A conversation recently popped off on Twitter about the relationship between Black cis and trans women and it all started with an episode of Nene Leakes’ podcast (yes, the Queen of GIFs and RHOA icon).

In the episode, TS Madison, a trans woman and cultural powerhouse, shared that she’s romantically and sexually attracted to heterosexual, cisgender men.

Nene responded by saying she personally wouldn’t date a man who’s dated a trans woman because in her eyes, that makes him gay.

Whew.

Clips from the convo hit Twitter like wildfire, sparking debate around the tensions between Black cis and trans women and raising one very real question:

What actually defines a “femme” aesthetic today?

We know beauty is personal. Cultural. Political. But sometimes, the convos we don’t have about gender, attraction, and who gets to be called "real" are the ones that matter most.

Let’s clear this up:

Gender identity = how you see yourself. Woman, man, nonbinary, something else. It’s internal. Personal. Soul-deep.
Sexual attraction = who you’re drawn to romantically or sexually. That’s your orientation.

They’re not interchangeable and understanding that is step one to building community, not confusion.

Now let’s talk about femme and hyper-fem aesthetics, the beat faces, snatched waists, full bodies, flawless lace fronts. The truth? A lot of that expression whether on a cis or trans body is shaped by the same thing: patriarchy and the male gaze. We’ve all been expected to look a certain way to be “accepted” or “desired.” It’s not just about beauty it’s survival, affirmation, power.

And yes, Black trans women and Black cis women often show up in similar ways because we’re navigating similar systems. From gender-affirming surgeries to BBLs, from contour tutorials to the “clean girl” look what’s considered desirable has been pushed on us from every direction. But let’s be clear: trans women didn’t create the standard they’re surviving inside of it, just like us.

There’s also a tricky, often unspoken topic of Black men who are trans-attracted.
For some cis women, it brings up feelings of confusion, betrayal, or even competition. But attraction doesn’t erase anyone’s identity. A man being into a trans woman doesn’t necessarily mean he’s gay. He's just attracted to the presentation of femininity. 

So when we hear things like “Black women wanna look like trans women” let’s pause. That’s not only untrue, it erases the shared roots of our style, our beauty, and our fight. If anything, trans women have long been inspired by cis women, and cis women have drawn power from the boldness of trans expression. It’s a collaboration, not a rivalry.

Let’s be honest: cis Black women not wanting to date men who are trans-attracted is often about fear. Fear of being replaced. Fear of being compared. But what if we looked deeper? At the systems making us feel disposable in the first place?

It’s not you vs. her. It’s us vs. what told us we can’t both shine.

How do we bridge the gap?

Educate ourselves, not shame each other.
See femininity as shared energy—not a competition.
Check the patriarchy—not the people who exist outside of the binary.
Build spaces for real sisterhood—messy, honest, and affirming.

We can hold boundaries and extend grace. We can protect ourselves and unlearn the harm we didn’t create.

Nobody’s asking you to change who you are just to expand how you see.

We’re not all the same. But we all deserve love. Safety. Softness. Space. And when Black women, all Black women, come together? Unstoppable.

Let’s keep learning, keep growing, and keep the convo going.