Male-To-Female, Home + Community, SocialKatherine Day
 Image by Roy A. Adkins

Image by Roy A. Adkins

Glorified Prostitutes

by Katherine Day

Navigating sexuality as a trans-woman isn’t always easy nor is it as clear-cut as some would prefer it be. Inquiring minds want to know if I’m straight or bi, lesbian or pansexual, or the even more obscure, asexual. For clarity’s sake: I identify as heterosexual. I am a woman in a man’s body, who is transitioning her inner-reality into her physical one, and who likes men. All men in fact, but don’t be alarmed. I’m only looking for THE ONE (for me). It might be tough to find him though, with my low tolerance for blind ignorance and easily hurt egos.  

It seems as if many people are still quite inquisitive as to what might hide underneath the fabric of my panties or which bunk I‘d prefer as if there are not more pressing and urgent matters to tend to. However, to play along for a second and answer one of those questions, I prefer both the top and bottom bunks, the floor, the kitchen, the couch, the bathroom, even your boss’ desk while he’s out to lunch. Now based on this information, many of you have already judged me. Some of you have cast me aside as undateable, not worthy of someone taking the actions they would take with a more “anatomically-correct” woman based on my openness about sex or my body.

Did you know that many men and women (trans included) who feel less than, settle for friends, jobs, or partners, they find less than ideal or healthy? A later topic.

Also, that there are a great many people with less than suitable social skills just waiting to mold these men and women into the toys they never got to play with as a child? Another later topic.

I could wax verbose, communicating the plight of most relationships on the psychologic level and how that extrapolates into perceived failures throughout our entire lives creating a self-fulfilling prophecy, but today I simply wish to talk about my friend Harry.

Harry and I “met” the day after my birthday. I’d recently finished watching an arousing interview starring Harry with my friend Mike of @axxidentalzine.

His full name: Harry Clayton-Wright
Age: 27 years old
Location: Brighton, UK

Yes. He’s English. He’s also very clever, highly creative, a bit dodgy, and he also has a cute furry bum to match.

Interestingly enough, Harry and I share a birthday.

A few other things we have in common:

  • We’re both reasonably attractive
  • We both work in the theatre
  • We’re both artists
  • We’re also poets (ask Harry about his poem about grey joggers)
  • And we’ve seen each other naked, although we’ve never met in person

Although Harry unabashedly shares his sexuality with the world using images recounting sex, he’s not a porn star. To me, he's some kind of  “pioneer for sexual liberation” or an “edgy artist”.

When compared to other “pornography”. I liken it to veganism. I acknowledge that Harry is a person. He has a face. He has a name. And he also has an adorable mom that loves him dearly. He is indeed my friend. And friends take care of each other.

I met him in a time when everyone in my “normal” circle abandoned me for simpler understood landscapes, I turned to him (and others, mind you) and like an anticipated friend request, I was accepted.

We all struggle with acceptance.
Somehow life considers it a prerequisite to granting wishes.

But even the pioneers of sexual liberation experience life, and like me Harry’s not afraid to show or share when he’s been wounded. The other day Harry posted an interaction he had with someone.

This guy, apparently salty from Harry’s long response time, went IN.

His comments REEK of stranger danger, but not only that, he is so well-versed at jumping to conclusions, it’s as if he’s pole vaulting in the Olympics and in line to be awarded the gold medal. His assessment, creative. His view point, valid. But in my experience, when waxing grandiloquent while angry, it simply translates as an erratic meltdown of someone clearly unstable.  

He’d had had it. He was so fragile, that the thought of not being cute enough or good enough for someone’s attention exemplified the proverbial straw that broke this desperate and thirsty camel’s back.

This theme of “I can’t let them think they’re too good for me, so I must tear them down first before they even think of doing it to me!”, is common. Daily I see individuals of more or less marginalized groups utterly destroy one another in word or intention behind closed doors or on social media platforms and then with futility, attempt to stand together in the solidarity of victimhood when something catastrophic happens. And that’s the glitch. Our operating system needs an update and this virus must be removed. From my vantage point, it seems the only things that bind us these days are hatred, tragedy, and/or geography. And at the core of that which binds us, is fear.

I’m afraid you won’t like me.
I’m afraid you won’t see how special I am.
I’m afraid you won’t love me.
I’m afraid I’m unloveable.
I’m afraid I’m gonna die alone.

So just how do I communicate that I’m afraid you won’t like me, while retaining some sense of dignity?

To be honest, questions of dignity lie within not communicating our feelings at all. And sadly, not being able to articulate what we’re feeling gives some the carte blanche to act as they see fit. Then we, expecting understanding and compassion are spurned the more. In this case here, it could be said that this guy had quite a bit wagered on Harry responding to him in a favorable manner. It's the only thing that justifies such an elaborate response.

He set a trap. He expected Harry to respond and when Harry didn’t he lashed out and then played the victim. Oops!

People find it very difficult to play both the role of God and the Victim, partly because they don’t see that that’s what they're doing and secondly, it’s impossible. It doesn’t read right.

So whether or not Harry is just a glorified prostitute with a smartphone is still debatable. I do think, however, that we could all take a cue from his experience as he has taken this negative experience and used it as a source of empowerment.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you, my friend, Harry Clayton-Wright.






Katherine Elizabeth Day, a native of Mississippi recently came back to New York this year. She is a brilliant writer and artist. She briefly studied film and greek at Hunter College during her first stay in New York in 2011. She spent this past year in her “hometown” of Jackson, MS advocating equal rights for its LGBT community. She is a published author and recently completed her second book titled "MVKE ME.” (make me). She loves children and nature. When asked what she wants to do when she grows up, her answer is simple, “Create."