I’ve always hated the beach. The sand doesn’t agree with my autism, I’m a weak swimmer, and truthfully, it’s alway filled me with dread. Sandy shores and bodies of water touch a certain ick for me that seems all too familiar for many of my fellow transmasc loved ones.
As a coastal Southern California boy, the beach was one of the first places I remember experiencing the freedom of a bare chest in the sunshine — and the pain of having that taken away around the time children become “boys” and “girls” in the eyes of adults around us. In other words, the beach is the first place I remember experiencing gender — and with it, dysphoria.
And that goes for any instance of swimming. I recall the summer I sat out every time my day camp went to the pool; crying a river of tears at a classmate’s birthday pool party because I couldn’t bring myself to change into my swimsuit; the deep envy I felt every time I had to wear some shirt or swim top and someone else didn’t. Anytime I see the water’s edge, the memories all well to the surface.
But this summer has been different. After much convincing, I braved the famously queer Jacob Riis Beach, not once, but many times — and to my surprise, each visit to the powdery peninsula felt better than the last. In fact, I felt imbued with a newfound sense of beach confidence, though I suppose a few years on and off sweet testosterone cypionate will do that.
Even so, it wasn’t just the T. But seeing so many beautiful, gloriously transmasc people all around me — nipples, chests, and top surgery scars shining in the sun — repaired something in me. There’s something so joyful and healing about a group of trans lads splashing each other, jumping into the water, and cracking some cold ones with wreckless abandon, top surgery or not.
In talking to other transmasc people over the summer, I’ve realized I’m not alone in this journey of trying to find euphoria at the beach. And it’s no surprise, given how narrow transmasc representation is on screen. But the reality is there are so many ways to be transmasc, experience gender euphoria, and ways water can be so healing in that process.
That’s why we decided to take a group of transmascs to the beach, to tell us about their relationships to their chests, bodies of water, and the euphoria of a T-boy summer. It all came to fruition on a humid Friday morning in Brooklyn, after a group of five transmascs, ready with their beach gear, clammered into a van heading to a historic queer cruising spot in the Bronx Riviera to have a T4T beach day. — Quispe López
Interviews by James Factora. Answers have been edited and condensed.
When was the first time that you went topless at the beach and you felt comfortable?
It was at Riis Beach, and I went with a partner that I had at the time. She actually was the one to take off her top first, and I was just like, ‘Oh my god, we can't be doing that.’ And she said, “Nobody cares. Like look around you.” Then I saw so many other people who looked like myself and also sporting trans flags, big and proud. It made me feel really safe, and when I took off my shirt, it felt very life changing.
Is Riis your beach of choice nowadays?
It is my beach of choice. I live two hours away from it but I still travel. I don't care if I have to take the bus there, if I have to wake up at six in the morning; I'm going. I love it so much. It's the first place that I've felt like I could be myself without having people staring at me, and also feeling comfortable. It's also been really beautiful to bring like different partners and friends to Riis and then watch their confidence blossom as soon as they see all these people that look just like them, living unashamed.
How has your relationship to your chest changed over time?
I still experience chest dysphoria; that doesn't go away, and I have full plans on getting top surgery. But from coming to this understanding of myself and even the confidence that comes with going out and being shirtless — that was something that I never experienced before. It just feels really good to just completely transform from being somebody who's really insecure to now feeling fine, because I know who I am and I know that being trans doesn't look a specific way, either. My identity is still just as valid with a chest or without a chest.
What has your relationship to bodies of water been throughout your life, and how has that changed, if at all, pre and post starting your transition?
I don't really think that there's been a shift pre or post surgery. If anything, I now go to the beach, or the pool and feel more centered in my body. But the water has always felt like a safe space for me and has just continued to show up as a safe space for me as I've progressed in my transition.
What about water makes it a safe space for you?
It's beautiful. It's huge. It's fast. There's something very calming about when you're underwater. It's very quiet, but sound is also magnified. That kind of versatility of water allows for it to be healing in a lot of ways.
What makes you feel like the most euphoric when you’re generally hanging out around water?
The thing that makes me feel most euphoric with having a beach day or a day at the pool is having other trans people there with me. With being around water often comes this like relationship to your body that you have to sort of deal with in one way or another, which is often uncomfortable for trans people. So, I think it feels really euphoric to take a group of us and be in that space and be as comfortable as we can be with ourselves, together, in whatever way that looks, and just enjoy each other's company.
How would you say that gender informs your relationship to water?
As I've gotten further along in my transition, what has really helped me is connecting to a particular Orisha called Olokun. They're a nonbinary, gender ambiguous entity who lives at the bottom of the sea. In moments of feeling unsure or uncomfortable with my body around water, remembering this particular Orisha and calling into them, helps me to feel more grounded, and reminds me that my body is right and allowed to be by the water in whatever way it is.
