The Whiteification of Trans Womanhood: A Eurocentric Parasite
(Pt: The Whiteification of Trans Womanhood: A Eurocentric Parasite /end pt)
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Full disclosure here: I am by NO MEANS the voice of BIPOC. Everything that I am saying here is being outsourced from things that BIPOC have spoken on for YEARS, and I simply wish to spread this very important message!!
I highly recommend looking for and following the accounts of BIPOC to educate yourselves. For example, @checkyourasianbias, @this-is-orientalism, @this-is-antiblackness, @creatingblackcharacters, @i-suggest-landback, and more!
1! Eurocentrism has DEVASTATED modern perceptions on trans manhood, nonbinarity, intersexuality, and even binary pericis womanhood & manhood as well, but that's not the main focus of this essay. Still a very important thing to note, and I highly encourage people to talk about that as well!!!
2! Anytime topics of procedures come up, I am *NOT SAYING* that they are EXCLUSIVE to trans women. I am simply discussing them within the contexts OF trans womanhood. I highly recommend people discuss and make posts about these procedures in contexts of other gender experiences, too!! That's just not what this post is focused on.
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Facial "feminization" surgery (FFS): Surgical whitewashing.
(Pt: Facial "feminization" surgery (FFS): Surgical whitewashing. /end pt)
Facial "feminization" is a procedure done to soften the features of the face into something more aligned with media's perception of femininity. Many trans women seek out these procedures to alleviate dysphoria or disconnect they feel towards their own faces.
However, the steps involved in this procedure are - to put it frankly - eurocentric. Facial features associated with non-white people are erased, unless specifically requested otherwise!! And even the requests aren't always taken seriously!!
Eurocentric features should not be considered the "standard"!! The fact that it is considered such shows a severe lack of inclusion of BIPOC doctors & perspectives in the standardization of the procedure.
Across all articles you find about FFS, there are some key standouts that cannot be ignored. Let's take some quotes from this one (link) an this one (link.)
1: "An eyebrow lift will raise the position of the eyebrows on the face. A blepharoplasty can also be performed to remove excess skin in the eyelids, giving them a larger appearance."
2: "In older patients, the eyelids may also be lifted to open the eyes and achieve a more feminine look. The incisions for an eyelid lift can either be hidden in the crease of the eyelid or placed behind it to minimize visible incisions."
^ Two things to deconstruct here!! First of all, the "giving the eyelids a larger appearance" thing is BLATANT orientalism. You do not need "large eyes" to be feminine, and removing an ethnic feature to achieve "femininity" says a LOT about how you view feminine people within said ethnicity.
Secondly, this is unrelated to race, but still of note - the "in older patients" thing implying that sagging faces are somehow less feminine. As if wrinkles should not exist for women! As if womanhood can only be achieved through "youthfulness"!
1: "The surgeon can perform a nose-reshaping operation called a rhinoplasty (sometimes called a nose job) to reduce the width and shape of the nose. The procedure can involve cutting or reshaping the bones as well as the cartilage. A rhinoplasty can also shape the bridge and the tip of the nose to give them a more delicate appearance."
2: "Rhinoplasty (nose reshaping) can change the appearance of the nose. Most commonly, FFS patients request that the bridge of the nose be made thinner and the tip to be inverted, giving the nose a slight upward turn. Patients can also request to adjust the nostrils if they would like."
^ Black people and Latino people often have larger noses, and many Asian races have wide or prominent noses as well! This once again implies that races that commonly have wide noses are "unfeminine", and has many disgusting implications about nonwhite femininity!
"The chin and jaw can be reduced or contoured through mandible contouring and genioplasty procedures."
^ Black people tend to have prominent lower jaws! Why does the jaw need "reducing" to be feminine? Need I say more than what I have already? Treating this as a standardized thing across all races has a detrimental impact on how Black femininity is viewed!
There have been multiple professional articles about this issue, but it is still not spoken about enough.
Here is one article deep-diving into the matter: “What Does Feminine Mean to You?” The Surgeon’s Role in Guiding Pre-Surgical Decision Making for Facial Feminization Surgery (link)
Central to the ethical complexity of FFS is the evolving understanding of femininity itself. “Traditional femininity” was previously defined by persistent traits, appearances, interests, and behaviors that were considered more typical of women. This framework reflects the strictly binary history of gender. Today, gender and femininity are increasingly recognized as fluid and multifaceted, shaped by intersecting identities, cultural norms, and individual meaning. Studies have found variance across age, culture, and sexual orientation, further underscoring that femininity is neither homogeneous nor fixed. While the experience of femininity is deeply personal, it is also interpreted through a social lens that informs how gender is externally perceived. As contemporary feminist scholarship affirms, patients draw from both their internal identity and external cultural cues to create an individualized vision of femininity.
