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Autoheterosexual: Attracted to Being the Other Sex
THE MOST COMMON KIND OF TRANS
There are two known types of transgenderism. One is associated with homosexuality and the other with a sexual attraction to being the other sex. Some trans people see these transgender categories as existential threats, or even suppress knowledge of them. But this cover-up actually harms trans people—it damages their ability to properly interpret their experiences and give truly informed consent for hormones or surgeries. In Attracted to Being the Other Sex , Phil Illy curates evidence from more than a century of sexual research to present a superior model of transgenderism. This intensely researched book will help autoheterosexuals understand themselves and bring greater self-awareness and agency to the decision-making process around gender transition. Gain a better understanding of not only this most common form of trans identity, but also other forms of trans identity based on attraction to being something other than what you’re born as.
There are two known types of transgenderism. One is associated with homosexuality and the other with a sexual attraction to being the other sex. Some trans people see these transgender categories as existential threats, or even suppress knowledge of them. But this cover-up actually harms trans people—it damages their ability to properly interpret their experiences and give truly informed consent for hormones or surgeries. In Attracted to Being the Other Sex , Phil Illy curates evidence from more than a century of sexual research to present a superior model of transgenderism. This intensely researched book will help autoheterosexuals understand themselves and bring greater self-awareness and agency to the decision-making process around gender transition. Gain a better understanding of not only this most common form of trans identity, but also other forms of trans identity based on attraction to being something other than what you’re born as.
- GenresNonfiction
700 pages, Paperback
Published June 7, 2023
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
December 11, 2025
This book may have had some good points, but the author's over reliance on Ray Blanchard clouds the validity of Illy's arguments. Most trans people would not like their identity boiled down into a sexual fetish.
March 27, 2026
Few topics in contemporary sexology provoke as much heat, or as little shared light, as the question of what causes transgender identity. Phil Illy’s Autoheterosexual: Attracted to Being the Other Sex steps directly into this contested territory with the confidence of someone who believes the answer is already known and simply suppressed. The book’s central claim is that the most common form of transgenderism is caused by autoheterosexuality, a sexual orientation in which a person’s heterosexual attraction is directed inward rather than outward, producing a longing to be the other sex rather than to be with the other sex. Illy frames this orientation as “straight, turned inside out” (p. 3) and devotes more than 600 pages to making the case that recognizing it is a matter of both scientific accuracy and humane self-knowledge.
Illy identifies himself as autoheterosexual and writes from that vantage point with disarming openness. He holds degrees in physics and mechanical engineering but is not a credentialed sexologist or psychologist. His background in the physical sciences shows in the systematic, almost taxonomic structure of the book, where concepts are defined precisely, named carefully, and organized into classification schemes. The foreword, written by Andrew Conru (founder of AdultFriendFinder.com), sets the tone: this is a book by, for, and about autoheterosexual people, intended to destigmatize their experience and arm them with conceptual tools for self-knowledge.
Theoretical Foundation and Structure
The intellectual backbone of Autoheterosexual is Ray Blanchard’s two-type typology of male-to-female transgenderism, developed through a series of studies at the Clarke Institute of Psychiatry in Toronto during the 1980s and 1990s. Blanchard (1989) proposed that all cases of male gender dysphoria could be sorted into two groups: one associated with homosexuality and one associated with autogynephilia, defined as a male’s propensity to be sexually aroused by the thought of himself as a woman. Illy accepts this framework wholesale and extends it in two directions. First, he applies the concept to females through the parallel term autoandrophilia (“love of self as a man”), giving female autoheterosexuality a treatment that has been largely absent from the literature. Second, he places both under the umbrella term “autoheterosexuality” and argues that they represent the same basic orientation manifesting in different sexes.
The book is organized into nine parts. Part 1 lays out the conceptual framework. Parts 2 and 3 treat autogynephilia and autoandrophilia respectively, breaking each into five embodiment subtypes: anatomic, sartorial, behavioral, physiologic, and interpersonal. Part 4 addresses adjacent phenomena, including attraction to androgyny and the intersection of autism with gender variance. Part 5 covers demographics and the history of the two-type model. Part 6 traces the developmental arc from initial cross-gender arousal through euphoria and dysphoria to possible transition. Part 7 extends autosexual logic beyond gender into areas like transabled identity, transage, furries, therians, otherkin, and transracialism. Part 8 addresses cultural and policy questions, including youth gender transition and the suppression of information about autoheterosexuality. Part 9 offers closing reflections and a call for self-acceptance.
