I think, personally, the importance lies with how we understand what ‘coming out’ is as a process. The phrase itself can often be fuelled by more fear than found freedom because the term ‘out’ can imply a door you have to open that swings shut the moment you step out. That isolation can feel scary. I learned how to use language solely for myself. I swapped ‘coming out’ for ‘coming in.’ That way I could centre myself in this poignant and monumental moment. I often think about coming out into two separate parts: the coming out process I had internally with myself, which was an emancipation through having multiple conversations (sometimes arguments) with my body and spirit—which felt like coming home within myself. The second is the coming out process in which the “goal” was to articulate who I was to others. This part is often pushed as the most important, but I truly think coming into yourself and coming out to yourself and coming to terms with new futures and options for yourself is truly where you find freedom.

I urge everybody to ensure they are ready for it—to even question if you are doing it because you feel you would like to or if you feel you have to. Constantly check in with yourself to make sure this is something you are consenting to. Alongside that, I think it’s important to have a circle of people around you that can support you in this, whether it be emotional support whilst doing it, someone to call after, someone to read queer theories with, or someone to hug and hold if you don’t feel supported or seen in that moment.

Community and chosen family can really come through when biological family dynamics can’t—lean on one another!

When I came out, I lost a lot. It meant, in turn, that my queerness was always something I would have to navigate through a lens of compromise. Now I wish I stuck to my non-negotiables when coming out. You don’t have to answer questions, you don’t have to sit there whilst someone questions you, you don’t have to wait and be patience and deal with abuse whilst people are ‘coming to terms’ with your identity, you don’t have to defend your sexuality or gender or presentation, you don’t have to feel like you have the answers and can give them to others. You can feel scared, you can feel exhausted, you can feel cheated for having to even go through this process. Sometimes it is engulfed in joy and sometimes it isn’t—both are okay.

Go where it's warm. It might not be the friends and family you started with, but community can hold you like nothing else. Just remind yourself there can only be room for others if first there is room for you.

Coming out is one of the most nerve wracking things on the planet. If you’re going through this right now, I feel for you. As difficult as it was, I feel like I came out on the other side more understood and loved than ever. Above all else, keep in mind that the cis and straight people in your life never had to come out to you, so you certainly do not owe anyone a proclamation of your identity. If coming out is something that you want to do and deem safe to do, then I think it can be amazing and freeing. There is truly nothing worse than keeping parts of yourself hidden, especially from the ones you love most. I am no expert, but I will share with you the process and steps I took when coming out and coming to terms with my sexuality and gender.

I recommend being real with yourself on whether or not it is safe to come out.

If you’re worried it might affect your physical safety, housing, or financial stability, then it’d be best to pinpoint at least one person in your life you absolutely know is safe to talk to and start there. This could be a best friend, a therapist, or even a trusted guidance counselor. This person hopefully understands your circumstances and may be able to help you figure out the best steps to take.

The first person I ever told I was queer was a newer friend who had come out to me a couple weeks prior. It was one summer in high school, and this new friend of mine was a girl in a couple of my classes at music camp. I felt safe around her because I related to her in a way I hadn’t yet with my friends back home. I never even told my new friend that she was the first person I came out to, though she probably had some sort of idea, as it seemed almost every day there was some new nugget of queer culture she had to catch me up on following a I-can’t-believe-you’ve-never-heard-of-this gasp. We spent that summer updating my wardrobe, following my new favorite queer and trans icons, and catching up on tv and movies. I also spent those weeks contemplating how and when I would tell my friends and family at home about the summer I had, and introduce them to the new person I felt I was becoming. I ultimately settled on waiting until it felt like the right time, which I was convinced would never present itself, but eventually did, each at different times with the people I loved most in my life.

Visualize feeling love and belonging while being the most open version of yourself. Allow the power of that vision to give you the courage to share that part of yourself with your friends and family. Regardless of how they respond, you’ll know you’ve overcome fear and honored the most authentic vision you have for your life. I love that for you!

That loving us teaches so much about love. Love should be a place of growth, of self exploration, of resisting what doesn’t feel comfortable, of transcending rules. Love must always be a place of making warm in the freezing, bringing light in the pitch black.

Aren’t trans people those who understand all of this most? Haven’t we had to do unheard things to love ourselves loudly and publicly whilst everyone is staring? Aren’t trans people most equipped in knowing how to love because we have had to find so much of it in hate?

Isn’t it funny that after all we have been put through, we could scream so loud all the leaves would fall off every tree in the land, and yet, instead we choose to sing something sweet enough to encourage everything to grow? How could you not love someone with a super power like mine?

I get emotional talking about trans love and dating, because the intentional act of dating T4T (trans for trans) has allowed me to feel unconditional love and consideration like never before. Trans love is sacred, it is a love that makes you aware of astronomical possibilities and ethereal connection. It is a rare connection with someone that surpasses the physical part of dating, it looks deeper.

We are given the beautiful opportunity to not only see the fullness of our trans partners but also simultaneously experience an unpacking and redefining of gender and gender expression for ourselves. It is truly magical.

Dating in general is hard. Most of my life I tried to fast forward through it as much as possible, but I have landed in a beautiful place as a trans person in a relationship with a trans person. There is an ease in trans dating that allows for genuine connection, a space where one does not have to prove their existence to be considered a suitable partner. Trans dating looks like the freedom from unnecessary labor of helping someone figure out their sexuality in regards to our gender identity. Trans dating alleviates the experience of having to disprove unkind assumptions. Instead, we just get to be, exist as a person. Though there are still very real human moments of self negativity or self doubt that will arise because of internalized phobias and isms, Trans dating still offers a unique understanding and love. When you are cared for or loved by a person, who comes from a community deemed unsuitable or unlovable, you will experience a love and a relationship that is gonna be fought for, that is gonna have effort, that is going to be whole. A relationship that feels like family.

In an attempt to not be obviously esoteric, I think one of the biggest problems I come across, dating as a black trans woman, is people's misinformation or blatant ignorance around trans women. About our bodies, our surgeries, pronouns, identifiers, our history.