Despite this, Plemons’ ethnographic analysis, completed through observation of FFS surgical consultations, reveals that “neutral” femininity in FFS often becomes a proxy for whiteness. He documents how facial features marked as “ethnic,” such as a Greek nose, Filipino jaw, or Irish ears, are frequently labeled as excessive and masculine within surgical discourse, leading to their surgical modification not only to achieve a feminine form, but inadvertently to align the patient more closely with Eurocentric ideals. In these clinical encounters, femininity is implicitly defined in opposition to both masculinity and non-white ethnic specificity, creating a problematic entanglement where the pursuit of femininity may overlap with the erasure of cultural features. Such outcomes are not necessarily the goal of patients or surgeons but may emerge from an esthetic framework that focuses on softening of facial features to the historic “norm.” For transgender patients of color, this can generate a conflict between affirming gender identity and maintaining connection to racial or cultural heritage. This broadly highlights the importance of involving ethnic identity as part of the discussion during standard preoperative consultations.
Another challenging esthetic ideal embedded in FFS consultation involves the conflation of femininity with youthfulness. Features such as full cheeks, smooth skin, and narrow jawlines are not only seen as feminine but also as youthful, thus leading to an overlap in esthetic goals that can blur the line between procedures aimed at alleviating gender dysphoria and those rooted in cosmetic enhancement. One study that used artificial intelligence (AI) to assess age and gender perception using facial recognition software found that female faces were perceived as more masculine if they were older. This study further assessed patient satisfaction using the FACE-Q patient reported outcome measure modules, and found that post-FFS satisfaction with overall facial appearance was higher with a younger perceived age. This raises a critical ethical question of which procedures are truly gender-affirming, and which reflect broader social pressures around beauty and age? In practice, this distinction is difficult to make but may not be necessary. If the aim of gender-affirming care is to support patients in achieving a sense of self-congruence and social recognition, then the patient’s subjective goals warrant equal consideration. Rather than drawing hard boundaries between reconstructive and cosmetic intent, FFS exists along a spectrum, where personal affirmation is the most meaningful outcome.
Still, when patients present for FFS consultation, they require the medical expertise of the surgeon to help bring their vision of femininity to life. As is inherent in such shared decision-making, the surgeons’ perceptions of femininity and philosophy on FFS may influence operative approaches and overall planning. Some empirical studies suggest broad alignment between transgender women and FFS surgeons in identifying features perceived as feminine. For example, Ching et al examined perceptions of femininity and ideal surgical outcomes in transgender females, non-transgender females, and plastic surgeons to enhance communication of goals and expected outcomes in FFS. They found that transgender females and plastic surgeons favored a narrower nasal tip, more acute supratip angle, and more obtuse mandibular gonial angle when ranking features on perceived femininity and attractiveness. These areas of agreement may reflect shared exposure to dominant esthetic ideals or may illustrate how transgender women, in seeking to “pass” and avoid misgendering, internalize prevailing standards. However, closer analysis reveals divergences. For example, surgeons were more likely to recommend an obtuse gonial angle and smaller nasal dorsum as ideal. This further underscores the importance of elucidating which features may be contributing to patients’ gender dysphoria when doing technical preoperative consultations to ensure that surgical planning aligns with patient goals.
Facial feminization surgery is an essential part of gender affirming care. Surgeons must continuously grapple with how to offer expertise without imposing norms. Moreover, they must empower patients without abandoning them to navigate complex decisions alone. A more ethically sound model of FFS consultation would emphasize patient-defined goals, critically interrogate esthetic biases, and seek to support patients in articulating a vision of femininity that is authentically their own. As the field continues to grow, further research is needed to develop structured, ethics-informed approaches to preoperative consultation that honor the diversity and dignity of transgender patients pursuing facial gender-affirming care.
Unfortunately the other main study on this (link) is locked behind a paywall and scihub.ru doesn't have it, so I can only share the summary. Quote!
1: "Facial feminization surgery (FFS) is a key component of gender-affirming care, yet the field has historically been shaped by Eurocentric esthetic norms, with limited consideration of racial and ethnic differences in facial structure and sociocultural perceptions of femininity."
