Boys with Vaginas Do It Well
01 | Opening words from a trans man exploring sex, desire, and the body
Content note: This column contains adult, provocative, and sexually explicit material.
Call me Calen. I insist.
But not really. As a trans man who’s had the rare privilege of choosing his own given name, the concept has lost all meaning to me.
Call me a chair. Come sit.
First things first: when did I realize I was trans? At the ripe age of 25—no, really. It took me that long to accept the reality knocking on my subconscious. Much like sexuality, your brain’s relationship with your body comes preloaded. You can will it different all you want, but life, once given, isn’t really a choice.
Thinking back to my childhood, was there ever a moment I wondered? No, most kids don’t think about their bodies. They simply experience them.
I spent more than a quarter of my estimated lifespan carrying a weight that scraped away at my mind, organs, and nerves. The reflection in the mirror kept yelling: Fucking insane.
But there must have been a moment, right? Yes and no. I do remember being in my (very) early teens and experiencing the headiest of orgasms while imagining taking a woman from behind. And not with a strap-on, or my fingers.
Most people think of gender norms when the subject of trans people comes up, which is like plunking down on the floor of Plato’s cave to watch a blurry shadow play.
I can tell you now: you could wrap my muscled chest in a dress, slap some glitter on my eyelids, paint my nails real bright, and I’d still be happy as a clam.
The reason? I’ve been on testosterone for years, and my brain has stopped trying to kill my body—quite literally. I’ve got the damaged digestive system to prove it.
And let me tell you, life on the other side is a phantasmagoria of experiences. Some, like (bi)sex, put my body back together with bone-breaking pleasure. Others—like letting go of men always intruding on my personal space, or women projecting and scowling at me in elevators—are exhausting beyond belief.
I’m here to walk you along the fine line between sexes. Men have no idea what it means to navigate the world with a female body, and women have no idea what it’s like to operate as a man in society—both psychologically and emotionally.
I’m here to shatter some minds. And, in the name of dismantling the oddly sanitized and warped trans narratives out there, I’ll be sharing my body with you. Get ready to feel uncomfortable. Or maybe just mildly aroused.
I’ll be your ghost. Call me Casper.
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