I've spent so much time teaching and workshopping potential partners, and

I wish everyone just came properly educated and polished. I wish people knew love for trans people with no hesitance or need for explanation/justification.

I think people overthink it!

Love and intimacy is all the same, no matter what form it comes in.

That not all love has to include cisgender people, trans for trans love exists and is beautiful.

There are so many ways to be trans. Everyone’s journey is so different— there’s not one blueprint to follow. At the end of the day, all trans people need and deserve love and support despite the differences amongst us. The best advice I could give someone dating a trans person, especially if they’re cisgender, is to explore their own gender. I’m not saying they need to realize they’re also trans, but

understand how your gender (cis or trans) plays a role in your identity.

My fiancée is a cisgender woman, not by default, but by exploring her own gender alongside my journey.

I love this question for so many beautiful reasons. As a person who has experienced both sides, it is great that we are acknowledging the fullness of this evolving process. Beyond the physical, your partner is probably experiencing a lot of mental shifts, too. The number one thing is to be aware of their actions, speech, and reactions toward their body before you share your own, no matter how positive, negative, or concerned.

Trans people are some of the most self-aware folks on earth because society forces us to constantly scan our presence. When your trans partner tells you something about their body, whether direct or to themselves out loud, it is their truth. Having been in mostly T4T (trans for trans) relationships, there have been many moments of learning and listening.

As you navigate having a trans partner, it’s normal to want to affirm them as much as possible, use the correct term, make sure your partner knows that they are loved, found attractive, etc. While the sentiment and effort is appreciated, at times it leaves no room for our trans partner to feel full, stripping them of the process or experience of being an evolving human. Let your partner take the lead by inviting them to tell you the things that give them joy or make them feel comfortable and then follow after.

For example, there have been moments in my current relationship or past where I tried to show my trans partner love or uplift them, but ended up affirming their bodies in ways they weren’t aligned with. I’ve learned it is their choice whether they want to accept that affirmation as positive or not. That agency not only includes what they can physically do with their bodies, but how they feel about them, and those feelings can change overtime.

The best way we can navigate a relationship that will forever move—that will stay fluid as one grows and unpacks—is to act as a cushion.

Be a place to rest from societal pressures, a place to fall if internal expectations aren’t met, or just a safe place to sit and express or experiment with versions of their best selves. And when we start to recognize positive patterns or moments where we are in sync with our partner, that is the moment (with PERMISSION) to affirm, give positive feedback, or bring up genuine concern (if need be) about your partner’s body. The trust has been built. A foundation has been laid to invite you into yet another level of themselves.

You support and love them, period! Whether you’re trans or not, we all know the feeling of being at odds with our body, leading us to re-learn and re-examine.

Having someone help create that space for you to comfortably explore these feelings and still be received as desirable or sexy is so pivotal.

I’ve been blessed with a man that really loves and holds me down. In the beginning of my transition when nothing of my body made sense to me, my partner would come home and share his readings and new findings on gender theory and praxis (which means to put theory into practice). This really stretched and challenged what I conceived as possible.

Having someone invested in finding the language to help me describe what I was experiencing shaped the trajectory of my transition. I may not have felt comfortable in my neighborhood or classrooms, but knew home in someone that reflected and held me. And I hope you’re able to do the same for your partner how they need it.

Relearn with them.
Offer tools and praxis.
Do the research.
Give space. And don’t ask your partner to define things they may not have answers, experience or language for yet.

It’s moving, affirming and encouraging to have someone that is willing to actively prove their investment in your life, well being, and identity.

Recognize that it’s your partner’s journey and you kinda just need to be their number one supporter. They’re gonna have some good days, some bad days, and some days where they don’t even think about it. So you just need to learn to be patient with them.

I’m forever grateful for my fiancée and how she gave me the safest of spaces to explore my gender and body. She was there for me every step of the way. I’ll never forget the day I finally told her I wanted top surgery. She just held me as I cried in her arms. I was so relieved to finally admit it to myself and take that first step towards gender affirmation.

She supported me while I fought with my insurance. She drove me to all of my pre and post op appointments. She watched YouTube videos with me of other peoples’ experiences. She emptied my drains and even wiped my butt that first week after my top surgery. She gave me exactly what I needed in those moments. She gave me space to breathe and to learn things on my own, but was also right next to me helping me get through some of the heavier moments.

I got pretty lucky with my fiancée, the perfect example of caring for a partner’s evolving relationship to their body, but my top surgery didn’t have the “perfect” results so many expect. Part of my journey became navigating voices from other people and their opinions of how my scars look. Before surgery, I knew I was prone to healing with keloid scars (raised scars from an overproduction of collagen in the body). They pose no health risk and are purely a matter of aesthetics. However, people online can be ignorant. They assume that my surgeon must have botched my surgery (which is wildly untrue, because she did an incredible job contouring my chest). My fiancée helped me filter out this unnecessary criticism. She helped me research keloid specific scar care and at the end of the day, just embraced my top surgery results because they were, and are, my top surgery results.

Patience is its own form of love.

Don’t take certain things personally when your partner has a day or week or month where they don’t want to be intimate because their gender dysphoria is so bad. It’s important you create a safe space where they feel they can communicate that with you.

This is such a layered question and something that is forever changing especially in our community, but you are definitely not alone in this!!! I think as queer people we come out everyday. And on some of those days, we might be introducing ourselves in a way that feels scary or nerve wracking or uncomfortable, but I think that’s the part that can change. As you become more confident and more sure of yourself, your perspective will shift on coming out.

I would change this question to, “Will I ever feel like I can stop being uncomfortable when I come out?” and to that I will say yesss.

I challenge you to start exploring the beautiful things that happen when you introduce your most genuine self to new folks or those you haven’t seen in a while. Yes, it won’t be all peaches and cream, but when it is a good first impression or rekindling—when it is a good connection—you will see the joy that is brought out in people privileged enough to meet and get to know the full you. It’s the same joy you bring yourself through once again coming out.

No.