2: "Nine studies comprising 778 patients were included. Findings highlighted significant racial disparities in procedural selection, with African American, Asian, and Hispanic patients being less likely to undergo cranioplasty or rhinoplasty. Anthropometric studies revealed racial differences in nasolabial angle, chin dimensions, and mandibular flare. Social perception studies indicated an implicit whitening of femininity in FFS esthetics. However, race was not a significant predictor of revision rates or postoperative complications."
To finish off this conversation, I want to share a news article (link) from a Pakistani trans woman who noticed this exact issue! There's two particular quotes that really stand out to me!
Talking to my Black and brown trans sisters, I heard regrets. Some felt their surgeons had made them more womanly in ways that echoed whiteness: smaller noses, pointed chins, almond-shaped eyes. I wondered, what does femininity look like outside of whiteness? When I imagined my own femininity, I saw women like Abida Parveen and Noor Jehan: distinctive Pakistani faces with smaller chins, lower hairlines, and higher lips, but big noses.
By early 2024, I’d narrowed my search to three doctors and reached out to one. On the phone, I began to explain how I wanted to look like myself after the procedure, inclusive of my Pakistani features and with only minor adjustments to my nose. The doctor made me feel like I didn’t know what I was talking about. “Well, if we don’t change the shape of your nose, you won’t really get that feminized face you’re looking for,” she said to me. I never called her back.
Soon, Dr. Rosenberg came in with a three-dimensional rendering of my face. He pointed to each part and explained the changes he intended to make, showing me how he was only going to work with the features I already had instead of trying to shape me into something new. I agreed with everything he showed me — until we got to my nose.
He said that medical sciences agreed that there were three steps necessary to make a nose more feminized: shorten the length, smooth out any dorsal humps, and lower the projection of the nasal bridge. I was okay with bringing my nasal bridge down, but I certainly didn’t want my nose to be shorter or to lose the small hump I had before my nostril. I told Dr. Rosenberg I didn’t care what “medical sciences” said. I was not going to walk out of there looking European.
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The masculinization of Black hair in trans women.
(PT: The masculinization of Black hair in trans women. /end PT)
Black trans women have their femininity put under scrutiny for the length and texture of their hair. Black cis women are also put through this, but for Black trans women, it's used as "evidence" that they aren't "trying hard enough to be a woman."
Here are some general resources about the way Black hair is treated (not necessarily related to transness):
"Research Suggests Bias Against Natural Hair Limits Job Opportunities for Black Women" (link)
"How Natural Black Hair at Work Became a Civil Rights Issue" (link)
"The Person Beneath the Hair: Hair Discrimination, Health, and Well-Being" (link)
A few important quotes from "Hair Discrimination FAQ" (link)! Once again, not trans women specific, but adds important context to the views of hair in Black people (especially girls & women) in a general sense! (Note that the studies in question are USA-centric, but the sentiment extends beyond the USA!)
A 2020 study by Michigan State University and Duke University titled “The Natural Hair Bias in Job Recruitment found that Black women face the highest likelihood of being subjected to hair discrimination. The research suggests that Black women with natural hairstyles are less likely to get interviews than white women or Black women with straightened hair.
Additionally, researchers found that participants viewed Black hairstyles like afros, twists or braids as less professional. The study determined that Black women with natural hairstyles are less likely to land job interviews than white women or Black women with straightened hair.
A 2019 study by Dove found that Black women are 1.5 times more likely to be sent home from the workplace because of their hair. 80 percent of Black women reported feeling that they needed to switch their hairstyle to align with more conservative standards in order to fit in at work.
Black people have also lost their jobs or had job offers revoked because of hair discrimination. In EEOC v. Catastrophe Management Solutions, Chasity Jones, a Black woman in Alabama alleged she was offered a job that was then rescinded when she refused to cut her locs. The EEOC filed a lawsuit against Catastrophe Management Solutions, claiming the company rescinded the job offer based on harmful stereotypes about Black hair being naturally unprofessional.
Some school policies that ban natural and protective styles are grounds for discipline or removal from school, meaning Black students have been denied educational opportunities because of their hair. 66 percent of Black girls in majority-white schools report experiencing hair discrimination. School grooming policies that ban culturally significant hairstyles deny students valuable instructional time by removing students from the classroom, causing them to miss out on lessons. Black students across the country have been asked to cut or straighten their hair to meet dress codes and grooming policies. When Black students wear their hair in culturally significant hairstyles, they are disproportionately singled out and disciplined for violating various regulations and policies. Some school districts have banned specific Black hairstyles, which prevent students from attending school events like prom, extracurricular and sports activities, and even graduation. Additionally, some educators and sports officials are pulling Black girls from athletic competitions until they remove their beads from their braids. A New Jersey high school wrestler was forced to cut off his locs by a referee before a match.
