partner transitioned to a woman, she was met by what was being lost and only then realised how important her heterosexual identity was to her. The other participant spoke about how being in relationships with people who transgressed binary notions of sex and gender validated her own sense of being a queer woman. Two other people spoke about how they


did not wish to be positioned in regards to how others may perceive their sexuality based on their relationship status and choices. One reported that her sexual orientation was not a particularly signifi cant part of her identity (this appeared to be the case for a further participant, yet this was not explicitly stated). The other participant spoke about wanting to reject sexual orientation identity labels all together.


My sexuality and your gender: complimentary or contradictions? Whether participants’ sexual identities


complemented, or contradicted, their partners’ gender identities was also a topic featured in several people’s narratives. Four out of the six women voiced identities that were not based on ‘same/opposite’ notions of gender and sexuality, such as pansexual or queer. This could be viewed as a relational strategy employed to navigate the landscape of shifting bodies and gender as well as an attempt to avoid both invalidation and invisibility. These narratives are discussed in more detail below. However, the other two of the women maintained heterosexual identities in the context of being in relationships with trans women. One of these women reported this was uncomplicated and there was space in her relationship for this aspect of herself without it invalidating her partner’s identity as a woman. Yet, for the other participant, her identity as a heterosexual woman was diffi cult for her partner, who she reported wished her to claim a lesbian identity.


Refl ections In considering how these women spoke


about their identities, I was reminded about how often language fails us (Gergen, 2009). How, as soon as a word leaves our lips, it can often become lost in translation. What a word means to me is diff erent from how you understand it; the assumptions and discourses we draw on to make sense of ourselves in relation to others can sometimes draw us together, but can sometimes create distance between us. I am also struck by


42


how language, being socially constructed, is constantly evolving, how as individuals we can claim power and autonomy in the way we use, or reject, words, labels and identities (Gergen, 2009). Trans people and their partners are in an excellent position to ‘queer’ language; to transgress and challenge discourses of gender and sexuality by using the power of words. I am also left thinking about the


relationship between identity and experience. How it is often assumed the identity terms we embrace result in assumptions being made about our experiences. Yet, for these women, the identity terms they claimed, or rejected, had a variety of meanings and signifi cances to them. The variety of experiences the women spoke of in terms of their relationships with identities demonstrates that, as Plumber (1995) argues, in a postmodern world there are no meta- narratives, but rather these women created narratives of their own.


You in relation to me: The body I specifi cally chose not to ask questions


about physical interventions, such as hormones or surgeries that the transitioning partners may have embarked on, or be waiting to receive, but followed this up if participants introduced the topic themselves. Stories of changing bodies were present in many of the participants talk.


Pleasure and loss Several participants spoke about aspects


of their sexual relationships they felt had been lost, or feared they would lose in the future, in the context of their partners’ decisions regarding physical intervention. These aspects of change were reported as being experienced as losses often in the content of pleasure. Two participants spoke of the impact of


hormones on their sexual relationships. One woman, partnered with a trans man, drew on gendered discourses of male sexuality (Hollway, 1984) in detailing how she felt testosterone had altered the way her partner related to her sexuality. She positioned testosterone as ‘the bad guy’, with both her partner and herself as ‘victims’ to it. She cited this change in their sexual relationship as a major factor in their relationship coming to an end. The changes that oestrogen had on one of the trans women’s bodies was also experienced as a loss by her partner. She detailed how


her partner’s body felt ‘smaller’, ‘neater’, ‘softer’ and ‘more delicate’ to her, whereas previously she had occupied this relational position in their partnership. She found herself craving contact with men who were bigger than her, despite the fact her partner had not changed in size. In the context of trans healthcare, surgical


interventions are often referred to as ‘top’ and ‘lower’, or sometimes ‘bottom’, surgeries. ‘Top surgery’ refers to surgical procedures to alter the chest or breast tissue. This can involve enhancement, reduction or removal of the tissue altogether depending on the individual’s birth-assigned sex and the results they desire. ‘Lower surgery’ refers to a range of procedures involving the genitals. In today’s more ‘customer’ driven healthcare, and advancements in medical science, the range of available procedures is vast and does not necessarily mean the (complete) removal of the genitals one already has. The prospect of lower surgery was spoken


about in contrasting ways by participants, with this diff erence being located in pleasure. One of the participants detailed how signifi cant providing sexual pleasure for each other was for both her and her partner, and how the potential of lower surgery posed a threat to this. A diff erent participant, partnered with a trans woman, spoke of how the prospect of lower surgery was not a concern for her as penetrative sex was not a site of pleasure within their sexual repertoire, with other activities holding more importance. A further participant discussed her feelings of loss regarding her partner’s planned top surgery. She discussed a variety of activities she was using to process and also celebrate this loss; therapy and also a party she was planning for her partner. It was important for this participant that she had space to address her needs and emotions so that she was able to support her partner through their surgery.


Refl ections In thinking about bodies and sexuality


I was struck by the discourses that were present in these women’s talk; how testosterone was given such a powerful role, a narrative that is often employed so men do not have to take responsibility for their sexual behaviours. In contrast to dominant narratives of male sexuality, I was also struck by the central role women’s sexual pleasure had in these stories. How discourses of sexuality often privilege men’s sexual desire


Context 155, February 2018


Narratives of sexuality and intimacy in the partners of trans people


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