Honestly, I’ve had a loooooot of time to think about this question. It hits me when I’m on stage and I see so many wonderful, young, queer people in the audience. Especially when someone in the crowd comes out during the show (which has actually happened before).

These moments remind me that I’m endlessly coming out and my gender is ever-changing.

There are some days where I’m like, “Let’s get these curves out to play,” There are other days where I’d prefer if there were no parts on my body at all. Just blank.

So, no, I don’t think you ever stop coming out, but isn’t that kind of beautiful? Maybe you’re like me and your gender is fluid. Maybe you’ve gotten older and realized something about yourself. Or, maybe the only thing that’s new is terminology that you didn’t have as a kid and you’re thinking, “Wait a second, that feels like me! I didn’t have that word, or phrase, or community, but now I do.” The trick is to be gentle with ourselves about all these changes.

P.S: Isn’t coming out just also….so weird? You’re basically saying, “Hey, family and friends, I wanna be intimate with this type of person.” Straight people don’t have to do that, it’s just implied. Gender also makes it even crazier.

I feel, with this question, I can hear how tired you are already. Like the dot on the question mark is trying to keep itself up but it is just so tired of telling someone their pronouns, having to explain their gender, or make clear to another person that they really do fancy many more genders than one. That tiredness is real. Coming out is tiring. Sometimes we just don’t want to do it, and that is ok.

I’ve found, in a world that makes assumptions of what is normal and what is not, those of us that fit outside of certain boxes will have to come out a lot. And in my life I've had to do it a lot. At home, at work, when I start a new job, at the airport, to doctors, time and time again.

But if that feels a bit out of my control right now, I try and think of what I can gain from it. What meeting yourself so many times in a week, or year, or lifetime can bring.

Coming out, in whatever way that may mean, equals knowing who you are—in that specific moment—enough to say it. And although that can be tiring, I simultaneously find beauty in re-meeting myself so many times throughout my life. The cycle of coming out also lets me decide that I am who I am, and check in and change if I want to.

Love this question. Even though I’m already out, I still “come out” pretty often. I love sharing that side of my life—just not all the time.

I first came out because I didn’t want to always have to worry. I was a dancer in school—jazz, tap, ballet, hip hop, everything. All it took was for someone to hear “ballet” to assume I was gay. I walked on eggshells trying to avoid giving them another reason to think it or say it. So, for me, I just had to come out to live my fullest life. As I mention in my song, FIRST HELLO, it was a new beginning. I was finally able to experience joys that only existed in a world where I was out.

These days, it’s more of a want to keep coming out. Every time I do, it gives someone else the chance to, just like another artist did for me. But does that mean I want to come out to every stranger that asks if my date is my friend?

Do I always have the energy to unpack other people’s assumptions of my life? Yeah, that might be my friend, but why would you assume that?

You may never feel like you can stop coming out, and that can be a blessing in disguise. Your pride can inspire the same in others. But remember— it’s a privilege to see that side of you and it’s okay to protect your energy.

I think when talking to someone who is trans, especially if you’re trying to engage with them romantically, language is so important. Like, literally cannot emphasize that enough.

Very frankly, I know often we (trans people, and more specifically trans women) are taken out of our bodies by the language that people use to engage with us. And by that I mean limited or uniformed language that can easily trigger body dysmorphia or gender dysphoria in trans people.

I’m thinking about every time I’ve been out and a man has stopped me in the middle of a club and asked me if I play any sports or if I’m in the WNBA or encouraged me to pursue such a career.

I remember one time I was at a Dominican spot; and while I give very Dominican spanish mami fly I do not speak Spanish well or really at all. Anyway, I’m walking through this crowd of people towards the bar and all these men are trying to get at me. I can’t understand anything anyone is saying. But what I can make out is that this man just called me, “La Grande,” which immediately translates to, “The Big One.” To which someone added, “Damn that’s a big ass girl.” I think that was the only thing I understood from anyone that spoke to me that night.

And it took me out of my body almost immediately. Now I’m overly aware that I am not only the tallest bitch in the room and can see over everyone’s head, but I’m also the only trans woman here.

I guess what I’m saying is there are nuances in language that are important to keep in mind, especially when interacting with people who don’t have the same lived experiences as you.

It’s really important for me to know from a romantic partner, even if it's early stages or super casual flirting, to know that I’m seen. My visibility and my respect are big parts of my safety, and I think that’s true for every black trans woman.

And when I talk about the visibility of trans people, I do not mean tangible vision.
I know you see us
I know I’m the tallest girl in the room.

But I need to know you see me enough to respect me.
You see my identity my intersections my boundaries my truth my flaw my beauty.
That you understand me enough to engage with me in a way that affirms me.

If I don't have that, I cut the conversation short.
Every time a man has used the “do you play sports” line,
I promise they did not get any more
than a head nod from me
That man that yelled “la grande” at me?
I did not miss a beat in walking away from him.

I guess in all, I think people aren’t used to or taught to engage with trans people the same way we are cis folk. The trans community, especially in a romantic lens, aren’t and haven’t been spoonfed and almost commercialized to masses the same way cis gendered people and heteronormativity has. And because of that there is definitely a shift in language and boundaries. The things that affirm and excite us are a little bit different.

I knew I was nonbinary way before I had the vocabulary to name it. During my freshman (and only) year of college, I spent most of my free time writing poems about feeling disconnected to my body. I changed my hair and wardrobe (what felt like) daily, exchanging the feminine staples of my closet with ugly sweaters and bulky jackets from the men's section of the thrift store. However, tweaks of external presentation ultimately didn’t make me feel validated as a trans person. What it really came down to was how the people I cared about the most were recognizing me. I started to get a really big crush on a person who went to a college a couple hours away, they were also nonbinary. They were surrounded by many more trans people at school and in life than I had ever been, so flirting was nothing new to them. They complimented me with words such as “handsome” instead of “beautiful” and “attractive” as opposed to “pretty” or “cute.”

Like learning a new language, I figured out what made me feel my most confident and appreciated.