Quote from "The Trans Agenda: Why Is Black Hair Viewed As Masculine?" (link) by Ivana Fischer!
Black trans women are often masculinized based on their hair alone. They are expected to make their hair as long and untextured as possible, rather than embracing the natural flow of their hair.
The way that Black women are socialized based on the way our hair looks often causes us to have negative self-images. Short, natural hair is masculinized by way of being called nappy, unkempt, animalistic, and so on. We are chastised by the media, and by those within our own community, for how we choose to wear our hair. Thus, many Black women ‘loc it up (pun intended) in an effort to save themselves from ridicule.
And there’s nothing wrong with rocking a few extra inches! It does, however, become a problem when we mistreat our hair for the sake of upholding societal standards of beauty. It becomes a problem when we allow for the continued perpetuation of anti-blackness in regard to our hair. It becomes a problem when what is seen as “manageable” and, therefore, beautiful, is reserved to those with loose, wavy curls. What’s under our coveted weaves, wigs, and sew-ins deserve love and appreciation, too.
For Black trans women in particular, this is an extremely difficult conundrum to navigate, especially in a world where many people have preconceived notions about our gender identities. Our appearances are policed from the way we dress, to our muscle densities, to the levels of bass in our voices and beyond, so for a Black trans woman to have short, kinky hair would inevitably invite some transphobic behavior. We are not rewarded the same representational leeway as, say, a white trans women, in that our transitions are invalidated up until the point that we put a wig on. We risk getting misgendered, jeered at, and threatened if we do not endorse the stereotypical notion of long hair equating to femininity.
Quote from "A Letter To Black Trans Women" (link) also by Ivana Fischer!
In a society built on the subordination of Blackness, it is easy to identify the ways Black women’s features are unjustly categorized as masculine and brutish. The messages lobbed at women who rock their locs, braids and TWAs often challenge the validity of Black femininity. Whether these insults are implied or straight-up, Black women’s natural beauty is constantly under attack.
So we often cling to our pieces, units and bundles as a way to amplify self-confidence and deter any negativity surrounding our appearances. From the time we start growing hair, we are influenced by society — and by people within our own community — to braid it down, tuck it back and adhere to these restrictive standards of beauty.
For Black trans women like me, this can be an extremely difficult conundrum to navigate. We are bombarded with prejudice based on preconceived notions about our gender identities and how we should present. For us to go without rocking a few extra inches in — at the very least, a cheap Shake-n-Go — would constitute an invitation for every aspect of our biologies to be called into question. From our body types, to our muscle densities, to the amount of bass in our voices, Black trans women are too often picked apart and ridiculed. If you think Black cisgender women are held to the most unforgiving societal standards of natural beauty, think again.
The start of my transition was a rocky sea of trials and tribulations. I valued certain traditional markers of femininity and having short, kinky, natural hair made difficult for me to attain them. I couldn’t move through the world without getting jeered at and catcalled. My identity was constantly called into question. A day never went by without me having to talk about the trans stuff.
The levels of ignorance I experienced in my daily life led me to adopt wigs as shields of honor. If I had a nickel for every time I got asked, “Where’s your hair?” I’d be rich. I remember one instance in particular, when I told a friend that going out without hair felt like a death sentence to me. That may seem a bit over dramatic but my mental health — and my hair — was tested time and time again.
So I clung to wigs and weaves. I reveled in the (bad) extensions and the butt-length braids. I did everything I could to hide my natural hair from the world, so as to not get ridiculed and taunted. Truth be told, it worked for a while. However, whatever solace I found in these devices quickly turned into extreme disgust of my natural hair.
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The intersection of beauty standards against fatness & race in trans womanhood.
(Pt: The intersection of beauty standards against fatness & race in trans womanhood. /end pt)
Quotes from "Reclaiming Beauty: Non-Heteronormative and Racialised Conversations on Fatness and Transness" (link)!
(Important context! This article took place in Mexico & Brazil, and centered around Travesti folks! Travesti is a cultural gender, and not all Travesti identify as women, but many do, and even those who don't identify as women often hold some degree of cultural connection to womanhood.)
