Auntie Dyke has officially arrived in 2026, folks! Ready to start the year with a boom, we’ll cover it all: what to say to queer kids in red states, basic rules for when someone you know is transitioning, and approaching sex anxieties.
To My Dear Queers,
Welcome back, lovelies! It’s the most romantic month of the year, and I’m back with answers to some of your most engaging questions yet! Between Harry Styles’ revival and subsequent downfall, a continuation in the rise of violence perpetrated by ICE, Kanye’s controversial apology letter in the wake of psychiatric treatment, Alex Honnold’s record-setting climb of the Taipei 101 skyscraper, and the overwhelming winter storms in the U.S., 2026 has been nothing short of a rollercoaster.
That said, in the face of chaos, the LGBTQIA+ community remains one of the spaces that I love the most, and as your dedicated Auntie Dyke, I hope to extend a similar sense of safety and freedom to you all.
This month, we’re talking about messages for queer kids in conservative areas, what life looks like for trans folks in the early stages of their transitioning journey, and vagina anxiety. With such a wide variety of topics to delve into, let’s waste no time in launching into this edition of Dear Auntie Dyke!
And remember: You can always anonymously submit your own questions to me, and I’ll do my best to answer them wholly and honestly. Submit anonymously: here.
A message for the isolated queer kids
Hey AD,
If you could tell young, queer kids in predominantly republican states anything, what would it be?
From,
Asking For The Kids
Hey there, Kids
This question has a sense of dread lingering over it a bit, doesn’t it? Nothing too overt, but it’s… charged.
One of the most precious aspects of the queer community is our children. They are, in many ways, our most vulnerable community, in desperate need of affection, affirmation, and attention, and often struggling to find it. It’s what makes questions like these so heavy. What can you say to our most vulnerable community members when they feel so out of reach?
I think the gift, though, of talking with queer kids is being able to remind them: Everyone in the community has been in their place, before. We’ve all been queer kids, and many of us are accustomed to that same sense of isolation they may be encountering.
Truly, if I could give a direct message to any queer kid feeling alone, it would read with one overarching theme:
You are not wrong.
This is to further say…
You are not abnormal. You do not deserve any harm done unto you due to your queer identifiers. I promise, you are not alone.
It’s easy to feel like your surrounding environment is your whole world. That those who surround you in your day-to-day reflect the greater opinions of society as a whole.
That is not true.
Every queer adult has a story as a queer child — some better than others. Regardless, we’ve all had to begin somewhere. We’ve all had to face ridicule, or othering, or bullying to some degree, as that is the nature of existing as an individual that belongs to the LGBTQIA+ community.
Even more so, it’s imperative that I stress:
It gets better.
I promise.
Too often, children are lectured about appreciating their childhood on the basis that adulthood is harder. Being a child complaining about anything is often met with responses like, “Just you wait– This is nothing! Someday you’ll have to pay taxes,” or “Talk to me when you have bills to pay, then you’ll know what hard is.”
I’ve always staunchly stood against such sentiments. As an adult who lived through a childhood riddled with addiction and abuse, these were my least favorite comments from those older than me. As a child, I would think, “If this is the best it ever gets, how will I survive being an adult?”
Imagine how surprised I was when adulthood hit, and it was far easier than anything I’d experienced as a child.
Sure, rent sucks. Bills are a pain. Taxes are irritating. Still, all of it is worth it for the freedom of being an adult who can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Being a child in an environment where I couldn’t just be me is far worse than any adult responsibility I handle now.
If I had to give queer kids a succinct message? Hold on.
What you’re going through sucks, but it’s worth muscling your way through. The world is waiting for you, with a large queer community eager to catch you when you finally fall into adulthood. It’s worth trudging through the difficult days to find the joy of living an authentic, free, queer life when you’re older.
Soon enough, you’ll be able to live wherever you want. You’ll get to choose your environment, and a community where you don’t have to feel different or wrong in any way.
