On the Subject of Passive Dysphoria

Content warning: Frank discussion of bodies and body parts, including genitals

If you're reading this, you're probably trans, or know trans folks. One of the things you may be aware of is dysphoria (for a good discussion of what all dysphoria includes, see the History of Gender Dysphoria at the Gender Dysphoria Bible). While this word covers many things, for this discussion I'm going to focus on one aspect of it, and one of the aspects that's most widely known: bottom dysphoria.

Simply stated, bottom dysphoria is when a person's genitals cause them dysphoria. It can come in a lot of forms, but the popularly-known ones focus on the basic message, "My genitals are wrong."

What I'm talking about here is a discovery I made about how exactly I experience bottom dysphoria.

When I came out, and for almost two years afterwards, I thought I didn't have bottom dysphoria. I didn't hate my penis, it wasn't a bad thing. It was just... there. And that caused me some concern, because I could also tell that I wanted to have bottom surgery, and I couldn't reconcile these things in my head. For a surgery as major as vaginoplasty, I really wanted to have a good logical basis for it, and this mismatch in my head prevented that basis from forming.

My first insight came when I wore a bodysuit (basically a one-piece feminine bathing suit, with snaps in the crotch to make it easier to pee) a few months after orchiectomy. I'd tried it on at the store, and idly put it on a few times, but never really went out into the world with it. Then, a few months ago, I did.

And I noticed a thing: I couldn't feel my genitals. Some magic of the suspension provided by the bodysuit almost seemed to delete them, temporarily. And it felt amazing. I didn't think a lot of it at the time, but I certainly noticed the feeling.

A month or so later, I was bound for an electrolysis appointment, where I'd applied numbing cream to my scrotum, and I noticed the same thing: the feeling of having a penis and scrotum was gone, and it felt great.

I'll be the first to say that this experience is particular to me, and I'm not describing it because I think it's necessarily going to help anyone else. What it does do, however, is set the stage for the analysis and categorization I figured out afterwards.

I tried to describe the feeling to trans friends, and kept finding myself using the word "passive" for it. It was like I had found a new kind of dysphoria: one where the presence of my penis wasn't bad, but its absence was remarkably good. Thus did I string together the words, "Passive bottom dysphoria."

I now have two definitions of bottom dysphoria that I work with, when I'm thinking about these things:

Active Bottom Dysphoria: when a person's genitals cause negative feelings, simply by existing as they do

Passive Bottom Dysphoria: when a person's genitals do not cause negative feelings, but doing something to them so they feel more like a desired configuration causes positive feelings

Thus armed, I could finally reconcile my desire for bottom surgery: it wasn't having a penis that was bad, it's that not having a penis would be so much better. This also clarifies some specifics of what I want the end result of my bottom surgery to be, since I've been able to work out that it's specifically the sensation of loose scrotal skin rubbing on my legs when I walk that was most transformative. This matches well with years of trying to find underwear that would best isolate my penis and scrotum into their own world, separate from the rest of my body (there were, they famously said, no signs).

Ironically, this morphs my particular bottom dysphoria into a more active direction, as I've learned to narrow down exactly what the problem is. Honestly, though, I'm not too fussed what form it takes, as long as I understand what's going on.

I hope this helps you to understand your own bottom dysphoria, if you have it, or perhaps learn a bit more about what your trans friend(s) might be going through.