Research on Black, Indigenous, and Brown women’s experiences highlights the struggle of navigating daily life under the fear of racialised ugliness.
It has long been established that racialised identities, whether privileged or disadvantaged, are shaped by historical and cultural power relations that position Indigenous, Black Afrodescendants, Asian, mestizo (mixed-race), and white people within a relational hierarchy. In contexts like Latin America —though not uniquely— colonial legacies have assigned positive value to whiteness, while ‘less 11 white’ bodies have been devalued, marginalised, and dehumanised. Representations of physical beauty predominantly centre whiteness, associating it with desirable bodies, while non-whiteness on darker bodies becomes linked to unattractiveness and disgust.
Beauty ideals —rooted in Eurocentrism, whiteness, thinness, and heterosexuality— are deeply tied to colonial history and scientific racism, shaping femininity and drawing significant critique within feminism, particularly from Black women authors who exposed how these ideals perpetuate gender and racial inequalities. Notions of racialised embodiment, both in advantage and disadvantage, legitimise the consideration of fatphobia as ‘a Eurocentric colonial technology’. This technology operates on a dichotomy between an ‘us’ characterised by white thinness (the standard of humanity) and a ‘them’ defined by non-white, racialised fatness. This tense, mirror-like relationship highlights what the ‘permitted body’ should embody by reflecting what it must not be. The binarism of these categories becomes more acute, as we have seen, when the gender dimension is included, as it is non-white, fat women who are more reproved and discriminated against for their body size than men, serving as cautionary figures that reinforce body control mechanisms for other women.
Moreover, we can observe particular tensions around the experiences of travestis with mixedrace and Black bodies in a culture that elevates white beauty ideals. Brazil’s national identity, constructed around the myth of ‘racial democracy’, promotes the sensual mestizo or mulatto as a key symbol of Brazilian identity, obscuring a deeper racial hierarchy rooted in a Black/white binary complicated by a social allowance of mixedness. Despite this idealised image, the legacy of eugenics remains strong, with whiteness positioned as the normative and aspirational standard. In stark contrast, a presumed purely Black African heritage appearance, without any apparent racial mixing involving white features, is often equated with ugliness in Brazil, as it is in many other Latin American contexts. This brings particular intensities to the relationships between racism and beauty. These notions help us better interpret the practices that travestis in Brazil (similar to cis women) engage in to whiten their appearance. It is common to see travestis proudly displaying tan lines from their bikinis under tiny or strapless tops, showing how ‘white’ their untanned skin is in contrast to the rest of their body. Some also enhance their appearance by wearing blue or green cosmetic contact lenses, dyeing their hair blonde, and undergoing cosmetic surgeries like rhinoplasties, with small, narrow noses being highly valued —even among Black travestis.
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(Pt: Special mentions! /end PT)
"Claiming femininity in a world that polices it" (link)! This article is written by Trinetra Haldar Gummeraju, an Indian trans woman, who is also an actress!
In the mirror, I see a woman shaped by time, choice, and intention. A face softened by estrogen, a body that moves through the world with a quiet confidence hard-earned through transition. Femininity, once far into a distant horizon, now feels familiar—something I live rather than chase. But to access this femininity in a world where beauty is rigidly defined is to understand how power and desirability have long been governed by history, geography, and privilege. To be a trans woman is to know, intimately, that beauty is not merely an aesthetic; it is a currency. One that determines who is seen, who is safe, who is celebrated.
To access that currency is to engage with standards shaped by colonial pasts and globalised presents. In an industry still captivated by the aesthetics of whiteness, accessing femininity as a trans woman is fraught with contradiction. Beauty, here, is both freedom and confinement, self-expression and social contract, empowerment and erasure.
Beauty, as we experience it today, is an inheritance of colonial violence. The privileging of light skin, sharp noses, delicate jaws—these are not biological truths but cultural impositions of a time when racial hierarchies were reinforced through aesthetic norms. In India, this inheritance remains visible in the ubiquity of fairness creams, the choice of actors being cast in films, and the casual assumption of who is considered “classy” or “refined”.
To be a trans woman navigating this terrain is to witness the ways in which gender and race intersect with startling clarity. Femininity, for us, is not merely a birthright; it is something we are told must be earned. And yet, even after the endless medical, legal, and social labour of transition, we find ourselves judged not only on the authenticity of our womanhood but on its adherence to these inherited ideals.
"Non-hegemonic beauties: a critical approach to beauty in (trans)national contexts" (link)!
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