When I can tell people are unsure of how to flirt with me or compliment me, I start by asking them what their favorite compliments are. I ask whether they like to be called “pretty” “attractive” or “sexy” and encourage them to ask me the same. It never hurts to ask questions that may seem so silly or elementary when getting to know someone new.

Dating is full of assumptions, right? We click. We look. We try to come up with a witty question response. We click. We match. We hope this time it feels great. We try again. All whilst making a lot of assumptions, crossing our fingers we find someone who makes whatever part of our brain act all loved up switch on.

Does this person’s pose look like he will want to move to the country with me in four years?
Does this guy's shirt colour say that he may vote for the local governor I don’t really vibe with?
Do we think this person smiles like someone who may want to dance all night with me on a Thursday?

We all make assumptions. We can try to limit them and catch them before they turn into slippery criticisms—but we still will make them. Some maybe are rooted in experience (yes, I've found a particular clothing brand really does mean this guy probably won’t vote the same as you in the election). But other times, those assumptions are rooted in fear and speculation. Sometimes, you don’t catch them in time and they suddenly spill all over the table at a sticky bar you have taken your trans date to because it is near the gym you may or may not work out in after.

Let me set the scene.

We are at the sticky bar.
He is wearing his gym kit. (insert red flag emoji)
I try and talk about music, new shows, the big, major meme going viral right now.
Every time he answers a question, he brings it back to my transness.
Not in an overtly awful way. He made it clear (ten times) that he supports trans people.
But all I did was ask about his favourite show?
I try to steer the conversation to something that doesn’t sound like a gender studies university essay, but he wants to talk about it all.
I pluck up the courage to say, “Hey, can we talk about something that isn’t gender?”
He looks horrified with probably a hint of shame. And genuine sadness as I feel he thought he was doing a job.
He replies, “I’m sorry, I just thought you may want to talk about it cus, you know….”

Comfort is a weird one. I don’t think dating will always feel comfortable. Eating in front of a date for the first time at an Italian restaurant will never feel good to me. Trying to fumble through conversations until you find the spark. Deciding whether or not to lean in for the kiss. It’s not always a comfortable experience.

I can only speak for myself, but as a trans person I'm not expecting dating to be full of comfort all the time. When it comes to my transness, and dating, I would say the biggest takeaway is not to assume what we may need or want.

There is no blanket rule. Trans people are a pretty diverse group. If you do not have the experience of dating us, try not to create an idea based off of those assumptions. Ultimately, our deserving of love and care is too often left out of the conversation about our lives. Think about you, as your own person, who also deserves love and care—and think about what you would like on a date, and how you may feel. I find, when we are lost, starting with ourselves and empathy is a good place to begin. Ask, don’t assume. And uh, maybe don’t wear a gym kit on the first date!

Woah, that’s such a good and important question. I think it starts with recognizing what toxic masculinity actually is and actively making conscious decisions everyday to not fall into that pressure. Presenting masculine as a way to affirm one’s gender expression doesn’t need to include the toxic traits that society can associate with “being a man.”

When I’m getting dressed or cutting my hair, I’m looking at those things as surface level as I can. The clothes are just fabric that affirm my gender expression. I don’t take on any new persona or qualities or traits when I put those clothes on. I just feel comfortable in my skin and identity and that’s the extent of it.

I can understand why some masc-presenting queer people can find themselves stuck in the stereotypes of “manhood.”

I know from firsthand experience that sometimes it feels like it’s the only way to be taken seriously. Sometimes, it feels safer to portray a version of masculinity that you’ve seen before.

Unpack what masculinity means to you. The answer to that question might help you uncover some subconscious ideas while also bringing you a better understanding of your own gender expression.

This question makes me think about who I was growing up—how I acted, how I moved. I didn’t know how to present myself through clothing, so I often felt restricted in my expression. Not knowing how to dress made trips to the mall hard. Standing between sections at stores felt like I was literally being asked to decide—to choose who I wanted to be. I didn’t know how to (or want to) handle that. By the time I got to high school, my masc side manifested itself in this like, almost “agro” way of walking and talking.

When I moved away for college and started meeting people and dating, there was kind of this moment when I started really seeking out who I wanted to be, clothing wise, instead of just doing what I thought I was supposed to.

Picking what I wanted to wear became a daily ceremony. “What am I going to put on this body to make myself feel okay?”

As I started to accept that I could present as masculine, my femininity emerged. And that had entirely to do with being more playful through clothing. My friends and I would get together and play dress up, putting on whatever felt right. It showed me that dressing like a boy doesn’t mean you have to act like a fool. I’ve been very lucky to have a community of like, straight and queer people who get that.

The tea is that this world is hard, and we’re all just trying to figure things out. When it comes to gender and dating, it gets even harder. Clothes can be your armor. So, If you’re someone who’s stuck between aisles hoping they don’t get it wrong: embrace play within companionship. Find people who don’t judge you for not knowing who you are yet and ask them to play dress up—literally! For me, dressing up counteracted that toxic masculinity that all butch non-binary, and trans people have to fight against. Besides, isn’t this presentation thing all dress up and drag, anyway.

For many, the holidays are filled with parties, events, and many intentional moments. If this isn’t the case for you, you’re not alone. Many LGBTQIA+ people have experienced rejection of their identities by families, friends, and other significant relationships. The holiday season might be a time where the loss of those connections can feel more present than usual. Here's some advice I hope will help you navigate this time of year.

If you're wondering whether or not to come out during the holidays:

The first thing I think about is safety, always. Consider if your family might respond in a harmful or hurtful way. If that's the case, have a safety plan that includes an exit strategy in the event of a worst case scenario. This can include giving supportive family members a heads up so they can be there if needed. Once you have your plan figured out, it might be okay to lean into the moment and share about your identity.

Ultimately, we want family to witness who we are in a way that feels celebratory of our identities.

Remember that coming out doesn't have to be an in-person experience and it’s normal for the process to look different from person to person.

If you're leaning into found family and prioritizing mental health:

Creating new ways to celebrate during the holidays frees us from constantly thinking about what used to be and invites us to experience newness and novelty. Exploring new traditions can help you move through any grief that comes with spending the holidays differently. Pause and reflect on how you wish to foster connection, togetherness, belonging, or community in a meaningful way.

