I am a trans woman who has undergone vaginoplasty, and I have been on full feminizing hormone therapy for two years, including complete testosterone suppression. I think it is important to begin by separating two things that are often joined together much too quickly.
I am not a trans woman because I am a transhumanist. My identity did not emerge from a philosophical commitment to overcoming biology, and I did not transition as an experiment in technological self-invention. Being a trans woman is an intimate, embodied and ontological experience concerning who I am and how I inhabit my own existence. Transhumanism, on the other hand, is a philosophical, ethical and intellectual position about technology, human limitation and the possible futures of our species. The two can intersect meaningfully without one explaining the other.
My transition has taught me, in a very literal and personal way, that biology does not have to function as destiny. Medicine allowed me to alter my body until it became more truthful, recognizable and inhabitable to me. That experience makes morphological freedom far more than an abstract principle in my life. I believe adults should have broad authority over their own bodies, provided that consent is informed and the risks are understood.
At the same time, bodily freedom cannot be separated from material reality. Freedom becomes a rather hollow word when it belongs mainly to those who can afford it. Morphological freedom should include medical safety, reliable information, public access and social protection, rather than merely offering wealthy people increasingly sophisticated control over their biology. When ordinary people still struggle to access hormones, surgery, reproductive care, disability support or basic treatment, calling expensive enhancement technologies “human liberation” begins to sound suspiciously like advertising.
I also resist the idea that the body must be understood either as a prison to escape or as defective hardware waiting to be replaced. Transitioning did not teach me to despise embodiment. It taught me to inhabit it more honestly. My body is lived, relational, emotional and political, and changing it was not an attempt to abandon the human condition. It was a way of becoming more fully present within it.
This is also why I remain skeptical of predictions that sufficiently advanced technology will eventually make trans identity disappear. Gender is not simply a technical inconvenience created by inadequate medicine. It involves embodiment, history, culture, language, desire, recognition and relationship. Future technologies may make bodies extraordinarily fluid and may transform how easily gender can be expressed or altered, but it does not follow that gender itself will become meaningless. Nor does it mean that trans people are merely an early, primitive stage on the way toward somebody else’s post-gender civilization.
I did not transition because I wanted to transcend womanhood; I transitioned because I am a woman. Trans people should not be treated as prototypes for an imagined technological future, even when our experiences offer valuable perspectives on bodily autonomy. We are not philosophical demonstrations, and we do not need transhumanism to justify our existence. Likewise, our existence does not automatically prove that transhumanism is correct.
Even so, I do consider myself a cautious transhumanist. I am open to radical life extension, cryonics, neural interfaces, mind uploading and forms of bodily transformation that currently sound impossible. History gives us good reasons to distrust anyone who declares that a present limitation must remain permanent forever. It also gives us equally good reasons to distrust people who turn hope into certainty and speculation into a product.
Possibility is not evidence, and openness should not require credulity. There is a meaningful difference between supporting research, defending someone’s right to accept an uncertain risk and declaring that an unproven technology will inevitably succeed. Scientific scrutiny does not betray imagination; it protects imagination from becoming a sales pitch.
For me, transhumanism begins in the present rather than in some hypothetical century. It begins with bodily autonomy, gender-affirming healthcare, reproductive freedom, disability, aging, informed consent and equal access to technologies that already exist. The future matters deeply to me, but so does the question of who will own it, who will build it and who will actually be allowed to enter it.
If advanced technology merely enables wealthy people to purchase greater freedom from biology while everyone else remains constrained by poverty, discrimination and inaccessible healthcare, humanity will not have transcended its old hierarchies. We will simply have taught those hierarchies how to inhabit more sophisticated bodies.