What Trans People Know About Love

An exploration into the depth of trans love, and what it teaches us about being seen.

It’s no secret that dating today is an absolute disaster. Romance? Connection? Commitment? Practically endangered species. Now, throw in being a trans woman, and suddenly, you’re not just dating—you’re navigating a minefield.

I’ve often felt like an anomaly when it comes to relationships. Not just because of who I am, but because of the depth that I seek. There are times I look around and wonder, is everyone okay? Why does it feel like no one is searching for something real?

When I trace my relationship history, one thing stands out: I have always prioritized the desire of being seen. And I don’t mean in the surface-level, “I think you’re beautiful” kind of way. I mean really seen. I know some of you understand what I mean. That feeling when someone not only acknowledges you but actively seeks to understand you—the full, unfiltered, complicated you. That’s rare. And the truth is, not everyone is capable of it.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe: if there is one thing trans people excel at, it’s love.

To be loved by a trans person is a privilege—one that many don’t fully appreciate. And yet, I’d argue it has the potential to be one of the purest, most profound, and rarest forms of love out there.

Hear me out.

Most trans people understand, on a deeply personal level, that who you are goes far beyond physicality. We’ve spent years in a cocoon of self-discovery, often feeling trapped in bodies that didn’t align with our truth. Many of us have had to fight—not just to be seen, but to be understood. And when you have to fight that hard to be recognized for who you are, it changes the way you love.

We know that what makes someone valuable is never just what’s visible. We’ve developed emotional muscles that allow us to see beyond the surface, and in turn, we love with that same depth.

Most people don’t know this about me, but my college degree is in psychology, and I’ve always enjoyed data and theory to back up my observations. When thinking about this, I was reminded of the Social Penetration Theory—a concept that explains how emotional closeness develops in relationships.

This theory suggests that intimacy isn’t something that just happens. It's built. It’s cultivated through self-disclosure, layer by layer, as people share their thoughts, experiences, and emotions over time. Basically, relationships function like an onion (yes, Shrek was onto something). At the surface, you have the most basic information—the things people reveal in passing: what they do for work, their favorite foods, the type of music they like. Beneath that are the deeper layers: personal values, fears, past traumas, desires. And at the core, you find the most intimate level of self—who a person truly is, beyond social roles and external expectations.

The reality is, most relationships never make it past the surface. They run on attraction, familiarity, or convenience. But trans people don’t have the luxury of keeping things shallow.

By necessity, our lives demand that we navigate the deepest layers of identity and self-discovery early on. Our survival depends on articulating who we are, often in the face of resistance. We are forced into emotional depth—both within ourselves and in the relationships we build.

This is why trans love is radically intimate.

For many cisgender people, relationships begin at the surface and may or may not deepen over time. But for trans people, relationships often start from the core—from the truths of our identity, from the vulnerabilities we have no choice but to share. The traditional dynamic is reversed; while many people gradually work their way toward depth, we begin with it.

Love, for us, is rarely casual. There is always an unspoken weight to it, one that requires understanding, patience, and the willingness to see another person in their entirety.

This inversion of the traditional relationship dynamic means that when a trans person loves, they love with depth from the outset. We know how to hold space for another person’s complexities because we have had to fight for someone to hold space for ours.

If there’s one thing I can say with certainty, it’s that most trans people know intimately what it feels like to be misunderstood. We’ve typically experienced what it means to be loved conditionally, in parts, or behind closed doors. Many of us—if not all—have found ourselves in relationships where we were seen as a novelty or a fetish, instead of as a full human being.

And yet, despite all of this, we still choose to love.

So when a trans person chooses to love openly, fully, and without condition—when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable despite all of this—there is no love quite like it. It is intentional, expansive, and rare.

And aren’t rare things often the most precious?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying trans people are incapable of vanity. We exist in a world that values beauty, and we are just as susceptible to those standards. But when you’ve spent years knowing that your body, your face, and your outward appearance could never fully tell your story, you learn to prioritize the unseen—or at the very least, you learn how to see the unseen.

When I reflect on the qualities I am drawn to in a partner—intelligence, generosity, kindness, passion—none of them can be captured in a photograph. They are not dictated by height or hair color or any of the superficial markers we are conditioned to rank. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t be mad if the person I fell for was 6’5", blue-eyed, with biceps big enough to make me nervous. But, all jokes aside, I know that who someone is will always matter more than how they are perceived.

So if you are loved by a trans person, it means that you, too, have been seen beyond the surface. And what a gift that is.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize—how many people will actually experience this kind of depth in their lifetime? I’d argue not many. And yet, I fully believe that most people, if not all, crave to be understood. Not just to be desired, admired, or chosen, but to be fully, deeply known.

And perhaps that is exactly why trans love is profound.

What frustrates me is that trans love is so often framed as something people "accept" rather than something they are fortunate to receive. But make no mistake: trans love is not an exception to be tolerated—it is a privilege to be cherished.

Because to be loved by a trans person is to be truly known—to be loved with intention, depth, and clarity. 

And that kind of love? That kind of love is rare. That kind of love is priceless.