If you're thinking about meeting each other's families:

This question has more to do with your relationship than your family. It gets to the heart of whether or not you both are ready for that next step. In short, it's important to be on the same page about what introducing a partner to family looks like and means. Five questions I recommend talking through:

1. Where are you in the process of coming out to your family?
2. How do you feel about your relationships with your family?
3. Do you feel affirmed and celebrated by your family?
4. Will your family be supportive of us?
5. If I get stuck in a conversation that makes me feel weird, how do I let you know?

If you want to let your family know pronouns don't have to be a big deal:

We don't have to explain our pronouns to anyone. There’s nothing that says that we’re obligated to do this. So first, I’d reframe it from explaining to inviting someone in to celebrate with us! If this is your first time having this conversation, invite your family into this process by sharing pronouns are a way people honor themselves and respect their identities.



To read Moe's full responses, head to the Help Center of the Hinge app.

This is a great question! As a sex educator, people often come to me thinking that sex is the ultimate goal. People are right to assume that the foundation of my work is centered around sex, but a big misinterpretation is that does not mean the act of sex is centered. There are a plethora of topics under the sex education umbrella and one of them is intimacy. The media has derailed the true meaning of intimacy by linking it to a means to have sex. One of the first discussions in my classrooms is that intimacy never has to be sexual. Intimacy is the act of sharing time, space and connection with one other person or group of people.

This means there are so many forms of intimacy that are not sexual. One that I think is often overlooked is getting to know someone. In order to get to know someone on a deeper level, trust is required. Intimacy and trust go hand in hand because if someone does not feel safe enough to share their life, they will not share and intimacy will not be established.

Being let into someone else’s world inevitably will bring you closer to that person or people.

Generally speaking, people will take their time to open up and share aspects of their lives, but when they do it opens the door to a deeper connection. When you know more about a person, you can express care, love and thoughtfulness based on how they want to receive intimacy rather than what you think is best. There are a few things you can do to spark conversation and connection ranging from least to most physical:

• Make a meal together: Cooking provides an opportunity for collaboration and connection. Cooking together can make you feel connected by sharing likes and dislikes with food, an opportunity to make each other laugh and work together towards a common goal. Cooking also takes patience and is great practice for decision making, as you have to figure out what you will make and where it will happen.
• Share an activity: Inviting your friend or partner to share in an activity that you enjoy is another great way to establish intimacy. Sharing something you love to do with another person requires vulnerability as they are going to witness you participating in the sport/hobby/activity. You will likely have to explain the rules or how things work if they have never participated and also work with them to understand how it works. For example, if you love knitting, you can share why you love knitting and explain how to make a certain stitch. Seeing someone take interest in your interests is a lovely way to feel closer to someone.
• Go for a walk: Being outside is already great for your mental and emotional health, doing so with a partner(s) or a friend will only increase serotonin levels. If you are both comfortable, try holding hands (maybe not the whole time as palms get sweaty lol). This is a great way to be out in nature while also talking about whatever topic under the sun.
• Cuddle: Another activity is cuddling, cuddling is also linked with being a form of foreplay but it doesn't have to be that at all. Cuddling is a great way to address skin hunger, a longing sensation typical for so many people to experience when they have not been touched in a very long time. You can set a literal timer, cuddle for the duration of a movie or just until someone has other plans.

Sexual intimacy isn’t a prerequisite for a meaningful relationship because its not foundational to what is necessary to have a meaningful relationship. What creates a meaningful relationship is trust, vulnerability and connection, these principles can be present in any relationship, not just sexual relationships.

I resonate with this question so deeply. The beauty of exploration is that we get to be intentional about what feels aligned with not only who we’ve been, but who we are now and are soon to become.

When my partner and I began dating eight years ago, many of the traditional narratives and structures for relationships didn't include us. While that was sometimes challenging, it presented me with an opportunity to reimagine what my relationships could be like outside of traditional boxes. It gave me the space to evaluate how I wanted to love and be loved vs how I felt I should. This was liberating. There are many ways to explore and structure a polyamorous relationship.

I invite you to think of polyamorous and non-monogamous as identities and/or ways of structuring relationships⏤not "lifestyles".

This shift in thinking can help you explore if you desire intimate romantic and/or sexual partnerships with more than one person. If the idea resonates with you, it's confirmation that you have an interest in relationships beyond monogamy.

I encourage you to learn more about the ways other people are already navigating non-monogamy. Some choose to maintain a primary relationship with multiple secondary connections. Others may form a “polycule”—multiple relationships at once that may or may not overlap. Some are even self-partnered! See which relationship structures feel aligned with your vision for your life.

Then, talk to potential dates openly about your desires. Try asking a question like, “I want to openly explore non-monogamous relationships with the people I date. Do you have any experience or interest in non-monogamy?”  You might find that others are also figuring it out or have something helpful to offer from their experiences.

Lastly, just like with monogamous relationships, you’ll make adjustments to how you manage relationship boundaries by putting all of your new knowledge into practice. This could look like laying out communication expectations about new partners or dates, or setting up times to check in about how things are going.

This question feels like something of a trans legend or folklore—“a tale as old as time.” At least it does for me, whose first experience and proximity to the trans community was mostly from behind a screen. I’ve been enthralled and greatly shaped by the dolls on TV, movies, and a myriad of ballroom clips and docs. That is to say, I feel like we all grew up on these stories until we knew the experience for ourselves. And for many of us, “hesitant” is only the beginning.

Like on that sweet summer night I danced with a man till the last drink was served, and all at once, the lights were bright enough for me to have the conversation. He drew the words from my mouth like they were never mine to begin with.

Or the time a man found himself under every one of my selfies and in my dms, and just as quickly found his exit once he clocked tea.

The way I’ve held my breath every time a man has got at me in public.

The minefield a grocery store or bank can be is almost comical.

