Anal Sex 101, or “No, you can’t fuck me without lube, you Asshole!”

You ever see a dude try to mash buttons on a controller to create a combo in a fighting game? Yeah, well some of them apply that same technique to anal. Guess what? If you fuck like that, you aren’t gonna hadouken. Your partner will just shoryuken you into a fucking wall.

Welcome to the second part of Anal Sex 101, otherwise known as “STOP TRYING TO DRY FUCK ME CHAD”.

Chad: What? But like, you just stick it in, right?

No. No you do not. That’s the opposite of what you do. We went over this both times we tried to fuck and the last time you tried to use spit. SPIT.

Chad: Well, you said to use lube, so…

LUBE IS NOT SPIT. Okay. Sit the fuck down. I’m gonna teach you a thing if it fucking kills me.

Hi, hello, and welcome to my class. Chad, put your fucking hand down, I swear to god I will end you. Thank you.

This class is going to be the second half to the article I last posted, this time on the sex act that I am most intimately familiar with–anal sex! Now, these tips are not just for transwomen, but for anyone that wants to explore having sex in this way, though I will admit my experience with anal mainly comes from cis men.

Chad: Ch’yeah it does. Up top!

…I am going to take a deep breath, and when I open my eyes, he’ll be gone, right?

Chad: Still here teach! See what I did there–Teach is kinda kinky, isn’t it?

Please. Just stop. God.

Moving on, anal sex is one of the most intimate acts you can do with a partner of any gender. This is partially owed to it not being standard sex for many people–though it is generally the norm for me and any other transwoman interested in bottoming or topping, for many people it’s almost subversive, though I think attitudes towards it are less damning now than in the past.

While it may seem simple enough to just, you know, use the back hole instead of another one, anal sex is a bit more complicated than vaginal or oral sex. It requires far more prep to do the act, though doing it well takes about the same amount of effort in some ways.

However, there is one thing that is key to anal–one thing that you can absolutely not do it without. And what is that, you ask? It’s not a giant dick or you know, just having an ass. What is the one ingredient that, once your partner agrees to anal, will be the difference between ecstasy and ten minutes of trying to shove your master sword into a too-tight sheath?

Say it with me. L-U-B-R-I-C-A-T-I-O-N. LUBE. LUBRICANT.

There’s no anal sex without lubrication. I don’t care how long you’ve been doing it for, you absolutely have to have lube. This is true for everyone, not just transwomen. Without lubrication, anal sex feels kinda like you’ve cut open a wound in someone’s back and are trying to fuck it with a cucumber–it isn’t fun, there will be bleeding, and there’s risk of tearing. Nothing good.

There is also the matter of making sure you use -enough- lube, and the right kind. Let’s take a brief overview of the types. Generally, there are two types of lubrication.

  1. Silicone-based
  2. Water-based


There are also oil-based lubricants, but those will degrade and break down condoms if you use them, and since most people are likely to use condoms when doing anal, especially early on in a relationship, we’re not going to discuss them. Also, I’ve never use oil-based lubricant. Why? Again, they degrade condoms.

Silicone based lubes are silicone, meaning they won’t be absorbed by the body nearly as quickly as water-based lubes. Water-based lubes, on the other hand, are absorbed more quickly. Though both can be used for all types of sex, some people avoid silicone based lubes for vaginal sex because of the absorption factor–many consider water based lubes to be safer.

HOWEVER–the booty is not a vagina, and many vaginas produce their own lubricant (not all—this can lessen as women age, and that is absolutely fine damn it so fuck off) to make sex easier. The booty does not. And since it can be prone to tearing, and anal sex requires time and work up, it is generally best to stick to silicone for anal sex. Water-based lube will be absorbed too quickly, and, again, will lead to tearing.

No one wants tearing. I’m a huge masochist and I absolutely do not want it. That’s too much information but whatever, it’s staying in here.

Chad: What’s a masochist?

Anyone that would willingly date you, Chad.

Chad: So it means awesome. Sch’yeah, right on!

Are you just fucking stuck in the 90s, or…you know what, I don’t want the answer to that.

Most lubricants will tell you whether they are silicone or water based on the front of the packaging. Be careful, as even anal-specific lubes can be either or, and you don’t want to make a mistake here. Trust me.

So now that you have lube, what’s the next step in this wonderful, magical journey to explore the backside? Prep work.

Anal is not an instantaneous thing for a lot of people. Even with lube it can start out being kind of painful, especially if you fucking try to shove something in there without trying to loosen up the muscles there first. We’re easing into this people, not fucking doing demolition. You’re gonna need to assess the walls before you can tear them down, if you catch my drift.

How you do this is largely up to you. Generally, people will use fingers to relax into anal penetration–this can be done by the person on the bottom (i.e., the receiving partner) or by the one on the top. Many people consider this to be an extremely intimate act–and they fucking should, you have your fingers knuckle deep in someone, treat them with some goddamn respect. If you are uncomfortable with the idea of having your fingers in someone, perhaps you should consider that you shouldn’t be shoving your dick in their ass. Looking at you, Chad.

In practice, this is like any other kind of foreplay. Your goal is to massage the ring of muscle to help with ease. Over time, this will get easier–just make sure to use plenty of lube and go slowly, especially your first time. This needn’t be done with a partner either; you can easily practice this yourself in your own experimentation.

If you have real difficulty doing this with fingers alone, and you are committed to having this kind of sex, you can also get anal training kits both online and in sex shops. These are typically a set of three butt plugs in increasing size that will allow you to ease into the feel and stretch of having anal sex. Obviously, though, you’ll still want to start small.

Now, for the main event. Light some candles. Throw some rose petals on your bed. Put on some lingerie.

Chad: Get on the train to Bonetown, USA!

…or if you’re me, call up some fuckboy from Tinder and throw your legs in the air. God, I hate you, Chad.

After you’ve done the prep, ease into penetration. If you are the penetrating partner, whether you are using your own genitalia, a dildo, or a strap on, be gentle and patient. Your partner will probably need some time to adjust. If you go straight to bang town they’re likely going to be in a lot of pain and will kick you out of bed with all the strength they can summon. No, I am not speaking from experience. No, really, I’m not. I’m–just shut up, alright?

And listen. I do not care how proud you are of your gigantic dick; if you’re well-endowed, this will be HARD for your partner. The larger you are, the more time it will take to adjust, and the more patient you may have to be. They may also not be able to get it in the first time–if they can’t, you need to treat it as being okay, and if they want to do so, continue to do some prep work, or ease them into it slowly over a period of time. Rome wasn’t built in a day, no matter how much buttfucking they did.

Overall, at this stage it is important to remember what I said in the last post–listen to your partner. If there is something you or they don’t like, if they’re uncomfortable, put on the red light and fucking STOP. You will both be better for it in the long run, no matter how much they complain about their blue balls.

Chad: Well, it’s really uncomfortable to have–

Chad, look at me. Look deep into these baby brown eyes. What do you see there?

Chad: I see…darkness. The eternal void. The end. The silence of eternity, oh god.

Yes, excellent. That is what awaits you if you finish this sentence. People. Listen. To. Your. Fucking. Partners. Do not try to coerce them into acts that they can’t or won’t do. Doing that is manipulative, creepy, and cruel.

Chad: So if I stop bugging you you’ll eventually let me tap that ass again?

…jesus fucking christ if the cops wouldn’t put me in a male prison or shoot me on sight.

Chad: What?

Sigh. Don’t be a Chad, people. Ease your way into anal sex, use plenty of lube, and above all else–listen to the people you’re mashing uglies with. If you do, you’ll be sure to succeed. Have fun doing butt stuff!


Special thanks to our newest Patreon Supporter–Amy R.! Also, a resounding thank you to Dillon P., who edited this and other articles! We love her.

A brief news note: The update schedule will be changing to once weekly for a number of reasons, ranging from my own sanity, to editing a novel manuscript. Updates will be on Wednesdays!


Fucking Transwomen! Part 1!

Hi, you! Yes, you. Sit down. We’re going to have a conversation. About what you ask?

Having sex with a transwoman.

WOAH WOAH WOAH–you cis people, don’t get up. Seriously, this is important. Just relax. Chill. Get a snack. Some wine if you have it. I won’t judge if it’s boxed, believe me. I am far too deep in my own shit to judge some 3 buck Chuck.

You calm now? You sure? Good. Then let me drop some information on you.

Transwomen are women. That much should be obvious, but it seems to need to be repeated every five seconds. Like all women, transwomen enjoy sex in a wide range of experiences, and also like -all- women, the ways we enjoy sex are unique to each individual.

Individual. Please repeat that in your head. ~I N D I V I D U A L~. Meaning what one transwoman enjoys may be different from another. Some may enjoy using the genitals they were born with to penetrate others. Others may not. Some may like you to touch their genitals, others may not. Some may want to be penetrated, others may not. Like everyone on the planet, each of us has preferences, and these are only the basics–we can have just as many kinks as anyone else.

If you ever plan to sleep with one of us, I am going to ask you to practice something extremely difficult. Nearly impossible. Excruciating in fact.

Ask. Your. Partner. What. They. Like.

Wow. Such difficulty. Very extreme. Talking? To your partner? In THIS economy? Egads.

Joking aside, this is something you should practice with all your partners, cis, binary, non-binary, or anything in between. However, it is doubly important with transpeople, who may be unsure of their bodies with a new partner because of cultural stigma against us. They may not be comfortable bringing up their own needs because of this. However, focusing on your partner’s wants and desires, as well as opening up about your own, will make the experience more comfortable, and overall make it more enjoyable.

Basically, treat us as humans with wants and needs of our own, and not walking fetish dolls to get your rocks off on. Yes, Chad–I mean you in particular. You think anyone would enjoy that you use your dick as a hammer? You’re a frat bro, not Thor. Chill. And invest in better lube. You’re tapping the booty, not jackhammering through cement.

However, I know that there is more that goes into it-and that there aren’t a lot of resources for this sort of thing. There is a book called “FTW: Fucking Trans Women” that is a great resource for it, and I will link it at the bottom of this post. That said, I do feel that I can add my own knowledge to things, which is why this will be a series–what will be the next one, you ask?

Anal Sex 101 or “No you can’t fuck me without lube you asshole”. It’s a working title.

Anyway, thank you for reading this article, and remember to have fun! Consensual fun!

…except you, Chad. Fuck off.



Special thank you to our newest Patreon supporter, J!

FTW: Fucking Trans Women: -this link will be added when I’m not scheduling this post to go up while at work-

Keep the Lights On–In Loving Memory of John

“Keep the Lights on.”–Jacob Mandell, Occam’s Razor


This is not the article I expected to be the first of the year, and is something that I wish I didn’t have a reason to post.

I went to bed early last night–around 6 o’clock, like the grandma I am. I woke up around 2 to a message from my friend, Katie, telling me that our friend John had passed away last night.

There is a certain element of selfishness that comes with being trans, especially a trans person of color. That selfishness is usually based in survival, in trying to keep yourself safe from the outside world that wants to harm you. It means you build up defensive walls, physically and emotionally, from the people around you, because you know that one mistake could lead to your death.

What that selfishness hides for us, or at least for me, is thinking about the mortality of those around us: our allies and friends. The people who try to help us survive this bullshit world and the cards we’ve been dealt as best as they can.

I have gone on rants about allies–that they should not demand space, that they should not raise their voices over those that are discriminated against. That they should be used to enhance our voices and walk beside us, and that they don’t deserve special treatment because of it. So it may seem a bit hypocritical to a few of you what I’m about to do now.

John was a special man. He was kind, and gentle, in a way that was opposed to his size–he was the tallest man I’d ever seen. It would have been easy for him to be intimidating, to loom over others, but he never did. He was the most approachable, the first to smile, the first to try and help others. He had a brilliant sense of humor, and a quick mind–and much to my groans, always had a pun for any situation.

He was also white and cis, and despite the fact that I am neither, he extended that kindness and understanding to me. Though he knew his experience was different than mine, and said so multiple times, he did his damndest to understand my life, even if it was beyond his scope.

John and his wife Coco have done more for me than almost anyone else. I know I haven’t yet spoken about my surgeries on here, but I got them by purchasing insurance using a crowd fund. Though I had the insurance, and they covered the surgeries, they fought me tooth and nail every step to prevent me from getting the surgeries.

Though I owe everyone who donated to my crowd fund more than I can say–John is the only reason I got my surgeries at all. He’d worked at several insurance companies. He knew the way they worked, the way to get things through the system. He not only guided me on what insurance to purchase and what plan to get, he helped me fight the bastards every step of the way. Not only that, but he and Coco comforted me when I had breakdowns about fighting them, when I thought all the money I had crowd sourced would be wasted. When I thought I was an absolute failure, and that I had taken money from people for no purpose.