BenDeLeCreme, the “terminally delightful” drag queen known for her legendary appearances on RuPaul’s Drag Race, as well as her annual Holiday Show with two-time Drag Race winner Jinkx Monsoon, echoed a similar sentiment when I posed the question to her at a recent Q&A event, saying
It is lonely, and isolating, and sad to be on your own in a place that doesn’t accept you, but all of the things that people condemn you for — They’re afraid of them. Because those things are your superpowers, and all the things they make you feel ashamed of as a younger person, are the things that when you grow up people are going to rally towards […] So nurture those, protect them as best you can, and [there will be] a future where people don’t love you in spite of those things, they love you because of them.
BenDeLaCreme
For the queer kids concerned by the current political state:
Your concern is fair. Things are scary right now. But the queer community has dealt with scary before. We’ve made our way through the years in which it was considered a mental illness to be queer, we pushed through the AIDs epidemic despite being blatantly ignored by our president at the time, survived through assassinations of our community leaders, and fought for freedom from the moment we were able to mobilize as a community.
Our current political climate sucks. But it’s nothing we haven’t faced before, and we certainly have no intentions of abandoning one another now.
It’s going to be okay. I promise. It’s hard, and it’s grueling, and it will take time, but if nothing else: Just hold on. We’re here and waiting for you.
Growing up, my Tia echoed a sentiment that stuck with me throughout my entire life: Your only job as a child is to keep breathing. At any point in time, no matter how hard things feel, your only true job is to get from one breath to the next. Inhale and exhale. Keep moving through time, and you’ll eventually run into a day when you don’t have to listen to anyone but yourself.
The freedom is worth the wait.
Love always and forever,
AD
Talking transition
Hi Auntie!
When someone is transitioning, what’s the general vibe of conversation like? Since being open about transitioning is still pretty new to a lot of people, is it scary? Exciting? A relief? Is it something most people want to talk about, or is it more personal?
Thanks!
Ally-In-Training
Hiya, Ally!
This is a great question, and a complex one on a multitude of levels.
The first thing to remember here is that transitioning is a deeply personal and intimate experience, and the feelings, timeline, and steps within that experience are incredibly diverse. The wide variety in trans stories is not unlike the variation of any other human story. No blanket statement can truly be accurate about any particular demographic, because every individual approaches life with their own unique verve.
The simplest answer is this: If a transgender person wants to talk to you about their transition, they will do so. In any situation you’re in (whether you’re queer or not), the best rule of thumb regarding people who are transitioning is to follow their lead.
Put yourself in similar shoes. If you were undergoing a stressful life change, would you welcome people bringing it to attention unprompted? Or would you rather have the autonomy to decide when and if it’s spoken about at all?
More often than not, people are likely to choose the latter.
That said, if the topic does come up, here are three basic ground rules to swear by:
1. Don’t Ask Invasive Questions
Yes, I’m talking about questions regarding genitals. Any question asking what “equipment” someone has is jarring and offensive — no matter the intent behind it. Variations of “What’s in your pants?” are far beyond appropriate and will (rightfully) put a bad taste in anyone’s mouth, especially someone undergoing a gender transition. Don’t ask. It’s not your business.
2. Adhere to Name Changes
If you think adjusting to someone else’s name change is hard, try being the person changing their name entirely. Trans people often struggle with the “name-change” stage of their transition. While the timing of it varies for everyone, regardless of when it happens, the proper name needs to be put to use. Remember, this is an adjustment for everyone to some degree, and mistakes happen! No one is going to crucify you for a “slip-up,” so long as you correct yourself and move on accordingly.
(Hot tip: Don’t linger when you make a mistake. No trans person wants to comfort you when they’re transitioning. The best way to move on from a pronoun or name slip-up is to correct yourself and move on without further acknowledgement.)
That said, do not inquire about dead names (ie: trans people’s given names at birth) under any circumstance. Whether it’s due to curiosity, previously having known them under the name, or to tell an old story, deadnames are a sensitive and often triggering subject for trans folks and should never be brought to light deliberately.
3. Maintain Consistent Respect
And no, I don’t mean just while speaking to whoever may be transitioning. One of the best ways to be supportive — but respectful — of the trans people around you is to maintain respect even when they aren’t there to witness it. This means always using their proper pronouns, correcting others when they use the wrong pronouns (read again: even when they aren’t there), and doing the same for name changes. Respect in front of trans people is only a performative sheet for some to hide behind. The true support comes when a trans person is out of the room, and someone is still willing to use proper names and pronouns, as well as hold others accountable.
