I’m Struggling With a Whole New Set of Standards Since Transitioning

When it comes to affairs of the heart, we are all beginners. Some of us, however, at least speak with authority. Introducing Shon Faye, author of The Transgender Issue (2021) and the forthcoming Love in Exile (2025), whose advice caught our eye. Contact her at DearShonVogue@gmail.com for your own chance at enlightenment.

Dear Shon,

As a confident, averagely attractive woman, I used to be able to walk into a bar and, usually, hook up with whichever man I wanted. I enjoyed having a lot of guys want to date me.

I transitioned a few years ago, and I’m now living as a non-binary boy. I look like the femme boy of my dreams growing up! Transitioning has been better than I ever could have imagined, improving my health, my life, and relationships.

The problem is, I know the world at large finds me much less attractive. While in the gay club people often compliment my outfits, it takes a lot more work to hook up. And dating apps (other than grindr) are almost a complete dead zone. I’m certainly not what most gay men are looking for. While I know as well as anyone the many perils of living as a woman, I do miss entering a whole room of people attracted to me!

Sometimes I think I could put in work to meet gay beauty standards better (work out more, shave when I’m dressing femme), but it doesn’t feel worth it, as I’ll still be pretty low down the desirability ranking regardless. And also I like how I look!

My life has changed a lot since the time I feel selectively nostalgic for. I’m in my 30s rather than 20s, my health has taken a hit, and I party considerably less than I used to. While in most ways I’m also the most stable, happy, and successful I’ve ever been, these parts of growing up have probably impacted my desirability too. Perhaps this is just another bit of growing up.

Should I just take the wins in all other areas of my life and try to let my desire to be generally desired go?

Nostalgic

Dear Nostalgic,

Being desired. It’s hard to be honest about what it means to us. We’re taught desire is something you should effortlessly command but never be seen to crave or, worse, actively work for. We repeat that it is meaningless, despite the fact that there are multi-billion dollar industries built around it. And we profess, particularly if we are feminists, to never enjoy the feeling of being hot, despite the fact that patriarchy and consumerism train us to equate it with self-esteem. The truth is, there are two things going on in your case. Firstly, you once participated in desirability politics by being read by men as a young straight woman i.e., as a highly desired subject in our culture. And now you’re a trans and feminine guy in gay contexts where the perceived sexual hierarchy is very different. Secondly, you are older and this also changes how desirability works.