I know many of my readers knew John personally through the LARP (Live Action Roleplay) community we were both a part of. It’s how I met John, at a modern day horror LARP called Occam’s Razor, which he ran with Coco, Katie, the GM Jacob, and several others, almost all of whom I call close friends. My first introduction to John was as a hardass, small town cop named Sheriff Winters that he played for the years that this game ran–a sheriff who distrusted me, who played a vagabond immortal who looked like Slash from Guns N’Roses.

Despite playing that hardass sheriff, John outside of game was always kind. When I transitioned, he helped me to figure out a plan for why my character would suddenly be female with the rest of the staff. To anyone that isn’t a giant geek like I am, just know that it showed just how willing he and the staff were willing to help me–there was no second guessing, there was no “why are you doing this”, just acceptance and a guiding hand to a path to walk.

I loved and love John with all my heart. I love Coco too. This loss is devastating in more ways than I can convey in my own silly words.

It is true that there are false allies in the world–people who claim they want to help, but want nothing more than to be thought of as a “decent” person without doing anything for it. However, for all of those people that we encounter (and will encounter as a trans person), I hope you have a John. Not just as an ally, but as a caring, loving friend. I hope you have all the time in the world with them, and that you can walk this life with them side by side.

Should they pass before you, please remember that your memories of them will be there to warm you as you go forward, that they may not be here any more, but they can be immortalized; woven into the seams of your heart and mind forever.

As long as you have those memories, their light can never go out. Keep the lights on, friends.


Patreon Posts will resume next week, but not for this post for obvious reasons. Thank you for understanding.

Spilling the T: T meaning Terminology

Y’all ready to kiki and spill some tea, okurrrr?

No. I’m kidding. As much as I would love to explain the origins of AAVE, especially in relation to the queer black community, that’s for another post.

This post is going to be an introduction to the words that help define the existence of trans people. This will be helpful for anyone that’s just starting to transition and doesn’t yet have the words to describe how they feel, who they are, what they need, etc. It’s also aimed at educating cis-people who may not know some of these terms and want to gain some further understanding.

I’m going to try and keep it from being as dry as Aunt Brenda’s turkey dinner, but no goddamn promises. Read it anyway, learn you a thing. ❤

Let’s start with the absolute basics! What does TRANSGENDER mean?

This is the definition that is the first thing that pops up when you google it:




  1. denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.

Hm. Okay. That’s sort of it, but not perfect. Gonna need you to update, Googs.

Transgender is an umbrella term for anyone that does not identify as cisgender. This includes people who who are transmen, transwomen (like yours truly), and people who are non-binary/genderqueer/agender, and numerous others. It IS an adjective, which means that when Chad on Tinder tells you “I’VE NEVER BEEN WITH A TRANSGENDER BEFORE”, be sure to fucking correct the jackass. Likewise, calling someone “a trans” is equally incorrect.

So, I threw a bunch of other terms in there that you may not know–cisgender, transman, transwoman, non-binary, and genderqueer, but don’t worry, I’m here to clarify. These terms are just a selection of the ways that people under the umbrella of trans experience may identify, save for cisgender. Let’s start there.

Cisgender (or cis for short) is an adjective that just means “not trans”. Seriously, that’s it.

Becky w/Bad Hair: “BuT wHY dO wE NeeD a WeRD fOR NoRMal?”

Oh, fuck. It looks like she followed us from the safari. Ugh–I thought I wore enough bug spray, christ.

Well, Becky, since you’re delightfully here, let me tell you why–because calling someone who is cisgender “normal” or “real” delegitimizes trans people as “abnormal” or “fake”. While transpeople may not be what the media shows you every day, and you may believe that you’ve never encountered a transperson in your life, let me assure you–we are neither abnormal or uncommon. We’re just not cis. Thus why the word “cisgender” exists.

There are a lot of people who believe that the word “cis” or “cisgender” is an insult because it denotes a label on people who should be the standard. There is another word for these people other than cisgender too!

Transphobes. So instead of wasting time on them, let’s move on, shall we?

A Transman, or a transwoman, are words refer someone who identifies with a binary gender other than the one they were assigned at birth. Both are nouns.  Binary here refers to the two genders most of the world think as “standard” (aka, boring) of male or female. Generally, people who identify this way will use binary pronouns, such as she/her or he/his. Adjective versions of these would be transmale or transfemale.

Non-binary is an adjective which describes someone who identifies outside the “standard” (again, boring) gender binary. They might use any pronouns, depending on who they are as people, but common ones include they and ze/zir (pronounced zee and zir, respectively). People who are non-binary may also refer to themselves as Agenderor without gender. Some people use these terms interchangebly, but some do not.

Someone who is Genderqueer can use it to mean a number of things, ranging from how they express themselves (style), to whether they’re trans, so on and so forth. They may or may not identify as trans depending on how they feel or express themselves, but several of them do. Someone who is genderqueer may also be non-binary, or they may alternate pronouns depending on internal feeling.

There are many, many other ways of identifying beyond these, but for now, those are a pretty good basis to start.

Becky w/ Bad Hair: “BUT StEpHaNIe, thEre’S OnLY tWo GEndErS.”

One, Becklizabeth, no there isn’t. And two, my name isn’t fucking Stephanie. It’s Persephone. Get it right or you won’t be able to pronounce any names again, feel me? Don’t you have a manager to harass? Food to assault? A yoga class to attend?

*ahem* Anyway.

A common tactic you will encounter from transphobes is the argument that there are only two genders. These people generally don’t care about receiving any education in what it means to actually be trans, and aren’t usually worth explaining anything to. They’re also devoted to the concept that gender is only bindary instead of a unique experience for everyone. Therefore, they are boring.

Like, Becky here. As her main obsession in life is telling transwomen that they’re monstrous men out to rape women, she simply can’t devote her time to anything that would make her interesting as a person. Like a hobby. Like knitting those terrible pink pussy hats she’s so fond of wearing, or finding some of her own business to mind.

Becky w/bad hair: “Ur A FuKiN MaN, StEphAniE.”

…what did I tell you before, bitch?

Becky w/bad hair: “oH, i’M SoRRy, not StEpHaNie. uR ReAl name is P–”


So sorry about that, had to take out the trash before we can move forward. Please, do ignore the smoke coming off my shotgun–anti-TERF shells do produce some kickback.

Ignoring people like Becky–there is no wrong way to identify. Scientists, psychiatrists, and numerous other people with fancy degrees can all tell you that. It just seems to be people with no qualifications to talk about it that really like to complain. Simply put, if you don’t want to be an asshole, respect what someone tells you they identify as, and use the pronouns that they ask you to use. It costs zero dollars not to be a dick.

Beyond ways of identifying, there are a few other terms that you as a transperson might use, or that cis-people may hear your transfriends use.

HRT–Hormone Replacement Therapy. While not every transperson does hormone replacement, a lot of us do, and not just binary transpeople. This is the process by which trans people reduce the presence of their naturally produced hormones, and replace them with other ones, often the ones traditionally associated with their true gender. To simplify, for binary trans people, that means reducing Testosterone for transwomen, and replacing it with Estrogen. For transmen, it means reducing Estrogen, and replacing it with Testosterone. People who are non-binary may also choose to take hormones, but the choice is largely a personal one for every transperson.

There are a number of ways which HRT can be done, ranging from pills, to injections, to patches, etc. It’s basically a reeeeeallly really slow anime transformation.

Okay, not really, but I fucking wish it were.

T—no, not the kind you spill when talking about Aunt Brenda the Raisin Kween, but Testosterone. Many people who take testosterone will shorten it to “T” for the sake of ease. It also makes it a bit easier to talk about HRT when you may be in mixed company. Though some people who take Estrogen do shorten that to “E” as well, it is far less common, I’ve found.

Passing— this term comes with a deep, deep dramatic sigh from me, because it is such a goddamn problematic term, but it must be mentioned. “Passing” is when someone who is trans is indistinguishable from someone who is cis. Basically, that they don’t look trans to cis people, even though there is no way a transperson is meant to look.

This is one of my least favorite terms, because it comes with a number of problems. In the past, especially among those who are binary trans, the ultimate goal was to “pass” unseen, or being able to go “Stealth” among cispeople. In the last ten years or so, there has been a lot of pushback against this sort of thing, because trans people shouldn’t have to pass to have the right to exist. The subject deserves far more detail than it is getting here, and I will have a post on it sometime in the future.

Full-time: This term refers to transpeople that have fully come out of the closet in most, if not all, aspects of their life. While some may not be able to do so for personal or professional reasons, going full-time is often the goal of many transpeople, because it means living 100% of your life as your most authentic self.

AMAB/AFAB: These terms are acroynms. AMAB is short for “Assigned Male at Birth”, and AFAB is “Assigned Female at Birth”. These are used by transpeople to define the conditions of their birth and what their doctor marked on their birth certificate based on sex markers. You should use these terms instead of things like “when you were a boy” or “their real gender”, both of which delegitimize trans experience.

Binding/Tucking: These terms refer to techniques by which transpeople reduce the presence of certain sex markers–namely breasts and AMAB genitalia, respectively. Binding flattens and smoothes the appearance of breasts, and is often done by transmen and non-binary AFAB people. To do it safely, a proper binder should be used, never tape or bandages. Tucking, on the other hand, reduces the appearance of AMAB genitalia through a number of techniques. Cispeople should not really point out or ask about either. Ever.

That covers the basics! Obviously there are other terms that come up when it comes to trans terminology, but this is a good base to start from. In the future, I will definitely be posting more about the language trans people use to define ourselves and our world.

As a quick logistics note–the blog will be on hiatus until January 7th for the holidays. It was originally going to be until the 2nd, but I need the extra time to build up a buffer of posts, so all of you don’t go without your necessary weekly quota of yours truly. I promise, updates will begin again on that date, as I still have a lot of things to say here.

Until then–have a wonderful holiday season and I’ll see you in the New Year!

Becky w/bad hair: i’M sTilL…aLiVe.


*bang bang*

Always double tap, my friends.

Special thanks to our newest Patreon Supporter–Larisa E.! If you’d like to support the blog, you can do so through

Transphobe Safari!

Well, g’day mates! Welcome to another fun-filled episode of “Hunting Transphobes”. I’m your host, Safari Director Valentine, who will guide you through the terrors of the wasteland known as “The Internet”.

Please make sure to buckle your seatbelts and to keep all extremities within the vehicle at all times. Transphobes have been known to bite, and also known to kill indiscriminately when they become scared, aroused, or otherwise agitated. They are, after all, the reason why I and many other black transwomen have a life expectancy of 35! Please also make sure to sign your waivers–you can find them beneath your seats!

We’ve got a few stops to make, so make sure you’ve gone to the bathroom–I will not be cleaning up your mess when you get scared.

  1. The TERF

Ahhh, first we find ourselves deep in cyber-suburbia, where white picket fences form lines like the Mason-Dixie, and property laws exclude anyone with a skin tone darker than tea. Where perfectly manicured lawns form artificial pathways, and no cars were purchased prior to 2016!

It is here that we seek our first quarry–the TERF.

Becky w/Bad hair: “ThEre’S OnLY tWo GEndErS!!!!”

Ah! I believe we’ve found one–listen to her cry, how it grates on the ears! A prime specimen.

The common TERF, or Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist can be identified in a number of ways. Whether it’s the pink pussy hat crowning a head of greasy straw-colored hair, or by repeating outdated feminist rhetoric from the 1960s, they will usually make themselves known as soon as they open their mouths.

This one is the most common form–the Becky. A late 20s-to-mid 40s white woman with nothing better to do with her time than be concerned about what’s in the pants of the people around them. She’ll attend women’s marches, will campaign for equal pay for equal work, and likely voted for Hillary in the last primary–but as soon as you mention a transwoman, her jaws will unhinge and her eyes will go white with rage.

These are the same women that you will see posting on facebook about trying to peek into bathroom stalls when they suspect a transwoman is using the same bathroom as them. They’re the ones that cry that transwomen are all men just trying to get into their pants, and that we will attack them at the drop of a hat.

Becky w/Bad Hair: “I DoN’T WAnT MeN in my ToiLEt.”

Oh, believe me, Becky, I suspect actual men want nothing to do with your toilet, which I assume is what you call your mouth with all the shit coming out of it.

