are—check out the outrageously high trans suicide rate, something else you won't be reading about on MailOnline.
I'm probably the worst person to try and blow this stereotype apart, but being transgender isn't actually about sex. If I'd been born with female reproductive organs, I'd probably have about six kids by now, and we'd need a national phone-in to find out who the fathers are. But I don't represent all trans people. Some trans people don't even have sex. IKR? Some are gay, bi, straight, or polyamorous, and some are into weird stuff. We get off (or don't get off) the same as you beautiful non trans people do. Being trans is not—as the fucking shitty, shitty, shitting media would have you believe—about "tricking" people into sex.
Hooking Up With Strangers in Public
I like to have anonymous sex with people in public. I buy Cosmo every month hoping for a feature that explains, once and for all, how to do it for fearless transgender females. (Cosmo, sort it out. I'm in the fucking wilderness here. Literally.) Until Cosmo tells us all what's what, here's my advice. Tell people. Always. Tell. People. For fuck's sake, tell yourself before you masturbate. For your own safety, if nothing else. For clarity and openness. To ensure your lovers want you, all of you, and everything that entails, even your tail, or lack thereof. It's the right thing to do. Unless you are absolutely sure you can get away with it, like if you're out cruising late at night and some guy shoves his cock through the car window without so much as a "Hey, baby." If you think you can pull it off, pull it off. Gobble him and get out of there.
Keep Calm and Carry On
The Crying Game is a film, not a science documentary. No one's ever thrown up on me. Sometimes people freak out but those people are douchebags. Most of the time, it's no biggie. Your sex friend might even be turned on by your revelation. Good for them. Good for you. Good for orgasms.
Fuck, I just realized I've been rambling this whole time. I guess I should make a point. OK, if we have to cobble some meaning out of this I guess it's that: a) people shouldn't be sent to prison for not disclosing their trans status but b) they could be and so it's probably safest, at the moment, to disclose, even though c) it actually doesn't have to be a big deal because d) ultimately this is a moral issue and shouldn't be a legal matter and e) basically you can forget everything you just read and it's all good if you can successfully 'trick' people, although f) if you can't, and those man hands or tits or something else gives you away, you run the risk of getting run over or shot or any of the other horrible ways trans people have been murdered simply for being themselves and wanting to take part in that thing we call "life."
Also by Paris: