Trans people are turning to VR as society fails them
“I still remember when I first used VR, I hadn’t cried so much for a long time. Especially being someone that was failed by the NHS [National Health Service],” Levia*, a trans woman living in Britain, explained. “Many trans people cry when they finally feel whole in VRChat.”
Transgender people don’t fit into society’s cisheteronormative understanding of sex and gender, resulting in the feeling of being excluded and underserved. In 2022, the U.S. Transgender Survey found that of respondents who’d been to a doctor in the last year, 48 percent reported at least one negative experience, such as being refused healthcare or being misgendered. Conservatives continually seek to restrict gender affirming care in the U.S. and UK. This, combined with hate crimes on the rise, has contributed to 41 percent of trans people attempting suicide at some point in their lives.
Society is failing trans people, and some are turning to virtual reality (VR) to affirm their gender identity, seek resources, and create community.
An egg-cracking machine
Metaverse game VRChat, where users can embody any avatars they like from e-boys to furries to a cursed Marge Simpson, is one of the biggest VR social platforms by user numbers. According to users Mashable spoke to, it’s also the most common social VR platform trans people are playing. One of the main reasons that VRChat is used over other options, like Meta Horizon Worlds, is due to how freely you can customize your avatar.
Being able to select from a wide range of avatars in a broad spectrum of art styles is fun for anyone, as you can visually embody anyone or anything you’d like. Looking at yourself in the mirror as an avatar, seeing your movements perfectly mimicked by the digital suit you’re wearing, is riveting. But, for transgender people especially, this visual embodiment can be life-changing.
“When I put this avatar on and saw myself in the mirror, I was like oh — my egg cracked at that moment,” Penny Buttercup said, looking at herself in the mirror wearing the feminine avatar that changed her life two years ago. “I felt like me, in a way I never had before.”
“Egg cracking” is a metaphor for when a transgender person realizes their gender identity. In contrast to the idea of “being in the closet” for gay and lesbian identities, which suggests people are intentionally hiding their identity, people who haven’t cracked their egg aren’t consciously aware they are trans.
I felt like me, in a way I never had before.
“It’s like a self-produced protection that people develop in order to deny the possibility that they could come out or transition,” Cáel M. Keegan, associate professor in critical sexuality studies at Concordia University, said. “We’re in an egg but we don’t know we’re in an egg.”
Now looking back, Penny realizes she was in an egg the whole time. There have been signs throughout her life, from not wanting to go shirtless on the beach to creating a chromosome-swapped superhero alter-ego for herself as a kid. But she never realized what it meant until she put on a cute anime avatar at the age of 30.
For this reason, some have described VRChat as an “egg-cracking machine.”
Finding your avatar — for a price
“There’s a special moment that happens when somebody embodies an avatar, because we’re not just staring at a puppet anymore. When you put on that VR headset, you can see your hands and you can see the nuance of your movement. You are that avatar,” Tizzy, the founder of the largest trans community in VRChat, Trans Academy, told Mashable. “For trans people who deal with gender dysphoria, that is incredibly powerful.”
As a result, finding the perfect avatar to embody is of the utmost importance for the trans community. The sheer number and variety of avatars publicly available is astounding: over four million.
“I was having a lot of trouble finding a publicly available avatar that felt like ‘me,’ I couldn’t find that perfect outfit.” Zerelic, a trans VRChat avatar creator, told Mashable. “So instead I decided to, metaphorically, teach myself how to sew.”
Zerelic is now the unofficial “avatar person” for the VRC Trans Academy, and was recently equipped with the task of creating the official avatar for the academy.
Using online marketplaces, like Gumroad, individuals can purchase avatar templates (called bases) as well as clothing, accessories, hairstyles, and more. Using this method, creating an avatar could cost anywhere from $ 30 to $ 300, according to Zerelic.
To do this, you still need some proficiency in tools like Unity and Blender, while being content with the options publicly available — limiting your creativity. In turn, some create, or hire someone to create, their avatar from scratch.