Creatures like Becky are very invested in excluding transwomen from any feminist rhetoric, though often they argue in favor of transmen because they still see them as women. Which…the leaps of logic here are both appalling and fascinating to study.

These creatures are dangerous because their backwards ways of thinking contribute to the stigma against transwomen and transpeople in general, and make us out to be liars. Because while Becky thinks she’s protecting herself and her fellow “real” women from a bunch of men in skirts, what they’re really doing is using misogyny to define what is and isn’t a woman, entirely based on what’s between our legs.

Becky w/Bad Hair: “UR a FUCKinG MAN.”

How delightful! As much as I would love us to stay here and watch as she starts to foam at the mouth, let’s move on.

2. The Common Troll

And now, my friends, we delve away from cyber-suburbia and into the general public known as “The Comments”. This is a common area that many of you may have visited, but not quite in the way you might on the latest youtube slime video.

You see, posts, videos, and articles that focus on trans experience draw a lot of attention, both positive and negative, and if the comment sections are to be believed, mostly negative. That’s because it’s here that we find one of the loudest groups of transphobes–The Common Troll.

Unlike their mythological counterparts, Internet Trolls, by-and-large, look like every day people, though many of them may be in serious need of a shower. For the most part, this group is made up of men, many of whom like to comment on articles about Laverne Cox and Caitlyn Jenner with “She’s a man” and “Can’t fool me”, as if either of them had any interest in any part of their existence.

Ah, I do believe I see one now! A reminder–please keep all of your extremities within the vehicle at all times. Most trolls are toothless, impotent fucks, but they do occasionally bite!


Charming, isn’t he? Note the greasy hair and general patina of filth that covers his pasty, skeletal manflesh. This one is deep into his path–underneath the odor, I’m sure you’ll note the undertones of ongoing virginity.

MuscleDick69: “I’ll fuck all you hoes–none of you want to date me because I’m too much alpha male.”

Yes, I’m sure that’s it, MuscleDick69. No doubt it could not be that you need a shower, professional help in the grooming department, and that you post misogynistic bullshit all over the internet.

Make no mistake–the Common Troll aren’t just a transphobic, but also just plain misogynist! While all transphobia has a basis in misogyny, these creatures tend to double or even triple down on gobbling up all that thick, delicious sexism like the semen off of Chuck Norris’s dick.


Oooh, threats. I’m sure they’re as effective as your pick-up lines, you adorable, unwashed creature. Bless. Sadly, we cannot spend more time with our friend, as we have one more stop to make on this first journey.

3. Alpha Bros

Welcome to the section of the internet that is home to CrossFit, pre-workout, and far too much tanning lotion! Here we find the distant cousin of the Common Troll–the Alpha Bro.

Don’t let the overwhelming aura of homoeroticism fool you, this much-larger subspecies is almost entirely homophobic and lacking in self-awareness. They’re also, you guessed it, transphobes too! Almost as if there’s a running theme to this journey.

You see, where the Common Troll often barks out that he is an alpha male unappreciated by society, Alpha Bros actually try to embody that. Through steroids, weight-lifting and an impressive level of vanity, they hope to entice any semi-attractive women to their beds by using their bodies to cover up their complete lack of a personality!

Chad: “Can you spot me, bro?”

Ahhh, we found one. Look at his plumage–typically, creatures of this species wear brightly covered tanktops that largely fail to cover their nipples, if they wear a shirt at all!

Chad: “Woah, what a babe. You come here often?”

Wait, is he talking to me?

Chad: “You know it, sweet cheeks. You get a load of these guns?”

…he…he’s kissing his muscles now. Oh, dear. Well! This presents a prime opportunity! Allow me to show you the true depths of transphobia that runs through this group–you sir, if you would hold my hat? Thank you. Please remain seated, this could go badly.

“Chad, was it?”

Chad: “How’d you know, babe?”

“It’s on your trucker hat. Listen, you think I’m hot?”

Chad: “Fuck yeah.”

“Well, I’m trans.”

Oh my, that is an interesting shade of red. Oh dear, is that vein in his forehead going to explode?


…are we away? Phew.

You see, Alpha Bros pride themselves on what they believe is a purity of masculinity. That they, essentially, are the gods that men are meant to be, without any question. This sort of toxic ideal leads to an internal crisis at anything that causes them to question themselves– Could I be gay? Am I attracted to a transwoman?”.

This can lead to reactions much like you saw in Chad, he of many muscles and so much rage. My, he was angry, wasn’t he?

Like the Common Troll, these men will often state, usually without prompting, how unattractive they find trans people. Actually, they bring it up so often, I can only assume that their obsession shows in their internet history, where they beat it to trans porn and have an impending crisis of self.

In situations where they’re suddenly confronted with a transperson they do, in fact, find attractive, they will at best stutter and deny it, and at worse, attempt to strangle us in their meaty paws, and not in the fun way.  For this reason they are often the most dangerous of the three I’ve shown you here, and I strongly recommend that you approach with caution–unless of course you have a magical get-away car.

And that brings us to the end of our first foray into the transphobes of the internet! It has been a pleasure being your host and risking life and limb alongside you. Remember darlings, you don’t owe a transphobe anything–your time, an explanation, hell, you don’t even owe them a glance.

Until next time, this has been “Hunting Transphobes”. Toodles!


Special shout out to our newest Patreon supporters, Monica M., Peter H., Sean, Shaye R, and Stephanie M! Thank you for all your support.

If you wish to support the blog, please check out our Patreon here:

Good Enough to Ghost

CW: This post is NSFW, and has graphic description of sexual acts and feelings of worthlessness. Read at your own discretion.


Adam always took me on the couch. I’d never seen his room, never stepped further in than the one room of his apartment that made up the kitchen and living room. I’d only ever gotten a glimpse of it when the door was cracked–a small look at white walls and mussed blue bedsheets.

I wasn’t allowed in there. The bedroom was a sanctuary, only for women who could spend the night and wake up in those sheets. It was for women were worthy of more, who could spend more time in his life than a few seedy hours. It was a place for anyone but me, all brown-skinned and hard angles, my breasts, at the time, barely more than a whisper of what could eventually come.

He leaned me against the cushions. Adam wasn’t tall–he was shorter than me by an inch–but he was strong. His arms were all muscle, a combination of weight training and the legacy of his time in Iraq. There was only one photo in his apartment, and it was of him in his Marine uniform, standing next to other soldiers, almost all indistinguishable, with short cropped hair and clean-shaved skin. He had a pale-colored beard now, and much shaggier hair–a rejection of what the military stifled.