Addressing the Elephant in the Room
Okay, let’s acknowledge it: I am no certified expert on the transgender experience. I can’t be as a cisgender woman. While I do have a broad idea of transgender issues and subjects, I can only speak on trans subjects to a degree. When attempting to build a community for all queer people to be heard, a cis person answering for trans individuals is the antithesis of the true goal.
With this in mind, I reached out to some community members with your question and got a myriad of answers back.
I started by speaking with a transgender man, who tends to be particularly private about his gender identification. In his ideal world, those who knew him before transitioning wouldn’t even recognize him today — and he would not deign to enlighten them. In asking about his willingness to speak of his transition, he said:
Personally, it’s something I like to talk about with other queer people, but it still makes me feel a little apprehensive. I don’t like talking about it with cis-het people at all.
Trans and Transitioned
He further expanded that he often doesn’t care to remark upon his gender identity at all. When he does, he prefers to be the one to bring the topic up, and he’s particularly selective regarding whom he has such conversations with. He is the perfect example of someone who feels slighted by questions such as these and has no interest in expanding for others (as he has every right not to).
My conversation with a nonbinary individual had a different tone to it. We spoke of what coming out was like for them and how they feel regarding their transition. They eloquently explained:
For me [coming out/transitioning] wasn’t just one conversation, it was an amalgamation of several conversations [in which I was] trying to get my loved ones to understand the weight of what I was saying. I started my transition slowly, and I struggle to even call it that, since I identify as non-binary and see it more as me aligning with my true self: A process that is far from over. It’s not just one conversation you have to get through. Transitioning is like evolving, and it happens in phases. For example, the first few years of being out as a trans person, I used my dead name, which is now something very foreign to me.
Flourishing Enby
Here, they touched on an interesting topic: their name change. While this choice is still considered a part of their transition, it came later for them than some others, highlighting the variation in timelines for different transgender people. They came out as nonbinary long before they chose their name.
When asking how they feel speaking about their identity with cis people, they elaborated:
What feels the safest to me is when cis people can keep an open conversation with me and other people about my identity. Someone’s transition is no one’s business unless they make it that way. So just be supportive… It truly depends on a case-by-case basis.
Flourishing Enby
[Having those conversations] can be a relief, but it can also be scary. It depends on the situation, the persons involved, and how it’s handled. As a cis person, always try to be an advocate for trans people while also knowing when it’s a good time to mind your own business. If a trans person wants to share their transition with you, they will!
Another trans individual spoke about their familial struggles when they started coming out. They touched on abrasive commentary, chosen family, and the difficulties it brought to their day-to-day life.
I fully came out as nonbinary in senior year (2015, so that’s over a decade ago!) and I wasn’t loud about it. It was really difficult and school got really difficult.
Quiet Bloomer
My mom and dad asked over and over again, “Do you want to be a boy?” “Why would you even consider changing your name? Or your body?”
It was tiring mostly. I didn’t want to fight the battle of my mom saying, “I miss my beautiful daughter. DAUGHTER. I miss HER.”
For my entire life I’ve fought for her acceptance […] The first few years were extremely painful. I came to terms with it and just had to figure it out with people who actually care about me.
This is, unfortunately, not a rare trans experience, and it colored much of their coming-out and transition with negative memories. Their emphasis on figuring their gender out with people who care about them is valuable: They were able to find safety in those who listened when spoken to, and respected their process regardless of communication.
I don’t talk about it much unless I know that person will actually listen and care. It’s an extremely personal thing. For a new person I introduce myself with my pronouns, and that’s it. I can’t get into more detail because it’s too much for me.
Quiet Bloomer
They did well to highlight the difficult aspects of their experience in coming out and transitioning, while still living authentically as an adult now. While their journey has been far from easy, they manage a queer-focused business and are happily married to their wife, and this was aided by those who supported them — not those who pushed back or asked harmful questions.
