The first time I went to the beach after starting my medical transition was a getaway with my chosen family. We were a pack of queer and trans misfits chasing the sun, traversing paths hidden by tropical overgrowth. Eventually, we reached the Atlantic. Surrounded by lush cliffs, waves lapping at the shore, I was ready for my main character moment.
The setting was perfect for an affirming photoshoot, but I still worried about how strangers were perceiving me, about my makeup sweating off under the hot sun, about getting clocked. My heart raced as I stripped down to my bright yellow bikini top and orange thong.
After we left the beach, I looked through the photos, immediately throwing away everything I learned as a therapist. My thoughts grew cruel: There was my square jaw, my broad shoulders, and, most distressing of all, my “meaty tuck.” Going to the beach has always been one of my favorite pastimes. I used to be able to go on a whim, go topless, frolic in the sand wearing whatever underwear I had on at the time. But after beginning my transition, I, like so many other trans folks, now have a long list of precautions I must take to feel safe. My most intrusive fear? A visible bulge putting me in danger.
I never thought these photos would see the light of day. Then I smoked a joint and remembered who the fuck I am — a powerful, divine, unapologetically trans woman. I decided the pain I felt was all the more reason to share the photos. Maybe showing off my body, bulge and all, would help other girls feel empowered to love themselves, too.
I posted the pictures. Not only that, I edited them to be emblazoned with a new mantra: “Trans girls with bulges belong at the beach.” Nothing could have prepared me for what came next.
My post quickly went viral, amassing over 18,000 likes on Instagram and 28,000 on Twitter, along with 2,695 retweets, and over 1.2 million impressions in just two days. Dozens of friends and strangers applauded my confidence and beauty, and cis allies expressed fierce support for girls like me. I was particularly moved by the trans women who told me that the post changed their lives; that it gave them the confidence to finally try going to the beach themselves.
But as with any time trans women proclaim our right to thrive in this world, hate and death threats poured in, too. My DMs were flooded with creative and detailed descriptions of how people wanted to kill me. When my anxiety got the best of me and I imagined someone actually tracking me down, I found solace in hoping that if someone were to hurt me, I would become a martyr. My life would become a message of trans liberation that could never die.
The reaction to my post affirmed the importance of uplifting trans girls, women, femmes with bulges, and trans people who don’t pass in general. It convinced me the world might finally be ready to start having a conversation about the many and equally valid ways trans femme folks inhabit our bodies.
In my experience and with few exceptions, trans women get represented in two ways. On one hand, our dicks are fetishized in porn — a topic that’s rarely discussed beyond well-meaning attempts to de-emphasize the inappropriate cis-fixation on our genitals. On the other, the most cis-passing members of our community, like Valentina Sampaio, or Leyna Bloom, get put on the covers of magazines. What we need is representation that does not fetishize our bodies, nor promote the oppressive notion that, to be accepted, we must strive toward a cis ideal.
When I think of the conversation between Carmen Carrera and Katie Couric, the one in which Carrera gracefully redirects the discussion away from her “private parts” during a 2014 segment on Katie, I’m left not only feeling admiration and gratitude for Carrera’s poise and reminder that trans people are more than just our genitals, but also wondering how we can broach the topic, on our own terms, in order to uplift and affirm trans women who choose not to have bottom surgery or tuck.
When I see Valentina and Leyna being uplifted, I’m not only proud, but also hungry for a day when I can see a trans woman grace the cover of a mainstream magazine with a visible bulge. I dream of the day when a trans woman with a bulge will be seen as just beautiful, conventional even, not exotic or inherently erotic.
I dream of a day when bottom surgery is no longer viewed — both within and outside the trans community — as the final step of one’s transition. Fuck that, and fuck the whole conception of transition as some linear progress toward the elusive, pearly gates of societal acceptance. Hypervisible transness is still seen as an abnormality in need of correction, which leaves behind those who do not wish to, or are otherwise incapable of, conforming to oppressive ideals of what it means to be a binary man or woman
We can demand so much more: A world where trans women get to choose whether to get bottom surgery or tuck, not from a place of fear or shame, but from a place that centers our autonomy. As a nonbinary trans woman who doesn’t currently want bottom surgery, nor envision myself ever wanting it, I want to be celebrated even if I am visibly trans.
No, I want to be celebrated because I am visibly trans.
Trans bulges belong at the beach. Trans women with bulges belong out in the world, everywhere. Trans women who choose not to medically transition or cannot medically transition are valid. I want trans feminine people to be able to proclaim “fuck a tuck,” if that is their choice. My hope for that world grows each day, because I believe in our collective power and radical imagination.
My faith in that future is rooted in my community bonds. Below, I spoke to four of my trans femme friends about their relationship to the beach, to their bodies, and to the idea that “trans girls with bulges belong at the beach.” By making room for our varied experiences, we can build the scaffolding needed to take us to a world where all trans people will be celebrated, no matter how we choose to manifest our most authentic selves.