I wondered if I was part of that rejection too. I wondered, too, what the other men in that photo would think of him–of Adam fucking a transwoman. Not someone who could hide it, either–the layers of carefully applied makeup couldn’t cover the width of my nose, the weighty shadow cast by my overhanging brow. Even a full mouth couldn’t fully simulate cis-femininity, no matter how I carefully painted it.

Anyone could look at me, and know who I am, what I was, in an instant. To look at me was to know my transness, was to know I was something other. 

Adam knew it too. Adam with his blonde hair and square jaw–Adam, who looked how Hollywood wanted America to look. Adam, who served in war; who killed people in far off countries because he was ordered to.

Adam, who would pull down my leggings, my panties, and look at me with the kind of grin that people get when they’re doing something naughty, something they’re not supposed to. That’s what I was to him–a novelty of strange desires and stranger body parts, something to secretly lust after and to never, ever tell a single person about.

He took off my top, and pulled me in by my waist–his hands fit around the sides of my ribcage. I was thrilled by his strength, the way he yanked me up against his body, and pulled me to his mouth, kissing me with desperation, as if my mouth was a blessing, a relief.

In reality, it was just because he knew he’d never speak to me again after this.

I pulled his shirt from his shoulders–he was broad, and I ran my fingers across his neck and back, tracing the lines of muscle. He pushed me back into the couch and ground himself against my thighs–the length of him was stiff underneath his jeans. I was proud, so proud–that I could make him feel, make him want me. At least for the moment.

I’d been with men like Adam before–honestly, it sometimes seems that I’ve been with more former military men than anyone else. I should have known what I was getting myself into, what kind of mistake I was making. Yet as always, my sense of reality is blurred when it comes to the potential for love, for the chance to dive in and hope that I’ll float.

I didn’t love Adam, but could I fool myself into seeing potential there? Could I fool myself as I unbottoned his jeans and put my hand inside his boxer-briefs that he might feel something more for me? Could I fool myself as I touched him, and he shuddered against me, and believe that hardness, that lust, could lead to love?

With all the pure, brilliant, and absolute abandon that my delusion could grant me. I was weightless in the air as I dove, unaware that the water beneath me was too deep. That like so many other times, I would drown underneath waves of my own creation. After all, like any good author, I excel in creating things that aren’t really there.

I kissed him, as I pulled him free, curling his boxer briefs underneath his length. I moved from his lips, and dragged my mouth down his neck, tasting the warmth and saltiness of his skin with my tongue. His hands tightened on my back. Lower and lower I went, sampling the smoothness of his chest, the bumps of muscle in his stomach, until I was hovering over his hardness, the tip blooming and wet.

I lapped at it with my tongue, slow. He sucked in his breath when I took him into my mouth, burying my nose into the base, pressed against tight curls of coarse, blonde hair.

“Fuuuuck,” the word was more air than substance, and his head went back, straight blonde hair pushed back from his forehead. I smiled around him, and began to move, curling my tongue over the head when I reached the top, and then pulling down all the way to the base again.

His hands threaded through my hair–he didn’t push, not yet, not until he was sure I could handle it. But he wanted to, I could feel it in the tension of his thighs, shaking where my hands held him. I gave his leg a squeeze of encouragement, and that was he needed.

His hand tightened in my hair, and he thrust into my mouth. My eyes watered when he slammed me nose first into his pelvis. I tried to open my mouth, my throat as wide as possible–less to keep myself from choking, more to give him what he wanted.

“Good girl. Fuck. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” And I wanted to be–I wanted to be his good girl, give him what he wanted, no matter how much my throat burned, no matter how hard it was to breathe. No matter how much mascara dripped down the edges of my eyes.

When he finally let go of my head, I gasped for air. My head ached where he had pulled my hair too hard.

“Come on, turn around–I’m gonna fuck you.” He reached for his dick and gave it a pump. I nodded and turned, but it wasn’t fast enough and he flipped me around, pushing me onto all fours on the couch. He then gave my ass a hard smack.

“Do you have a condom?” I asked. There was a pause behind me.

“Uh. Yeah. If we need one?”

I looked over my shoulder. I could see in his face the hope there, but silly as I was, stupid as I was, there was no way. “Condoms and lube.”

He shrugged, and hopped off the couch, kicking off the bottom of his jeans and walking into his bedroom. When he came back he slid on the condom, and slipped some lube into his palm, slicking himself.

“Turn around again.”

I did, and braced myself. I prayed he would loosen me first–prayed, because I was too afraid to ask. Too afraid that he wouldn’t want to fuck me if he knew I needed preparation. That had happened before–guy in such a rush to fuck me that they tried to stick it in, and when I told them it would hurt me if they didn’t work at it first, they lost interest. Because putting your dick in your partner’s ass is fine, but god forbid you need to use your fingers first to keep from hurting them.

We hadn’t done anal before theb, only blow jobs and hand jobs, but when I felt his hand slide behind me I relaxed, that tiny bit of fear at the coming pain loosened.

He spread me open, first with one finger, then two. even with lube-slick fingers, it burned up and down my legs, and I bit the couch cushion to keep quiet, to keep from showing any pain, and discomfort. Because who would want me if I wasn’t perfect, if I showed any weakness? If I dared to make him feel like he was anything less than a god for wanting to put it inside me.

“Enough?” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. Adam’s fingers slipped away, and along with it the burn. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than I expected.

He eased into me with a hiss, and I grabbed at the pillow cushions, shutting my eyes as hard as I could at the invasion of it, the pain of it. My entrance was set aflame, my spine only so many layers of kindling. Adam went slow, inch by agonizing inch, until he was all the way inside me.

Then he started to move.

The first few minutes are always the worst–especially without enough prep. Each thrust is a hot spike in your guts unless you can stay perfectly relaxed. I wasn’t relaxed, I was a ball of tension, trying not to scream.

“Baby, you’re so tight, fuck.”

I gasped for breath, which he took for encouragement, and went faster, and faster and faster. I tried to loosen, tried to relax the iron-grip of steel my bones had locked into. I tried to enjoy the strong body above me, the way his hands grabbed at me ass and chest, feeling for tissue that was only barely there.

