Content Warning: Sexuality
Trigger Warning: Gender Dysphoria
This is going to be a difficult article for me to write. It is going to be even more difficult for others to read. Today I am writing about something all transwomen have to come to terms with in their lives, the penis we are born with. I hate discussing this thing. I hate that in order to get to where I can be comfortable with myself as a woman I have to consider my comfort level with it. I also hate how it becomes a defining attribute to which our femininity is measured by outsiders. Hell I just fucking hate it to be honest.
I was assigned male at birth. For those who can’t quite wrap our head around that sentence it means I was a woman born with a penis. I know gross. I spent the first 37+ odd years of my life basically being controlled, dominated in a way by my penis. To the point where I have considered getting it out of my life via a procedure called vaginoplasty, aka gender reassignment or gender confirmation surgery depending on who you ask and how old that person is. I grew up in a world where sex change was the normal language. Anyways that’s not important. For me I will use the different terms via their abbreviations interchangeably. Those are SRS; sex reassignment surgery; grs; gender reassignment surgery; sex change; the surgery and bottom surgery. I refuse to use the more recent term gender confirmation surgery. I refuse because I do not need bottom surgery to confirm my gender. Some might call it gender affirmation surgery I dislike that term also as it does not define my gender.
I want to get down and dirty with my penis. This is a content warning laden article for a reason. Not only do I want to get into intimate details regarding my past relationship with the genitals I bear but also how I have chosen to accept their existence while owning my femininity. Having a penis or lacking a vagina neither situation defines my gender. I am a woman plain and simple.
Obviously I first discovered the thing prior to memories forming into permanent residence in my brain thus my earliest memories of it are lost to the recesses of my brain. Thankfully so cuz the memories I am stuck with are jarring enough.
I am one of those rare transwomen who has extreme gender dysphoria regarding her junk but also appreciates the tranny’s out there who sport some girlbulge. If you have the balls to be a woman with a visible dick more power to you I tip my hat your direction ladies. I can’t myself. I don’t tuck but we’re getting ahead of ourselves now. First I wanna talk about the elephant in the room. Masturbation. I did it. I am not ashamed I did it but I wish I could have been given puberty blockers before it became a habit that much I will attest. Even today I am grateful the spironolactone does what it does in suppressing my libido sufficiently.
I remember it like it was yesterday. My first masturbatory experience had nothing to do with the penis. I was 11. I discovered I could facilitate pleasure by inserting various objects into my anus. I found this quite enjoyable. Although I hid my desires as a male-presenting individual in a conservative Christian home I was afraid if they thought I was gay they would destroy me as a person. The very fact I explored my sexuality several months before my genitals came into play reinforces my ability to function without them. In fact I function better as a person since they ceased functioning beyond their primary purpose of emptying urine from my bladder.
I was 12 the first time I discovered touching the thing for prolonged periods would result in an admittedly pleasurable experience. It was one I always felt shame and guilt for. At first it was because it was supposedly dirty. Then the shame was because as a Christian I believed it was a sin. Then once I began transitioning I felt shame as a woman enjoying herself in such a “manly” manner. Over the course of my life my libido and the associated penile gentile endeavors have caused me tremendous dysphoria. The shame has receded, replaced by acceptance that I was ruled by hormones and a society that values male ejaculations above female existence beyond a method of motivating and facilitating those ends. In other words much of my shame also came from objectifying women in my mind in order to obtain the necessary erection long enough to complete the task at hand.
Since I have stopped doing the deed I have found peace in my life. I discovered that I do not let it define my gender nor my sexuality. I am a transgender, biromantic, asexual, lesbian queer woman and nothing is going to change that. I do not need surgery of any kind. I am comfortable in my body with all it’s faults. Yes I consider having penis a fault. I would consider removing the testicles as some point should I line up all the different requirements needed to obtain that relief. However in the meantime I am going to be perfectly happy with who I am as a woman even though I am a woman with a penis. I don’t show it to anyone. I don’t play with it any more. I barely acknowledge it during urination which I do as feminine as I can. I just sort of live with it. It no longer functions as a genital which provides me with some comfort.
I have to live with the things I did in the service of that former master. As a slave to my base desires with tremendous confusion surrounding my sexual wants I spent a lot of time in anguish despite the so-called temporary pleasure it used to provide. The act was okay at times but it usually came during times of extreme duress or intense stress. I used it as stress release nothing more. Once I discovered it was a tool to that end I slowly came to terms with having one. Now I am happy, tremendously ecstatic it no longer works as it once did. Gone are the days of wet dreams. Gone are the morning erections that used to greet me with temptation. No longer do I excuse myself to find a quite place to fwap away for a few seconds. Today I walk proud and tall. I have a non functioning penis but I am still all woman.
Stephanie Bri 