Illy provides a useful historical review of how scientists arrived at the two-type model, tracing the lineage from medieval Islamic legal scholars who distinguished between two types of effeminate males (mukhannathun) through Magnus Hirschfeld’s early-twentieth-century taxonomy to Harry Benjamin’s sex orientation scale and, finally, to Blanchard’s formalization. This historical sweep is one of the book’s genuine contributions. It grounds Blanchard’s work in a longer intellectual tradition and demonstrates that the observation of two distinct developmental pathways in gender-variant males is not an artifact of one researcher’s career but a pattern noticed repeatedly across centuries and cultures.
Strengths: Accessibility, Candor, and Scope
The most obvious strength of Autoheterosexual is its accessibility. Illy writes in a conversational, direct style that translates dense sexological concepts into language a general reader can follow. The book avoids the clinical detachment that characterizes much of the source literature, and Illy’s willingness to draw from his own experience gives the text an emotional honesty that the academic papers cannot provide. When he describes the “powerful surge of feminine euphoria” he felt at a Lady Gaga concert (p. 14) or his realization that his obsessive dedication to hula-hooping was connected to the art form’s feminine associations (pp. 14–15), the reader gets a window into the subjective texture of autogynephilia that no survey instrument could capture.
The parallel treatment of autoandrophilia is another asset. As noted in one endorsement of the book, the popular-level literature on this topic has been overwhelmingly focused on males (Zack Davis, 2023). Female autoheterosexuality has been either ignored or treated as a footnote, and Illy’s decision to give it symmetrical coverage fills a real gap. His descriptions of autoandrophilic mental shifts, embodiment subtypes, and developmental trajectories mirror the structure of the autogynephilia sections, allowing readers to see the claimed parallel between the two orientations.
The sheer density of citations is also worth noting. Sixty-five pages of endnotes anchor the text to published research, case studies, and historical sources. Even readers who are already familiar with Blanchard’s work will find the reference apparatus useful as a curated bibliography of the field.
Weaknesses: Theoretical Narrowness and Methodological Gaps
The book’s commitment to the Blanchardian framework is simultaneously its sharpest strength and its most visible weakness. Illy treats the two-type model not as a contested scientific hypothesis but as settled truth that is being suppressed for political reasons. He writes, “The real question is whether there are more than these two main types, not whether multiple distinct types exist in the first place” (p. 13). This framing forecloses the possibility that the model itself might be flawed in its underlying assumptions.
Peer-reviewed critiques of Blanchard’s typology are not trivial. Moser (2010) pointed out that Blanchard’s foundational studies lack clear operational definitions, that the theory conflates two typically independent constructs (sexual orientation and gender identity), and that cisgender women endorse items on autogynephilia scales at rates that undermine the claim that these responses are specific to gender-dysphoric males. Nuttbrock et al. (2011) attempted to replicate Blanchard’s findings in a larger, community-based sample of 571 transgender women and found that age and ethnicity, not just sexual orientation, were statistically meaningful predictors of transvestic fetishism. They also found linear rather than curvilinear associations between gynephilia and cross-gender arousal, contradicting a prediction of Blanchard’s etiological model. Serano (2020) offered an alternative “embodiment fantasies” framework that, she argued, accounts for the available evidence more parsimoniously than autogynephilia theory while avoiding its pathologizing assumptions.
Illy is clearly aware that these critiques exist; he characterizes them as politically motivated attempts to suppress inconvenient science. That framing may be partially accurate in some cases, but it does not constitute a point-by-point rebuttal. A book that positions itself as a corrective to epistemic injustice should hold itself to a higher standard of engagement with the strongest counterarguments. Dismissing all dissent as activist interference risks creating the very epistemic closure the book claims to be fighting against.
The extension of autosexual logic to phenomena like transracialism, transabled identity, and theriantropy (Parts 7) is provocative and, at times, interesting on its own terms. Rachel Dolezal’s case receives extended treatment, and the chapter on furries offers demographic detail that general readers are unlikely to find elsewhere. The analytical move of grouping these disparate phenomena under a single autosexual umbrella is intellectually bold. It is also deeply speculative. These categories lack the decades of empirical research that underpin even the contested claims about autogynephilia, and presenting them in the same systematic register as the better-supported material gives the impression of equivalent evidential standing where none exists.