Just as I was starting to ease, just as I was starting to feel my muscles unlock, just as it was starting to feel good when he hit me at just the right angle, it was over. He fell against me, panting, sweat-slick chest against my back. He pulled out and I winced. Even if it was out, the ache remained.

Adam laughed, and laid a kiss against my neck before rising off of me. I shook, trying to move my limbs that were screaming at me from the tension, from being locked into place.

He laughed as he pulled off the condom. “Hope it was as good for you, as me.”

No, it wasn’t. It had hurt. There was no pleasure–and never once had he touched me down below, or shown any care for my own pleasure or completion. But I was a good girl; a good, lonely, pathetic girl.

I smiled. “You know it was.”

I went home that night, because I wasn’t allowed to stay, wasn’t allowed to cuddle even though my body craved attention as much as it ached after sex. Still, somehow I’d convinced myself I was happy, that it didn’t matter that he had no care for my own feelings, my own desires in sex. He wanted me–shouldn’t that be enough?

In the days that passed, I agonized over whether I should text him immediately or wait–what if I seemed desperate? We’d had sex more than once now, but still–what if I scared him away?

I made it three days without contact, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t respond. Not that day, not that week–not for months.

It’s a common enough thing–ghosting. It’s happened to a lot of people, men and women included, but it is super common for transpeople. Why? Because we’re not often seen as dating material. We’re the fuck dolls, the fetish bait. We’re what you watch porn of late at night on an incognito tab so no one knows you want us.

When we get ghosted, more often than not it’s because we’re no longer wanted. We were the completion of a fantasy, something to do once and then never again–an itch that once scratched never returns again.

I hate it. I hate that transpeople, especially transwomen, are seen as walking blow-up dolls. That even when men dare to date us, they act as if they’re doing us a favor because they could be with a “real woman” instead. And we’re supposed to fall all over ourselves to hop on their dicks because of it.

Women are always told to settle. That mediocrity should be rewarded with our hearts, our labor, our bodies. As transwomen, it’s even worse, because we’re taught to believe that we’re unworthy of love, unworthy of the men that would dare to be with us.
Men hand us turds and tell us they’re gold, and our own loneliness and self-hate makes us believe it. We delude ourselves because we are taught we have no worth, because society sees us as monsters, not people. Men tell us that they’re lowering themselves to date us, that we’re lucky that they would even consider sleeping with us. That we should be content as their dirty little secret.

We deserve better. We have to demand better–to see in ourselves the value that the world tries to hide. We have to see the beauty and power in who we are, to see that we’re worthy of respect and of love. That we aren’t lucky because our partners deign to sleep with us, but because they were lucky to find us. To find love in a person the world wants to put down, whose entire existence is resistance. To find a precious jewel that transphobes want you to believe is dirt.

I refuse to be invisible. I refuse to accept that my body, my sex, my love aren’t precious gifts anyone should be honored to receive. I refuse to see myself as anything but something to be treasured.

You should too.

Six months later, Adam contacted me. He told me he’d been talking to a girl, a cis-woman, while we were together, that he’d decided to date her. He said that that was over now, that he’d love it if I could come over.

I told him to screw.

Special thanks to our newest Patreon supporters, Andrew W. and Elise N.!

“Undahtones, darling. Undahtones”: Guide to Selecting Foundation

Foundation. The base. Throughout my life I have known that with a strong foundation, you can always build your way to the top. That you can rise over any struggle, any obstacle, to achieve greatness.


Who the fuck am I kidding? Strong foundation where? Build your way up who? I am so deep into my own bullshit I have no idea where the actual bottom is, but my makeup looks good. There’s that at least! Right?

…Right? Console me, damn it, I have no time for crying today.

Anyway, foundation–while I did cover my recommendations for foundation in the beard article, there is a lot more that goes into selecting a foundation than I went into there. In fact, matching foundation to your undertone is one of the hardest things to do with makeup. It took me a long time before I could really even match myself, nevermind other people.

Don’t suffer like me. Read this carefully. I know it isn’t all shiny like eyeshadow or lipstick, but it is important if you want to avoid looking like Donald Trump. Which, hopefully after this post and my later articles on choosing wigs, you never will.

Let’s get started.

  1. Undertone

The first step to figuring out what foundation you need is determining your undertone. Your skin’s undertone is the predominant color that helps determine your overall skintone. While skin is always made up of more than one tone, there is generally one that works as a base–and since foundation works to make the base more uniform, we work from there.

There are, generally speaking, three main types of undertones:

-Pink, or cool-toned: This is skin that is predominately pink. In darker skin, this tends towards a rich purple or sometimes maroon undertone.

-Yellow, or warm-toned: Skin that is predominately yellow. In darker skins, this tends more towards gold or bronze.

-Neutral: Skin that is neither entirely warm or cool. This can sometimes come across as a greenish undertone, but not always.

Contrary to popular belief, you can be of ANY DEPTH OF SKIN COLOR and have any one of these undertones. There are dark-skinned people that are cool-toned, there are pale people that are warm toned, and everything in between. I, personally, am medium-tan with neutral undertones.

So how do we determine undertones? Easily. Sort of. There’s a few different methods:

  1. Vein coloring: Yeah, you heard me. Veins. It isn’t as creepy as it sounds though.

To determine your undertone by this method, look at one of your arms–it could be either, it doesn’t much matter, and look at the veins in your skin. If they look bluish, you’re most likely cool-toned. If they look slightly greenish, you’re warm-toned. If you’re not really sure and it could kinda go either way (that’s me, yo), then you’re likely neutral

This method can be a little bit tricky in general, and sometimes it’s easiest to get a friend’s opinion, particularly if you experience any type of colorblindness. This method is also a lot more difficult if you don’t have visible surface veins, and may not be the easiest to do if you’re on the dark to deep-dark side of skintone But there are other methods, like–

Using Jewelry: No, I don’t mean that you whisper to a magic locket and it tells you the secrets of your skintone (though that’d be cool), I mean using the tones of jewelry to determine your undertone, particularly gold and silver jewelry.

This doesn’t have to be done with real gold or real silver at all–if you think I can afford that, Imma point you to the blog title and leave it at that. Any cheap gold or silver COLORED necklace will do, though I find it easier to do this with pieces that are larger.

Try on both the silver and gold jewelry and look in the mirror. Or take a selfie. Make sure to do this without any makeup on as it will drastically affect the outcome.