While all three of these answers varied in tone, subject matter, and experience, the overarching message is the same:
Transitioning is intimate and private. Take the trans-person’s lead: Don’t bring anything up on your own, and don’t make their gender your business. If a trans person wants to have that conversation with you, they will initiate it. Otherwise, the most respectful thing you can do is adapt to their new name and pronouns (when applicable) and maintain that support regardless of their physical presence in the room.
This question was complex, and I hope I’ve done well to break it down in a digestible way for you, from the perspective of trans people (not just my own). Feel free to return with any follow-up questions you may have… These “simple” questions are far more nuanced than people tend to realize!
Yours truly,
AD
Anxiety, meet Anatomy
Hi AD!
So I’m pan (she/her), and I’ve mainly been with guys my whole life. I had one girlfriend, but nothing ever happened, just holding hands. I know I find women attractive, definitely, and men too. Considering I’ve been mainly with men, does that make me invalid as pan? I’m worried it won’t be accepted, and it makes me nervous to tell people. Also, the thought of being with a woman that has…um..roast beef (I’m sorry idk how else to word it. I hope that wasn’t offensive but more funny) like me is intimidating. I know what I like, and I know everyone is different in their preferences sexually, but do other people feel intimidated like this? Is it normal to feel worried? I feel like I’m supposed to know the anatomy because I have it.
Pan and Panicking
Hi babe,
First and foremost:
Breathe.
From the jump, I can promise you that you’re overthinking this.
Granted, you are one of many queer people with vagina’s who have this same misplaced sense of anxiety. I’ve heard far more than one queer girl say they felt pressure to be “better” in bed with people of the same genitalia, because both parties have similar “equipment.” You are not at all alone in feeling this way.
So let me reassure you of this: No one has the same vagina. Any time you come into contact with one, it will be different than the last. And while this may sound intimidating, quite frankly, it’s a relief. You can release yourself of any expectation of what you “should know” because the truth is that every time you have sex with someone new, you’ll have to learn them all over again — No matter what anatomy they may have.
For what it’s worth, the “roast beef” of it all is just the labia. Some people have a larger labia; others don’t. That doesn’t change the nature of the anatomy, nor does it have any reason to be intimidating for you.
At the end of the day, “good” sex comes down to one thing: Communication. The best way to handle any potential point of awkwardness in bed is by communicating with your partner and listening receptively. (It’s important to note, here, that communication isn’t exclusive to words.)
Regarding your anxiety about the validity of your identity… Once again, I’d like to remind you to take a deep breath. You’re overthinking it.
No one can tell us who you are except for you. Validation must come from the same place, as well. Your actions do not define who you are as a whole; only you can know that.
If you identify as pansexual — and you’ve explored that topic within yourself in a way that allows you to feel confident in that label — then you are. This is regardless of whether you’ve had experience beyond holding a girl’s hand or not.
Allow yourself to remember that labels are fluid. You can change them at any point. There’s no “right” or “wrong” feeling as you go through this journey, and things like having sex with someone with a labia who looks different from yours is one of the many beautiful parts of it. You get to learn what works for you, what doesn’t, and how you want to operate moving forward.
Don’t get too stuck in what “should” be, and let yourself just be. Take a breath. Communicate. Let yourself learn a little. Let yourself grow. I promise that your learning curve is going to be much less difficult than you think — And nobody’s questioning your sexuality while you’re on it.
I hope this helped. You gave me a giggle, and more queer people with vaginas have these anxieties than we can ever truly know. Thank you for allowing me to answer this question publicly so that anyone else with similar anxieties may (hopefully) be able to find some similar solace.
You’ve got this.
AD
Final Remarks
It’s worth noting that Dear Auntie Dyke: Edition IV will be a little different. Rather than diving into a few specific questions, I’ll address a larger group of them in a rapid-fire format. Quick, to the point, and painless: An edition for the simple questions that still deserve to be addressed.
Have a question that feels straightforward, but you just can’t figure out the answer?
Now’s your time to shine!
Submit a question here to have it answered next time around.
And remember: My form is always open for questions of any kind, short and sweet or not. Your identity is kept entirely anonymous and free from judgment.
I look forward to talking to you folks again, soon. Here’s to 2026!
