Autogynephilia Has Entered The White Lotus

Let’s talk about it.

“I’d look in her eyes while some guy was fucking me, and I’d think: I am her, and I am fucking me.”

The scene is all I can think about since I finished the latest episode of The White Lotus. I don’t remember much else from the episode, especially since the ‘climax’ of the incestuous gay brothers’ molly trip was a kiss – SNOOZE!

As Rick’s friend, Frank, began to recount his autogynephilic rabbit hole, I was entranced. I turned over every word in my mind as they spilled from his mouth, a seemingly neverending spiral of erotic self-loathing that only lasted a few minutes. I swallowed the monologue like a jagged stone. It tasted like filth.

I've never seen autogynephilia represented on television, not seriously, and definitely not on a major platform. The only other example I've seen is Envy/Desire, a so-bad-it's-terrible short film by two chronically online alt-right trans girls. Girlies, let this be a lesson: just because Sean Baker can film a movie on an iPhone doesn't mean you can too!

Suffice it to say I was gagged when Frank shared his dirty little Asian sissy fantasies, and in true Mike White fashion, looked taboo right in the eye. For the uninitiated, autogynephilia (AGP) is "a male's propensity to be sexually aroused by the thought or image of himself as female." The term was coined in the 1980s by the crackpot sexologist Ray Blanchard as one side of a typology explaining transgender identity. The other half, "homosexual transsexuals" (can I get that on a bumper sticker?), refers to effeminate males exclusively attracted to men. In contrast, AGPs tend to be straight or bisexual men pre-transition.

While few deny the fetish exists, scientists have debunked Blanchard's claim that it causes transgender identity. Yet 40 years later, he still champions his pseudoscience as truth. A reminder for when you're insecure about an idea – embody the delusional confidence of a balding white man.

I first learned about autogynephilia reading Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters on a family cruise. The book follows Ames (formerly Amy), a detransitioned former lesbian struggling with his relationship to desire and identity. Like Frank, Ames "didn't have to take the test to know what he was: a fetishist, a pervert."

When I read this, I hadn't transitioned yet but was considering it. I consumed trans literature like gospel, hoping to find my identity hidden in the pages, desperately seeking an epiphany where everything would finally make sense. I left with more questions than answers.

Though I only began questioning my gender in adulthood, it haunted my childhood. In kindergarten, a boy I had a crush on (though I didn't realize it yet) asked why I had a girly book bag. He pointed to flowers stitched around a picture of Scooby Doo. It was a boy's book bag, but that day, I asked for a new one without flowers.

Years later, I dreaded the middle school bus. A Bulgarian boy with whom I shared a fragile friendship as outsiders (foreign, gay) discovered he could win favor among the other boys by mocking my high-pitched, prepubescent voice. It sparked a chorus of laughter and a pit of shame in me every time. When I told my dad in tears, his advice was to threaten to punch him in the face. Yes, I did, and yes, I felt Bhadd afterward. But the mockery continued – another boy pointed at my legs and joked about how hairless they were. A third boy, who got off at the same stop as me, waited for the bus to pull away before pushing me to the ground and saying he was going to tell everyone I tried to suck his dick.

These emasculating rituals are my most poignant middle school memories. Even my dad's helpful advice was essentially telling me to handle it like a man. Constantly force-fed the message that I wasn't man enough, I sexualized my gendered humiliation in the horniness of puberty. I jerked off at the thought of myself sucking my neighbor’s dick and jerked off again at the thought of him telling the whole school. I don't think this experience is unique – how many porn videos are titled "straight jock fucks submissive twink" – millions? I've seen y'alls Twitter bookmarks.

These experiences evolved as I matured. I suppose I suffered from autogynephilia, though I never fit Blanchard's model because I was not attracted to women. During the pandemic, I bought a second-hand pleated schoolgirl skirt – my first piece of women's clothing that was actually mine. I only wore it privately, which was ironic since I sent dozens of photos to men on Grindr. I didn't harbor the same shame as many 'straight men' with these fantasies, but it remained deeply private (again, minus the hundreds of randos I sexted.)

I never overthought the paraphilia. Many people have fetishes, and, on the scale of missionary to scat, fantasizing about oneself as a girl is relatively mild. Only after learning about autogynephilia as a concept did I see my erotic self-image in a harsh new light. At the time, I struggled with pathological doubt, an OCD symptom characterized by extreme discomfort with ambiguity. An unfortunate mentality for someone considering transition – something no one can decide for you, though they'll try.

Blue light straining my eyes, I spent hours compulsively scrolling r/askAGP and r/detrans as psychological self-harm, collecting evidence for why I wasn't actually trans – just another sexually deluded pervert. Let me break the fourth wall for a second: steer clear of those forums. Like many subreddits, they're circle jerks of self-hatred – thousands crippled by shame seeking validation from thousands more equally crippled.

While these forums gave no clarity, Detransition, Baby offered an explanation: "Of course, women are turned on by being women and men turned on by being men! Watch any porn, and the sexuality of everyone in it is actually about their own auto-andro/gyne-philia. Listen to them talk. It’s all about validating their own gender. Oh yeah, I’m your little slut…"

Simply put, it's not shocking that trans women fantasize about being women. The explanation tracks with my experience – the fantasies stopped post-transition. Now I just imagine getting fucked as me, probably because estrogen has connected my body to my self-image. I recognize this now, unshackled from my paralyzing doubt, indecision, and shame.

But many people – trans and cis – still struggle with identity because of how we pathologize sex. Our delulu king Ray Blanchard, who unfortunately has not died yet, tweeted about the White Lotus scene: "Since 2003, political trans activists and their 'allies' have done everything they could to prevent the word and the concept of autogynephilia from entering public awareness." Girl, people don't discuss it because it's intimate and stigmatized. Should we debate pig play at the presidential debate next?

The concept of sissies and crossdressers isn't exactly novel. I get countless Grindr messages from CD Cynthia🍑 in Amazon Basics polyester lingerie asking if I want to paint our nails and parTy. Still, I was ecstatic to see autogynephilia in prime time – enough to write this essay.

Blanchard's error is conflating trans people's unwillingness to be characterized as sexual perverts with resistance to the concept itself. His underlying thesis – that all trans women are depraved men in dresses – has never been empirically supported. That's why J.K. Rowling retweets him and why his tinfoil pseudoscience isn't taken seriously.

The theory isn't just unsubstantiated; it's tinder for the self-doubt many trans people carry, giving confused closet cases like my former self reason to disbelieve. So to Dr. Blanchard, I say: let's talk about it – not confined to self-immolating Reddit forums and TERF Twitter threads, but in the open plains of prestige television, where everyone can see. The White Lotus is open for business, and even your dirtiest secrets have checked in.