roach

Now, like a lot of terms trans people have reclaimed for our sexualities, the idea of roachification started as a transphobic term to describe “what happens” to someone going through a transmasculine transition. If you feel like being upset, you can go on Urban Dictionary and find a definition neatly sketched out that reiterates all of the above-described fearmongering in a single sentence:

“the process of a ftm or trans masculine person metamorphisizing from a beautiful girl to the most disgusting, vile, greasy, horrific boy there ever has been, in extreme cases; an incel.... or sid from skins.”

Even disregarding the transphobia inherent in the idea that an unhappy but “beautiful” cis girl, is more valuable than a happy but “disgusting” transmasc, I think this person is just making up a strawtrans to get mad at. The incel accusation makes me laugh—the famously open, accepting, gender expansive incel community. The community of cishet men who are so misogynistic they disparage the idea of being kind to anyone they think is a woman. Just overflowing with trans people, I’m sure.

Getting away from the transphobia, how does one reclaim the idea of roachification? I believe it lies in accepting every part of transmasculine transition, including the parts that may, actually, be perceived as ugly, gross, and/or a downgrade from a previously-attained cis womanhood. Allow me to explain.

Fundamentally, anyone going on any sort of HRT is going through puberty a second time. It’s being a teenager again, which is why so many trans people go through a sort of “second adolescence” if they transition later in life. You get to discover yourself all over again, and that’s a beautiful thing! But, just like being a teenager, there are things that make you feel weird, uncomfortable, or insecure.

Considering testosterone here: your skin breaks out, you gain weight, you grow hair in places you’re not used to, you get hungry, and you get horny. Speaking only for myself, I had to up my snack budget because I was destroying family-sized bags of chips by myself. I would wake up in the morning, masturbate, go to work, masturbate as soon as I clocked out, and then one more time right before bed (okay sometimes I still do that). My skin was already oily, but it’s greasy now. There’s the inside joke in that the hair on your ass grows in before T even touches your facial hair—and when it does grow in, it can be patchy, uneven, and weird looking. Your voice cracks make you sound like you’re 13 and your body odor smells way stronger. Transition can be awkward and uncomfortable, and, yes, you might even feel a little gross.

But why is that bad? The journey to becoming more of who you are might be a little messy, but I think that’s a perfect excuse to play in the mud.

Consider roachification as the gendered opposite of bimbofication. For a transmasc who is moving from a status of “beautiful young lady” to “gross, sweaty man” it can be hard to release the fear of losing that conditional acceptance, but a great way to combat that fear is to indulge in it. Lean in and explore the “ugly” parts of transition. It might turn out that you like slouching around with a hand in your pants, gorging yourself on snacks and your brain-melting media of choice, throwing on whatever you picked out of the laundry pile this morning, and forgetting to shower for a few days. You’ll realize you kinda stink. Maybe you like that, too.

Roachification is about playing in the mud. It’s about reveling in the behaviors that are supposed to disgust you. It’s about the hedonism of the base instinct, doing what your body desires with absolutely no higher functioning involved. It’s the idea of moving from an uptight, controlled appearance that you can’t relax into, even when you’re alone, into the kind of vulgar bliss that comes from sitting in the same spot all day and rubbing one out without washing your hands. Your dick is calling and that’s the only thing that matters, after all. And when you’re done, you sit in your dry cum for a few more hours before getting up to clean off—and, hell, might as well jerk off in the shower while you’re at it.

If transition turns you back into a teenager, roachification is about embracing your inner teenage boy who has full run of his parents’ basement. It’s about being sloppy, gross, horny, and not caring that you’re acting that way. The greatest balm to any insult is being able to say “lol, so what?” and roachification puts the power back in your hands. To enjoy being disgusting, vile, greasy, and horrific. To become what you always feared, and realize you like it better.

Obviously, I didn’t come up with the idea of roachification myself. I am not the first person to make any of these observations, and I will certainly not be the last, but the longer I’ve sat with these thoughts, the truer they feel to me. The more I think about this kink, the more important it is to me.

I love roachification as a way to show a transmasculine person finally being able to relax out of femininity. Not just leaving it behind, but being too lazy to pick it back up once the masculinity “takes over.” Now that you’re comfortable enough to be lazy, dirty, and self-indulgent, why would you ever go back? I love a transmasc leaning into who they are—including, perhaps especially, if who they are is smelly and sweaty and hedonistic.

As for myself? I love my transmasculine transition and everything it does to my body. I even love the things I thought I’d hate, because the fearmongering got to me too. It was only by transitioning did I realize just how wrong that transphobic “advice” was, so now I’m more than happy to indulge in my “ugliness.” Being smelly, greasy, hairy, and horny has never felt more liberating, and it’s only going to “get worse” by these people’s standards. Frankly, I welcome it.

Transmasculine sexuality shouldn’t be confined to the narrow box mainstream sexuality has decided it needs to fit in. Trans men and mascs deserve to become who we are, unapologetically, and every aspect of transmasculinity deserves to be captured in perverted amber. We deserve to make our transitions as erotic as we damn well please, regardless of who jumps out of the woodwork to complain that we were prettier when we shaved. We deserve to be human beings, with the full range of beauty and ugliness that can be attributed to any person.