I used to avoid the beach, not just because of my bulge, but because of body image in general. But after almost two years of hormone replacement therapy (HRT), I feel more comfortable in my body than I ever have before. Of course, I still deal with insecurities, but being able to feel hot as fuck on the beach wearing a bikini nowadays is such a euphoric feeling. I soak up every second I get to show off this body after feeling like I had to hide for so long. I’m way more confident now than I was when I first came out.
There’s a lot of power and joy in the statement, “Trans girls with bulges belong at the beach.” We do belong at the beach and I wish this sentiment was universal. Trans women are constantly policed and this is a moment for us to claim our power and reclaim the conversation about our bodies.
My personal feelings are complicated because I like having the parts I do, but I also usually prefer tucking because it makes me feel comfortable, including at the beach. For me, it comes down to safety when I’m in public. I don't want to have to worry about people staring — or worse, creepy men. I’ve had many men approach me when I’m at the lake because they obviously see a beautiful woman, but I wonder how different the interaction would be if I had a visible bulge.
That said, some days, I look in the mirror and go, “So what if it shows? Hot girls have bulges!” I’m working on getting to a point where I feel okay if it’s showing. Self-love is a continuous journey. Dealing with dysphoria is the worst, I know, and however you choose to present to the world should be based on what makes you feel safe and happy. Trans women are divine and we are magic. Remember that.
I grew up in Florida and spent a lot of my summers in Belize. I fucking love the beach. But going to the beach as a trans woman feels like a spy mission. I'm always looking for the moment where I'm not worrying about anything, and the beach is not usually it! I am literally most myself when I am in the ocean, so this is something I struggle with a lot.
Honestly? The assertion that “trans girls with bulges belong at the beach” makes me feel fear. Maybe that's because I've experienced so much transphobia everywhere I've ever lived or traveled. When I am out in the world people look at me, then immediately inspect my crotch, trying to "figure out" which genitals I have.
I tuck all the time in public, except for the beach, where I tend to wear shorts until I can sit down on my towel because at the beach, a tuck simply doesn't stay. When I want to swim, I move as quickly as possible from the towel to the water. It's a super stressful experience, and I don't go to the beach that much because of it.
To help trans girls feel more comfortable going to the beach, we have to stop using all the TERF-y language. Too many communities have judged penises as carrying some sort of inherent evil, in my opinion. It's important to remember that the vagina and the penis are the same organ, just influenced by different hormones!
The beach has never been a place for me to exist in authenticity and freedom. Especially within the reality of my Black “Trans Womanhood,” the weight of sexualization and fetishization all enveloped within the constant policing of “woman” and “femininity” has been enough to at times make me completely forego bearing swimwear. In this reality, lyin’ upon the gravel of a yt man’s playground, I know it’s not attainable for me to achieve beauty and validation.
There is no room for breath to even utter the true nature of my identity — how it manifests inseparably with my blackness, my gender, my sexuality and so on and so forth. “Masculinity,” “Femininity,” “Man,” “Woman” are but musings of yt acceptability and standardization, swallowed up and snuffed out by the vast universe that my gender expands into. “Woman” has become a term I accept for ease of navigation to make up for what language still lacks. As all praises and adorations pale in comparison to the limitless reality of God, it is so for the intersectional gender variance of Black people. Within this context, I have simply accepted that there is no true space in arenas of attractiveness like the beach, nor do I desire to play the game. And as a “Trans Woman” I readily accept this reality as fact and just don’t give a fuck. Period.
The assertion “trans girls with bulges belong at the beach” brings up a lot for me, especially when thinking about the ways our perception of gender is influenced by race. I’ve seen many Trans Women, yt and of color, dawn bulges at the beach, yet have yet to see Black Trans Women do so in equal measure. In theory, the idea feels very freeing and empowering to the body, yet still I fear how the world will work to constrict the bodies of Black Trans Women who refuse to conform.
I’m very fortunate to have a lot of trans friends who I can hit up for trips to the beach. I feel so free at the beach because they’re with me, affirming me and gassing me up the entire time.
Of course trans girls with bulges belong at the beach! My body isn’t something to be hated or to be celebrated; it’s mine and mine alone, and I belong where I choose to belong. I refuse to be looked at like a freak. I deserve to feel like I’m just another beachgoer, regardless of how visible my junk may be through my swimsuit.
When I do tuck in public, it’s more for comfort than to “blend in,” but I’m very fortunate to feel that way. The notion of being “visibly trans” or not has never been something I’m interested in. But I know a lot of tucking decisions come down to the individual and everyone has to make the choice that’s best for them.
I’d encourage people in the broader queer community to make themselves available for beach trips. Invite your trans friends! Ask them to go to a smaller beach than the ones where all the cissies go, and always compliment your friends on how they look.
And if you’re trans yourself, remember you’re perfect and gorg the way that you are. You don’t look funny or awkward or whatever, bulge or no bulge. No one is looking at you as harshly as you look at yourself. I learned that passing and all of that is just a big scam, y’know? You gotta feel hot for you.
Photographer: Jordyn Belli
Groomer: Sommer Rodriguez
Production: Born Artists
Models: Alex Jenny, Angelíca Grace, Ariel Zetina, Irregular Girl, Zolita
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