Far too often we fall experiment and or detriment to our straight and hetero counterparts. I’ve spent a lot of time being afraid and hesitant for so many extremely valid reasons, but that same hesitance stagnated a lot of my growth and happiness. That’s why my biggest advice to a trans woman who has matched with someone who identifies as straight and is hesitant or scared, online or in person, is to remain strategic, level headed, and autonomous.

I can’t stress enough the prioritization of trans joy and safety/survival, and that starts with us being willing to take up/make that space for ourselves and accept nothing less.

I promise the most sexiest thing you could ever be is confident. So, no matter how fish or brick you are, walk into every room like you own it, know what you know your worth is, and you dismiss anything less. Be unwavering in what you deserve. Know that you are in control of the conversation.

As a trans woman, there will always be straight men who want to talk to you. When they do, remember you owe no one (romantic or platonic) an explanation, justification, or general education about your gender sexuality or body. And you, like the rarest,baddest b**ch in the room. Period.

First, I'd ask, what is a late bloomer to you? There is this assumption that we are all experiencing our sexuality at the same time or that everyone else is much further along, but the reality is that there is no such thing as a late bloomer. It doesn’t matter if you experience/name your queerness at six or sixty, you can’t be late or behind if there is no start time.

In a world that assumes we are all cisgender and heterosexual first, its better to lead with the understanding that we are all in various places with our queerness navigating to the best of our ability.

As you start to date, get to know people based on who they are, and try not to compare what you haven't done to what they may have. You don't need to be shy or even hide where you are in your journey as where you are is perfect and should never be judged by anyone, including you! :)

Congratulations on taking such an exciting leap in your journey! Don’t diminish it thinking you’re late to the party. There’s no right or wrong time to come out—your pace is the only one that matters here.

Each person is unique and has lived experiences that are special to them, as do you. Doesn’t that mean every time you date a new person, it’s a new experience? Doesn’t that mean we’re all “inexperienced” then? I invite you to lean into the novelty of your romantic connection and allow yourself to enjoy learning more about yourself and others through the dating process.

To start, I’d like to congratulate you for taking on the mystery of queer flirting! Forreal though, I honestly believe flirting is one of the most vulnerable things someone can do. Flirting involves a lot of brave shit: naming your desires head on! Facing the possibilities of rejection! Telling insecurities that may arise to chill tf out! So cheers to you for wanting to up your flirting game.

Jokes aside, I don’t believe queer dating, or femme flirting, is particularly mysterious. I think queer flirting feels illusive because it rejects the hetero and cis normatively entangled in dominant cultural ideas about dating. This is a recipe for stirring insecurity and fear in naming our flirtatious desires.

For example the common belief that femme people should wait around for someone else to approach us. Yawn 🍅. When I first entered the world of queer dating, I had to give some serious attention to unlearning the gender norms making my flirting game so passive and dusty. I was also nervous to flirt because I didn’t want to reproduce the creepy or unwanted flirting I’d experienced in the past with cis straight men.

Herein lies the joyous potential of queerness: to create new ways of  dating, romancing, and flirting devoid of the tired scripts.

This brings me to my three tips to being a clear flirter: ground your confidence, be direct, and be yourself.

#1 Ground your confidence

Confidence is when we’re grounded with our sense of self, including our ability to name desires and needs, while being able to be present and empathetic with others. Confidence is embodied, meaning we can literally make the energy of confidence physically present through non-verbal cues, like our body language, gaze, or the way we say things. We can root into confidence before flirting by asking ourselves some simple questions:

• What does confidence feel like in my body? (Example: Do I stand taller? Is my gaze more direct? Is my breath slow?)
• What does my voice sound like when I’m confident? (Example: Do I speak more slowly?
• What experiences help me access confidence? (Example: positive affirmations, meditation)

#2 Be direct

Let’s get one thing clear, directness is sexy. Directness is a green flag to others that you know what you want, and that you’re grounded enough to name it. When done through a place of confidence, it also means that if you’re rejected, your sense of self will remain intact, and you’ll end on on a neutral or positive note. Making your flirting direct can be as simple as making subtle language adjustments, like making “I” statements or taking initiative with planning dates. For example:

• Do you want to hang out? → I’d love to take you out.
• You’re so pretty → I think you’re so pretty. Can I take you on a date?
• You’re so cool → I think you’re so cool, I’d love to get to know you more, can I take you out?
• Literally saying “I’m flirting with you.” (Example, I have def texted someone “(flirtatiously asks) What’s your favorite song?”)

#3 Be yourself

I know I know, this is one of the most cliché lines in the dating book. But listen, it’s the truth! It doesn’t matter if your flirting style is goofy, nerdy, sultry, corny, soulful, or endless other styles, as long as it's YOURS. Remember, the point of dating is to find someone that aligns with your values, needs, and desires. My flirting style is sultry, but it’s also a little silly, because it’s important to me that I can laugh with the people I date. If someone isn’t into my flirting, that’s incredibly useful info that maybe we’re not for one another, and that’s ok!

Clear flirting is transformative because it can pull into reality the dating experiences we desire. It might take some practice, and a willingness to perhaps at times feel insecure, awkward, or silly. But on the other side is a sense of being in touch with our desires, which is one of the bravest and most magical things we can do.

I actually laughed trying to answer this to myself. My homegirls and I are still trying to figure this out. Being queer is so complicated and kind of annoying. But, I think that’s what makes it fun.

I’m not sure if I have a legitimate answer for how to make it clear that you're flirting other than being clear and concise. I do, however, want to encourage folks to play.

Maybe it's my libra rising, but all I ever want to do is play. Forget whether or not the person knows you’re flirting.

Do you feel good? Are you having fun? Are you enjoying the banter? Make a joke, compliment them directly, find a reason to ask for their help with something, don’t be afraid to look silly.

Once you relieve yourself of the weight of having to be perceived a certain way or identify/name whatever your exchange is or isn’t, flirting gets so much easier. Don’t overthink it. If you’re enjoying yourself and you both leave the conversation feeling good, you’ve done a great job, babe.

