Literature, too, has been transformed. The autofiction boom of the 2010s and 2020s—Torrey Peters’ Detransition, Baby , Janet Mock’s Redefining Realness , Imogen Binnie’s Nevada —created a new genre: trans literature that is not about suffering for a cis audience, but about the messy, funny, horny, and complex interior lives of trans people. In doing so, it forced the broader LGBTQ literary world to abandon the “tragic queer” trope and embrace joy, ambivalence, and ordinariness.
It’s crucial to distinguish (one’s internal sense of self) from sexual orientation (who one is attracted to). Trans people can be straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, or asexual—just like cisgender (non-trans) people.
This fracture was not just political; it was ontological. The foundational logic of the gay rights movement was based on sexual orientation— who you love. The trans movement is based on gender identity— who you are. For a long time, mainstream gay politics argued that orientation could be depoliticized and normalized, while identity was seen as a radical, destabilizing force. This created a hierarchy of “acceptability” that still echoes today.