What has your relationship to water been throughout your life? And how has that changed if at all pre versus during transition, however you'd like to define that.
I personally find water to be healing, not just physically but mentally very cleansing. I let a lot of things go in the water. As I get older, I feel more connected to the water, the sense of freedom. I was supposed to have top surgery in April, and they found a heart condition. So two months ago, I had heart surgery, and I have to heal for six months. And the first thing I did was go to the beach and just throw myself in and float. The ocean brings me calmness, smoothness and a lot of silence.
Why do you think that your connection to water has sort of strengthened over time?
Water has always been my place of release. And every time I release I grow. The ocean has always been a form of company — not just the ocean, a river or a creek, all types of bodies of water. They have always been a companion to me when I felt lonely or sad or frustrated or angry. Like a partner that I could always come back to and it’s always there and receives me well with open arms.
Can you talk a little bit more about your relationship with Riis Beach?
I used to go to Coney Island all the time with my dad. But the first time I went to Riis, I was a teenager, maybe 17, 16. And I found myself feeling seen and accepted as I had never been before, in a space so open with so many different bodies and everybody's just hanging out. Just being in that space makes you feel like, “Oh wow, I exist and I'm here.” I probably had my first kiss with someone I loved there. I probably met one of my best friends there. So it's a lot of community building at Riis. It's like a family gathering. And I left my house at 16; for me, my community's family. So, going to places like that. It really feels just like going to see family and being with family.
What was your relationship to the water pre transition, and how has it changed since then?
Before medically transitioning, I always loved going to the beach and the pool. And as much as I loved that, there was always a layer of anxiety and body shame that came with being a dark skinned fat person at the beach, and also having a large chest that I didn't feel the most comfortable with. But now after getting top surgery, I'm so much more comfortable with the rest of my body just because I feel so much more in my fullness and in myself. And that's been a really wonderful shift — to not be afraid to wear a bikini whereas I never used to wear bikinis before. But now a little bikini bottom moment makes me feel so fun and free.
Wearing feminine clothing as a “transmasc” person feels important because there is this spectrum to trans masculinity. I was one of those people who felt like I had to overcorrect into being very masculine all of the time to feel comfortable in my nonbinariness and feel validated in that, especially when I had a larger chest. Without that, I don't really feel as much of that pressure. I feel so much more comfortable being able to physically present myself in these nonconforming ways because and not feel like I have to subscribe to hypermasculinity.
What about top surgery has led you to feel more comfortable exploring femininity or feminine presentation?
I had a really large chest before surgery, which was very cumbersome and hard to hide. And so I always felt that no matter how masculinely I presented, I was always feminized. There's nothing wrong with being feminine. I love being able to express myself in feminine ways, but I don't feel comfortable being read as a cis woman. So now having gotten top surgery, it feels like I can really play into my gender fluidity more and play into feminine expression more, because I feel more settled and more secure in the masculinity of my body. And that's a fun place to be. The world is a sandbox, and I let go of actual dead weight that was holding me back and giving me back problems and physical pain, and now I'm able to really just run and play and explore more. I feel more like my kid self, you know, like before I grew those huge boobs and I could just run around and play in the dirt and just be free.
What was your relationship to the beach or like other bodies of water pre top surgery and has it changed since then?
So, I'm a surfer. I've been in and around bodies of water for most of my life, specifically the ocean. I also was a varsity swimmer in high school. When I was 19, I was surf instructing, so spending a lot of time in the water and a lot of time around straight cis white dudes, and my uniform is a bikini basically. And I just dissociated. I would never look down. At the same time, it's a really grounding activity for me. So I just wouldn't even think about my chest and that was also still hard because I was binding at the time. And I was very aware of my chest at the same time and the pain and discomfort it brought me. So, it's been like a dream, since I've gotten top surgery, to be able to actually fully be so present and in my body and fully comfortable.
Is surfing still an escape for you?
I run a nonprofit called Benny’s Club and it’s a queer surf collective. It's my top priority because surfing and being in the ocean brings me the greatest joy and sense of self. To be able to share that and to be able to experience that with other people and see people experience that for the first time — if I can help someone else feel the same way that I do and be able to create a relationship with the ocean, that's it for me. And I get to have more friends who do the thing that I love.
Also, the surf environment is so white, especially here out east. As a kid who was afraid of the ocean, it was just so intimidating to feel already unsafe in the ocean, but then to not feel like I had any sense of safety in the people that were around me doing the same thing that I did, even though once I was on a wave and surfing it was euphoria. Obviously there's so much that needs to be done in terms of breaking those barriers to access and whatnot. But to be able to introduce someone to surfing means so much.
Photographer: Alyza Enriquez
Photo Assistant: Mar Alfonso
Groomer: Katie Nishida
Art Director: Wesley Johnson
Editor: Quispé Lopez
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