The short answer is: no! Assuming pronouns without consent risks a lot of harmful impacts for a number of reasons. Some people don’t use pronouns. Other people choose to only share their pronouns with those they’ve gotten to know more closely.

Everyone is different, which is why it’s best practice to wait till you’ve talked to the person about their particular relationship with pronouns.

If someone doesn’t have pronouns listed on their profile, use their name. If you’d like to know their pronouns, ask them directly.

Since there are so many misconceptions about what it means to bisexual, I’ve wondered about the same exact thing. While not everyone thinks this way, so many people’s first thoughts are something like, “Does that mean you could be with a man and woman at the same time?” Or, “Are you sure you’re not just confused?” Even casual questions like which girl I think is the hottest on a show remind me being bisexual isn’t something everyone “gets” right away.

I totally understand those who decide to keep their bisexuality private until they feel comfortable enough to share. If you’re someone who's decided to wait, I’d maybe bring it up within the first couple dates. In some situations, waiting a long time only puts more pressure on you and the person you’re telling, turning what could be a moment of deeper connection into something else.

I prefer to be upfront. I spent a good portion of my life feeling shame and guilt around the topic of sexuality and I don’t want to let that affect my choices while dating in the future. Having my sexuality “visible” on my profile helps me and my dates avoid confusion. And while that kind of openness is hard at times,

putting everything on the table means I’m connecting with someone who truly understands, and wants to be with, all of me. It’s also a great way to build trust at the beginning of your relationship, which is super important.

I’m still fairly new to dating, and I’m still figuring things out. But one thing I do know? Everyone has their own journey and knows what works best for them. Trust your gut!

Coming out gets a lot of overemphasis in today’s discourse. I don’t believe coming out to your family/society/community should be a requirement. It’s often the first question people ask when you mention you’re queer. “Do your parents know???” Absolutely not!!!

It’s a privilege to know me, and not everyone has earned the right to know the deepest parts of me.

Especially for those of us from certain cultural backgrounds – coming out can have massive and potentially dangerous consequences. Those consequences can impact us forever. For many of us, we have to prioritize our physical safety, financial security, and housing before we can share our sexuality.

I wasn’t out to the world for the majority of my life, and even now while in a serious three-year relationship, I’m not out to most of my family, including my parents. For me, it was more important to be seen in other ways by my loved ones before coming out. That said, having a partner and not being out has been an exercise in communicating boundaries. My partner is totally okay with me not being out to my family and not introducing her to my family at this moment because she understands the relationship I have with them and how I’d like to grow with them before coming out.

Dating if you’re not out is totally okay!!! Just make sure to communicate to your partner(s) what your feelings are around coming out and boundaries you have with different people in your life.

I think it’s a struggle for many people. So, if this is on your mind, know that you aren’t alone. I grew up in a society that was not open to queer people. I knew in my mind I was queer, but I spent years not knowing if I was ready to come out. Through that journey,

I learned coming out is a process and you shouldn’t feel the pressure from anyone to rush it.

However, there are things you can do to test the waters without fully diving in.

I think that if you’re ready to date, but aren’t ready to put yourself out there online, you can always make new friendships and relationships “IRL.” Go to queer-focused, local spaces: bars, the beach, queer-owned shops, queer author book signings, whatever feels comfortable. Introduce yourself to someone, make a connection, and see where it goes. Who knows, they might be able to match you up with someone! Personally, I met people through in-person events and work spaces!

If you’re still figuring things out and not ready to date, just make sure you nurture yourself with good people around you so you feel comfortable when the time is right. The more like-minded people you surround yourself with, the more your confidence will grow.

Even if you’re not out or don’t know exactly how you identify concerning gender or sexual orientation, you can still start to figure out who you’re attracted to. In fact, the dating process can help us to understand ourselves more deeply if we pay attention to how we respond, what we are feeling, and what we are learning about ourselves along the way.

Try telling your matches, “I really don't know where I stand on the spectrum/ I’m not out yet, but I know that I'm queer, and I'm sure about my desire to date you." This kind of vulnerability invites more intentionality and clarity from both parties from the beginning.

Ultimately, who you date and when you date is your choice. The primary person you have to be out to is yourself. So as long as you’re clear about who you are, it’s okay to bring people into that process.

Society often makes us believe that we have to fit into a specific category to live our lives, but this isn’t true. Exploration of one’s sexuality is a journey that is different for each and every person. It’s completely ok if you’re not ready to “come out.”

I personally think it’s probably better if you avoid labeling exactly who you are prematurely because it may block you from experiencing things you enjoy and achieving a full understanding of who you are.

Simply be honest with your journey with whomever you’re interested in. Some may not agree, and that’s ok, just remember to prioritize yourself and your journey of exploration. You’ll know when you’re ready.

I share this hesitation, but I’m very open! The same way I would be hesitant to date someone with little sexual experience or relationship experience, or someone much younger than me,

I would definitely want to move with extra intention.

This is not to take away from the person’s sexuality, but more so to protect my own heart and the success of the relationship. I personally went through a lot of shame and volatility during my first queer experience, and supporting another partner through that could be hard. It really just depends on the specific person. I’d want us to get to know each other well and understand each other’s perspectives, experiences, and intentions.

In a word: Yes! I was actually my partner’s first-ever boyfriend, and I had a lot of insecurities about it—all of which I placed right on his lap. It took a year until a friend intervened with some wisdom: Just because you’re insecure about something doesn’t mean it’s true. I was projecting so much onto him that I never really took him at his word—even when he was brave enough to say “I love you.” Boundaries are boundaries, so I respect yours.

But I guess I’d say we shouldn’t let insecurities get in the way of receiving a good thing when it’s standing right in front of us.

Many demisexual, asexual, and celibate people enjoy a dating life full of romantic attractions and relationships that do not culminate in sex. As it does in any relationship, it all comes down to communication.

It’s essential to be direct from the beginning of any new connection about intimacy and what it currently means to you.