If the gold jewelry looks great on your skin–you’re warm-toned.

#FASHION HAND Also yes my camera is terrible just pretend it’s the early 2000s k? K.

If the silver jewelry looks great–you’re cool-toned.

Ain’t no one ever gonna think this shit is real, that’s for damn sure

If both look fine–you’re neutral, girl.

Clothing: This one I find to be accurate, but somewhat difficult to do if you don’t know color theory. A lot of websites and fashion guides will tell you, essentially, to wear something blue and something yellow–and whichever looks better on you will tell you your undertone.

It isn’t that simple, though–blues and yellows can both be either warm or cool. A cool yellow tends to look more like a lemon, and a warmer yellow looks more golden, like sunlight. Warmer yellows are closer to orange on the color spectrum, where cooler yellows are closer to green. The same is true of blue. A warm blue leans more towards green, and a cool blue is closer to purple.

That might be a lot to take in, but I can simplify it. If you want to use this method, be sure that whatever yellow or blue garment you’re wearing falls into the right category.

To test for a warm undertone, you’re going to want to use a warm yellow article of clothing.

Hello, it’s me, being cute and shit. 2004 me is shaking in her little goth boots.

To test for a cool undertone, you’ll want a cool-toned blue.

Can I get through a photo without touching my face? No. No I can’t. Thank yew for noticing~

Tanning and Sunburning: This one is a bit more subjective and can only really be determined in warmer seasons, but it is still legitimate!

How you tan can show you what undertone you have–If, as you get darker you get more bronze, generally you’re warm toned. If you get more golden, you’re cool toned.

However, more indicative than the tan itself is whether you burn or not. People who have cool-toned skin, even people who are deep dark, are more likely to get a sunburn when exposed to sunlight. Alternatively, though people who are warm-toned can also burn, they are far more likely to get a tan without ever burning.

A few more notes on undertones:

  1. People with neutural undertones can tend to be olivemeaning there’s a slight greenish hue to their skin. Not like the Grinch, but green is still present. Typically, people who are olive-toned are medium to dark in skintone, and depending on the lighting, sometimes their skin can appear duller or grayer than people with warm skin tones. I’m olive-toned, believe me I know.
  2. Undertones are what’s behind the whole ‘Season’ system you may have seen floating around. Are you a Spring? An Autumn? A Winter? Most of that system isn’t BS, but it is pretty limiting, so I tend not to use it.
  3. Undertones will also play a role in what other shades of makeup may look good on you, but it’s more complex than that. Though someone may be cool-toned, they may be able to wear a warm-toned red lipstick. It will just look brighter against an opposing skintone because of the contrast. I’ll cover this more in the section on lip-products.
  4. Some people may have warm-toned skin, but have a lot of redness due to rosacea or other skin conditions like acne. Redness does not always mean you’re pink-toned, which can become apparent after neutralizing the redness with a color corrector or properly matched foundation shade.
  5. MAC, the brand that is sort of the industry standard for makeup, marks the undertones of their products the opposite way from every other brand in the world. Their cool (NC) is for yellow or warm toned skintones, and their warm (NW), is for pink. Idk why–if I could get that answer I’d probably earn a lot more money.

All of this is trial and error, but hopefully you’ll be able to figure out a general idea of what your undertone is. Once you do, it’s then time to go looking for a foundation.

  1. Selecting Foundation

I did cover this in “Fucking Beards and How to Hide Them”, but it bears repeating. Getting a match at a higher-end store can give you a guideline when searching for cheaper makeup online or in the drugstore. This is especially true of MAC–as the industry standard brand, their skin classifications (NC15, NW20, NC30, so on) can help you find other, matching shades. I covered my cheaper foundation recommends in the beard post as well.

However, I will say again here that if you can, foundation is the one thing you should shell out for. It’s the base for everything, and covering a beard can be difficult. MAC makes several options that can cover a beard–I used their Studio Fix Fluid for years, and their Full-Coverage foundation online is commonly used for covering beards. However, I realize not everyone can afford this, even if it’s the only thing they’d want to shell out for.

So get matched to a foundation at a MAC counter or at a Sephora, and ask for a sample. They should provide one to you, and then you can go looking for a foundation. They’ll also be able to help if you’re having any difficulties with your undertone.

After this, it’s time to search for a matching, cheaper shade.

Option 1: Using

This is a free website that will match whatever color you’ve received in one foundation to a BUNCH of other foundations. You can also control what price point you’re matched at. It’s an extremely useful tool–I highly recommend it. It is especially accurate if you know your MAC shade, but it can match based on a number of foundation brands.

Option 2: Trial and error

Unfortunately, cheaper foundations don’t always come from places that allow you to swatch them before trying them out. This is true both for online purchases and purchases from the drugstore. Luckily, if you’re in the US, you can always return them. Getting a baseline from a high-end store will give you a general idea for selecting shades, and if the ones you get work out, great! If they don’t, get you your coins back and try another shade. Remember, the color in a bottle can be slightly off from what it actually is when applied.

A few other notes:

  1. Foundations oxidize–this is true of almost any foundation, but foundations do tend to do this more the darker they are, or the more SPF they contain. For this reason, a foundation may match you as soon as you put it on, but then you’ll look in a mirror two hours later and look like bozo the clown. If this happens, the best thing is to try the same foundation in the next shade up for your undertone. If that doesn’t work, look into another brand
  2. The more foundation you put on, the darker it can be–and most of us ladies need to put a lot on the beard area. Not something that is ALWAYS a problem, but something to keep in mind. Please be as light as you can with your application.
  3. Even if a foundation matches you perfectly, it may not work with your skin-type, and may break up around the nose, settle into fine lines, or have any number of other issues. It sucks, but keep trying–I’ve gone through a lot of foundations before I could find ones that truly worked for me.


And that’s basically it! The next makeup post will be about concealers, which, even if they aren’t thick enough to hide my credit score, can certainly help hide the dark circles I get under my eyes when I think about it at night.

…they try, anyway.

Fyi, this was the real face I was making while wearing that yellow top:

This top doesn’t fit over my boobs. Like, at all. It’s basically a titty strangler. 

Before you go, I just want to announce that the blog now has a Patreon! You can reach it by clicking the following link:

I’m also happy to give a shout out to people who have already started to donate to the blog! Thanks so much to Dominick N, Becca N.,  and Erik F. for your contributions!