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My First Packer – A Gender Affirming Expedition

My First Packer – A Gender Affirming Expedition

I hardly slept the night before. My hands held the space between my thighs where my new packer would soon live, and my heart raced with anticipation. Even though my circle was supportive when I came out a few months earlier, I was still nervous.  As a middle-eastern queer, I already faced judgement and being unsure of my place on the gender spectrum felt even more alienating. 

The question I would return to over again before finally zipping up my spine and sharing my truth publicly was, “how much longer are you going to put everyone else’s comfort ahead of yours, Yaz?” It was time for the world to make space for me and trade in their discomfort for my reality.  I scoured the loud and wonderful queer social media spaces for items to create my own Gender Affirming Kit. Finally, a way to freely play with my gender expression. 

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want validation. The thought of someone calling me handsome, or catching their eyes lingering a moment too long on the cock concealed under my clothes felt exhilarating. I know that I don’t have to look a certain way to validate my identity, really I do. Still, knowing that I could use the power of clothing and silicone to be more than the feminine creature that I’m expected to be, is a big deal for me. 

I made an appointment with a local sex store and arranged to go with my submissive (more about that another time, ya?) Seeing all of those dicks on the wall, in a mesmerizing display of colours, shapes, and sizes, made my eyes water. The stress hit me before the excitement did, but just for a moment… okay, maybe two. “Which one is mine?” I asked myself as  I scanned for selection, secretly hoping one of the dildos might say, “Hey, ya, it’s me. I’m your dick.” So I did the only thing I could imagine at that moment, I closed my eyes and felt each squishy, silicone shaft in my palm and waited for one to connect with me.  

I ended up choosing a dildo and a packer (a penis-ish type object that packs in your pants to give the appearance of a bulge) in a skin tone that matched mine best. The packer is held in place with a special pair of boxers that includes a little pouch for the babe to nestle in, and the dildo got a super sexy black leather harness. Next, I needed a binder. I had one already, but I could never manage to breathe in. Choosing between breathing and dysphoria is pretty shitty. But I found a new one that did its job and allows my lungs to work. 

I let my items sleep in their packaging untouched that evening because I was too nervous. The next morning, I put the packer in my pants and slid a button-down over my binder, took a deep breath, and looked up at myself. I looked amazing, but I felt even better. After a few days of wearing my gear in my own company, I was ready to take them out into the world. 

Now each day I wake up, I get to decide with a lot more freedom how I want to show up. Catching people eyeing me with that look of confusion on their faces will never get easier. Knowing that some spaces may be dangerous for me when presenting as more masculine still makes me feel nervous. Having support gives me the courage to stand up and believe in myself and the person I want to be.

I’m Yaz. Sometimes I have a dick in my pants. 

About the writer


Yaz (they/them), is a queer, non-binary, POC human from Toronto who prioritizes pleasure. They're sick of societal shame that pressures people to hide parts of themselves to be more digestable, so here's the deal; Yaz is a movement encourager and a sex worker. They teach sensual, playful based movement practices as a way to develop self-intimacy and take space in the world of sensual domination. When they're not in the middle of living the things, they're probably writing about it.

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