Linda/Les and Annie and Me (LINDA/LES AND ANNIE, 1989)

I’m tired of talking about JK Rowling. Why did she say that trans people lied about being targeted by Nazis? Because she hates us. Is what she said correct? Obviously not. Historians have spent years compiling evidence contradicting her, and you'll find it with thirty seconds of Googling. 

Does pointing that out stop her? No! She is a rich bully who built a soapbox out of the suckers who play pretend in her sad little wizarding world. Now I have to listen to people reiterate her badly-researched Trivial Pursuit answers about geopolitical issues until we’re all dead in the ground. 

(And then her minions will dig up my torso to prove I was lying about my gender? I am begging y’all to find a more productive hobby. When I dig up a graveyard, folks get cursed.)

Instead, we’re going to talk about a different sort of history: LINDA/LES AND ANNIE, a 1989 direct-to-VHS “docudrama porno” from Annie Sprinkle and Les Nichols that depicts the “first female-to-male transsexual love story.” It is related, though. The transgender health care that made Les a male porn star originated at the Institute of Sexology that was destroyed by Hitler youth in 1933. No matter what Rowling thinks, Nazi propaganda explicitly urged genocide against trans people, and it worked. 

LINDA/LES was made in 1989, four years after I was born. I didn't learn that I could become the kind of man Les is until 2019. I theoretically could have transitioned before I hit puberty, but nobody told me it was an option until I almost hit menopause. One of the reasons Nazis tried to make research on trans people disappear is because they did not want people like me to exist. But I’m here now, and all Nazis everywhere can suck it. 

Speaking of the past: LINDA/LES is a dated cringefest, full of overenthusiastic cis solidarity that is both hilarious and deeply concerning. There is a scene where Sprinkle has a full-on weeping breakdown about how strong Les is, leaving him in the position of comforting her about his social marginalization while also attempting to fuck her with his brand-new dick. There are also multiple icky moments where Sprinkle praises what she sees as Les’s remaining feminine traits, including a creepy moment where she coos over his luscious ‘baby-feeding’ nipples. 

If you're the kind of person who shows up in the Letterboxd reviews of PINK FLAMINGOS to complain about the negative queer representation in John Waters films, you will not enjoy LINDA/LES AND ANNIE. Lest you assume cis people are responsible, Les was an eager collaborator and the script was produced and advised by Johnny Armstrong. It’s hard to call Sprinkle a tourist, as regularly hosting F2M Fraternity at her apartment led to the film’s inception. Today, copies of LINDA/LES include a disclaimer that basically says “sorry we made this in 1989.”

And yet, LINDA/LES is still based on a Huslter essay called (NSFW) “I Love a Woman With a Cock: Busting a Sex Change Cherry.” There’s a valid conversation to be had about whether work like this is exploitative or innovative. It's been happening since 1989. I have nothing new to add. 

I enjoyed LINDA/LES as the inspirational tale of Les Nichols: a hot dude who was brave enough to make a movie about his brand-new cock. LINDA/LES worships at the altar of sexy transmasc hunks, positing our existence like post-factory Fabios. Les is the ultimate free-spirited leather daddy, with loving slow pans over his tattooed torso and Annie’s deliriously horny voiceover hyping him up. The terminology feels clunky sometimes, but who among us has not yearned to be called hot by somebody in fancy lingerie?

LINDA/LES also provides a rare practical glimpse of transmasculine healthcare and sexuality in the 80s. We see detailed explanations of treatments like phalloplasty, as well as the mechanics of sex with a trans body. There are frank interview segments with Les, where he discusses the choices he made and how his life changed for the better. Its an accessible primer by design.

It's still porn. If you're lucky enough to have sex with trans people on a regular basis, you know it’s often beautifully experimental. When Annie says “it’s far out to watch a man frig his clit,” I nod in agreement, because it is. Annie swoons over Les’s body in every scene, tonguing his slit and his dick with equal delight. Watch them as they roll across a satin bedspread, a perfect 90’s porno couple locked in the eternally joyful struggle of getting each other off for the camera and themselves. 

In one scene they’re experimenting with ways to keep Les erect when he realizes he can use his thumb to prop up his dick. Les smirks as Annie lowers herself onto his new finger puppet, quipping “I guess I’m back to lesbian sex.” They both crack up and start to fuck.

In that moment, I relived my first forays into good trans sex. How humanizing and loving it is for your new body to be held in the eyes of someone you desire. The mercy of an easing laugh or lips pressed against a part of your body you've always hidden. What new flesh feels like under a tongue, or what the ridges of scars feel like against teeth. And finally when everything connects, when the first time ever it feels right. What a gift to be reminded that we can all have nights like Annie and Les.

LINDA/LES AND ANNIE is a messy handjob from the past, jagged with static and studded with mistakes. It still touched me. Burn us out of the archives, we'll find each other in pornography. I've never been so proud to be trans.