The creator will then need to understand how to use software like Blender, Unity, Photoshop, and Substance Painter in order to get perfect results. Due to this, paying someone to create an avatar from scratch is a costly process, with the most complex avatars being priced above $ 5,000.
While this may seem a lot for a virtual avatar, it’s much cheaper than the hefty price tag that comes with transitioning in real life — $ 140,000 for some.
“Avatar creation can be a literal lifesaver. It enables people who may live in areas where it’s too dangerous to do so, or people who just aren’t in a good enough financial situation, to still be allowed to be who they truly are,” Zerelic said. “I can’t count the amount of times I’ve felt gender euphoria simply from being in my avatar and seeing myself move around in it.”
That said, VR itself comes at a cost: Even the cheapest headsets on the market start at $ 299, requiring a level of monetary privilege to purchase.
For those who can partake, they identify extremely closely with their virtual persona. Some VRChat users’ avatars influence their chosen name and style, or even serve as a reference for facial feminization surgery.
I can’t count the amount of times I’ve felt gender euphoria simply from being in my avatar and seeing myself move around in it.
Creating community
Trans people have created communities on the internet since the earliest chat rooms and forums became available.
“It wasn’t really until the invention of the internet that we got these kinds of disparate trans communities where people could exchange information,” Keegan, who is also special editor of arts and culture at Transgender Studies Quarterly, said. “Since then, it really has been the primary way that trans people engage with one another.”
Prior to the internet, trans activists were publishing in print (see: Virginia Prince and Lou Sullivan) but anti-obscenity laws stunted this practice, Keegan explained. So it wasn’t until the early internet chat rooms that we saw a boom in distribution of trans resources.
The VRC Trans Academy is just the next evolution of this deep-rooted history. Founded in September 2022, the non-profit organization aims to offer resources, classes, and foster a loving community for trans VRChat users.
Now with almost 22,000 group members, the Trans Academy regularly hosts workshops and lectures in their VRChat world. The most popular are classes that focus on feminizing, masculinizing, and androgenizing voices.
“Being authentically perceived by ourselves and others can be such an affirming thing. Voice can play an important part in that perception in both VRChat and in real life,” Tizzy explained. “Voice training isn’t something that is always accessible, oftentimes being gatekept by location or finances. Our ultimate goal at the Trans Academy is to create accessibility.”
The trans and wider LGBTQ+ community have relied on distribution of resources and information through groups like the Trans Academy for a long time, as institutions often lag behind.
“[Doctors and institutions] often know less about the resources than trans people do,” Keegan said. “There’s a whole history of this with the AIDS crisis where it was members of the queer community, in groups like the Treatment and Action Group of Act Up, who knew more about the virus than medical researchers did.”
In the face of institutions repeatedly failing their community, trans people have consistently found themselves in internet spaces to support each other — VR is no different.
If you visit the VRC Trans Academy on any day, you’ll be greeted with a warm hug from trans and queer people. Everyone openly discusses their identities, vents about troubles they’re facing in their life, and supports each other in times of need.
“VR creates a lot of accessibility for community,” Tizzy explained. “If somebody is in a city or a small town where they’re unable to have access to other trans people in real life, you can log into VRChat. And you can suddenly have access to tens of thousands of people who are all going through what you’re going through.”
While VR presents a beacon of hope for many, the high cost serves as a barrier for entry. As a result, there exist numerous narratives untold, communities unformed, and struggles unacknowledged.
“The readable history of trans identity tends to be a white one. It’s what ends up getting studied or written about,” Keegan said. “There are all kinds of other ways that this happens that aren’t as easily investigated.”
Historical oversight isn’t novel, it’s a recurring pattern. Accessible stories are often the ones that form our history books, leaving behind libraries of untold tales and unexplored truths.
VR is a powerful tool for trans people, albeit an inaccessible one for now.
“I think of the me in the virtual space as the me I aspire to be,” Levia finished. “So I’ll work towards it.”
* Names for VRChat players are their online personas, some of which have transferred to in-person names.