I recommend you have a conversation early on about your boundaries. It’s also okay to say that you’re still figuring out what dating might look like, and that while you’re open to exploring and evolving, it doesn’t involve physical intimacy right now or ever. This can alleviate any misunderstandings about the possibility of sex and can help you focus on building up other facets of the relationship.

We are all allowed to set our personal boundaries around substance use. In every relationship, it’s important to have an open and honest conversation about each other's feelings around the topic. To avoid sounding judgemental, you should first evaluate your feelings around substance use and why these feelings exist. Take time to understand what associations you draw with substance use and where these associations come from. Substance use is often stigmatized, as many draw an unfounded association to low moral standards.

You have to remember that everyone’s story is different and the reasons behind substance use are often multifaceted and nuanced.

When having the discussion with a prospective partner, you should be sure to practice active listening and continuously remind yourself that you have not lived in this person’s shoes and be fully open to understanding their story.

It’s perfectly acceptable to want to choose a partner that shares your boundaries around substance use. You should be able to articulate that your boundaries don’t come from a place of judgment—but from a place of wanting to share a life and a lifestyle together. It’s good to be honest without having to resort to being hurtful.

If faith is important to you, I think it’s crucial to have perspective on a couple things. First and foremost, we all know that religion has been wielded in societies to hurt people (and, oftentimes, queer people bear the worst of that hurt). If you start a conversation about religion with a relative stranger, you should be prepared to be open—and not defensive—about their personal experiences with their faith, and why they may have set boundaries around it. I know that most faith traditions teach us to lead with compassion when people have been wrongfully marginalized. So do your best to let your faith guide you appropriately in that scenario.

Second, even in moments like these, you have the power to allow your faith to act as a bridge and not a barrier.

When we distill our religious customs, beliefs, traditions, and stories down to their purest essence, we’re mostly left with a profound sense of how to live and accomplish justice in this world. Someone does not necessarily need to be a person of your exact faith to share those same values with you. If you talk about your faith from this vantage point, you might actually excite a potential partner who’s thrilled you’re being open and vulnerable with them. Who knows? That kind of conversation might ignite an unexpected bond. My faith tells me that leading with vulnerability instead of fear will reap a reward of love. Try it, and maybe you’ll find the same is true for you.

Hmm this is an interesting question! I think it really depends on the situation and relationship you have with your ex. Let’s say you’re both on very good terms. You’re the type of friends that talk once a week. If that’s the case, I would immediately go to them and say something like:

"Hey, I matched with someone and think they’re cute. But, they’re your ex. How would you feel about me going on a date with them?"

Asking my ex how they feel keeps things open and friendly for all interpretations! However, if you and your ex are friendly but not necessarily super close, I would probably say:

"Hey, just wanted to let you to know, I matched with your ex and I’m going on a date with them."

So, when it comes to going on a date with your ex’s ex, I think the trick to avoiding any awkwardness is just being super transparent.

Because, WHO KNOWS! You might really get on with your ex’s ex and want to be partners in the future.

No matter the situation, keeping it light, honest, and clear with all parties involved is the way to go.

If faith is important to you, I think it’s crucial to have perspective on a couple things. First and foremost, we all know that religion has been wielded in societies to hurt people (and, oftentimes, queer people bear the worst of that hurt). If you start a conversation about religion with a relative stranger, you should be prepared to be open—and not defensive—about their personal experiences with their faith, and why they may have set boundaries around it. I know that most faith traditions teach us to lead with compassion when people have been wrongfully marginalized. So do your best to let your faith guide you appropriately in that scenario.

Second, even in moments like these, you have the power to allow your faith to act as a bridge and not a barrier.

When we distill our religious customs, beliefs, traditions, and stories down to their purest essence, we’re mostly left with a profound sense of how to live and accomplish justice in this world. Someone does not necessarily need to be a person of your exact faith to share those same values with you. If you talk about your faith from this vantage point, you might actually excite a potential partner who’s thrilled you’re being open and vulnerable with them. Who knows? That kind of conversation might ignite an unexpected bond. My faith tells me that leading with vulnerability instead of fear will reap a reward of love. Try it, and maybe you’ll find the same is true for you.

Total transparency in the early stages of dating has allowed me to feel affirmed in my gender and its many dimensions. My pronouns are they/them, and I’ve had to exercise the muscle that asks me to be transparent from the very start with my lovers. I usually tell people on the first date how I don’t identify as a cis woman, how “they/them” makes me feel euphoric and seen, and how every day I feel different about how I wish to present.

This felt like a scary thing to do, because there were moments where I felt unsafe revealing that truth, especially with cis men I was attracted to. For a long time, I allowed myself to be misgendered, even though it made me feel physically uncomfortable to be called a woman, lady, or girl.

I am transparent on the first date because the person’s reaction usually allows me to discern the trajectory of our connection. While nerve-wracking, it allows me to feel empowered in my agency in pursuing meaningful intimacy. I wear an outfit that makes me feel the most gender euphoric of the day, and I put myself before the assumed desires of another. If somebody is uncomfortable with my truth, then it reveals more about them than it does about me. I prefer to get this done early, because I know how precious my time is, and how uncompromising I am about my need to be respected in my fullness.

Even though transparency in dating feels simple and foundational, it is surprising how difficult it can be in action.

While I unlearn many harmful standards of desirability, I have learned what I know for sure: I want to do whatever I wish with my gender, and I want to share my life intimately with somebody who wholly supports me in that. If they cannot provide that, then I cannot be with them.

I have accidentally misgendered lovers before, and I know that it is my responsibility to unlearn those conditions in my brain. Because it is my responsibility, I find it incredibly important to honour that and

take accountability immediately, instead of pretending it didn’t happen

because I feel uncomfortable. I also do not like to make a spectacle of my mistake, because that might make the person I am talking to more uncomfortable, or even obliged to comfort me.

Instead, I quickly apologise and correct myself, using the pronouns that make them feel the most seen and heard. If I do not know the person’s pronouns, then I ask them what they prefer and tell them that I will use those pronouns from then onwards. The beauty of intimacy is feeling safe and free in each other’s fullness, and I always want the people I like to feel completely free in their gender fluidity with me.