Meth and the invisible erection: a transgender woman’s story

By Vivianna Hernandez

By now we’ve all heard it: “Meth feels better than an orgasm.” Some get “crystal dick,” but others say meth “gives you a hard-on for days.” It is precisely that “coveted erection” that silences transgender females. For pre-op transgender women, that “coveted erection” is both a curse and a “life-saver.”

The curse: We spend much of our lives ensuring that society will see us as women. We try to erase through hormones, silicone and surgeries all traces of “maleness” so what we see in the mirror matches what we know is intrinsically inside of us. We struggle daily, we pray, and we hope that what our souls have known for years will finally be recognized and accepted by our families, friends and lovers. So we ignore this erection and its link to meth. We remain silent to protect our concept of who we are and who we struggle so hard to be.

The “life-saver:” For many transgender women, especially Latinas, the combination of limited formal education, language barriers, lack of immigration documents and a transphobic work environment means there are very few employment options. We’re forced to engage in survival-sex work to pay the rent and bills, and just get a meal in our stomachs. More often than not, this work requires us to engage in sexual acts that go against our gender identity and our desire to be seen and treated as women. The ugly reality is that most of our “customers” require that we be “sexually functional,” or so-called “tops,” and demand that we penetrate them. And, as in any other business, “the customer is always right.”

In 1994, a client of mine requested that we use meth to “play.” Within months, I was addicted and found myself using as part of my daily sex-work routine. My heart and soul were forced to endure seven years of severe meth abuse, routine prostitution arrests and countless inhumane experiences. Finally, in 2001, I became the first transgender woman to successfully complete the Los Angeles County jail’s SMART recovery program, where I began to learn how to love and respect my soul and body.

After going clean, I struggled to survive without resorting to sex work. It remains one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. For five years, I barely survived on a Social Security check and lived at a dirty, dilapidated hotel on Santa Monica Boulevard. I consistently attended Bienestar’s transgender support groups, just so I could eat something other than Cup o’ Noodles.

Today, I’m a health educator at Bienestar, and my vivid memories of this time in my life allow me to break the silence and engage my transgender sisters in needed conversations. At Bienestar, we’re talking about it, we’re breaking the silence, and today we’re engaging you. The next time you talk about meth, talk about transgender women. The next time you talk about employment discrimination, talk about meth. The next time you talk about immigration, poverty or drug addiction, remember you’re talking about human beings.

Vivianna Hernandez is a health educator with Bienestar. For more information about Bienestar, visit www.bienestar.org.