A related concern is the book’s treatment of consent and clinical care. Illy argues that the suppression of knowledge about autoheterosexuality means that many transgender people have transitioned without truly informed consent. This is a serious claim with real implications for medical ethics and patient autonomy. It deserves to be supported with systematic data on patient outcomes, regret rates, and comparative analyses of informed-consent versus gatekeeping models of care. Illy offers anecdotal evidence and argumentation but not the kind of systematic analysis such a claim requires.
Tone and Audience
Illy maintains a respectful and humane tone throughout, which is no small achievement given the subject’s volatility. He repeatedly urges autoheterosexual readers not to panic or make impulsive decisions. He affirms the legitimacy of their experiences and declines to prescribe a single path forward. The chapter on youth gender transition, while clearly skeptical of puberty blocker monotherapy, engages with the clinical literature rather than relying on polemics alone. The closing chapter’s advice to “cultivate an unapologetic disposition” and “channel the cross-gender drive into embodying virtues associated with the other sex” (p. 564) reads as a sincere attempt to offer a positive framework for living with autoheterosexuality outside the binary of full repression or medical transition.
The inclusion of a practical beauty and fitness appendix (“Eat, Flex, Sleep”) is an unusual choice for a book of this kind, but it reflects Illy’s audience-centered approach: many autoheterosexual readers measure their attractiveness by the standards of the other sex, and Illy wants to give them actionable guidance on matters within their control.
The book’s limitations are most likely to frustrate two groups: academic sexologists who expect rigorous engagement with the full range of published evidence, and transgender readers who do not recognize their experiences in the autoheterosexual model. Illy addresses the second group directly, arguing that their resistance is emotionally understandable but empirically misguided. That argument may land with some readers, but it amounts to telling people who disagree with his framework that they lack self-awareness, which is a difficult rhetorical position to defend.
Conclusion
Autoheterosexual is the first popular-level book to attempt a comprehensive treatment of autogynephilia and autoandrophilia together, and for that alone it fills a gap in the literature. Illy’s accessible style, personal honesty, and encyclopedic ambition make it a readable entry point into a corner of sexology that most people have never encountered. As a work of advocacy for a destigmatized view of autoheterosexuality, it succeeds. As a balanced evaluation of the current state of the science, it falls short. The two-type model is a real hypothesis with real empirical support, but it is also a hypothesis with real empirical challenges, and Autoheterosexual does not give those challenges the sustained, good-faith attention they deserve.
The book is best suited for autoheterosexual readers seeking language and a conceptual framework for experiences they have struggled to articulate, and for general audiences who want a readable introduction to the debate. Clinicians and researchers should treat it as a well-organized reference to one side of an active scientific controversy, not as a dispassionate review of the field. Anyone who reads it should also read the published critiques by Moser (2010), Nuttbrock et al. (2011), and Serano (2020) to get the other half of the picture.
Illy identifies himself as autoheterosexual and writes from that vantage point with disarming openness. He holds degrees in physics and mechanical engineering but is not a credentialed sexologist or psychologist. His background in the physical sciences shows in the systematic, almost taxonomic structure of the book, where concepts are defined precisely, named carefully, and organized into classification schemes. The foreword, written by Andrew Conru (founder of AdultFriendFinder.com), sets the tone: this is a book by, for, and about autoheterosexual people, intended to destigmatize their experience and arm them with conceptual tools for self-knowledge.
Theoretical Foundation and Structure
The intellectual backbone of Autoheterosexual is Ray Blanchard’s two-type typology of male-to-female transgenderism, developed through a series of studies at the Clarke Institute of Psychiatry in Toronto during the 1980s and 1990s. Blanchard (1989) proposed that all cases of male gender dysphoria could be sorted into two groups: one associated with homosexuality and one associated with autogynephilia, defined as a male’s propensity to be sexually aroused by the thought of himself as a woman. Illy accepts this framework wholesale and extends it in two directions. First, he applies the concept to females through the parallel term autoandrophilia (“love of self as a man”), giving female autoheterosexuality a treatment that has been largely absent from the literature. Second, he places both under the umbrella term “autoheterosexuality” and argues that they represent the same basic orientation manifesting in different sexes.
The book is organized into nine parts. Part 1 lays out the conceptual framework. Parts 2 and 3 treat autogynephilia and autoandrophilia respectively, breaking each into five embodiment subtypes: anatomic, sartorial, behavioral, physiologic, and interpersonal. Part 4 addresses adjacent phenomena, including attraction to androgyny and the intersection of autism with gender variance. Part 5 covers demographics and the history of the two-type model. Part 6 traces the developmental arc from initial cross-gender arousal through euphoria and dysphoria to possible transition. Part 7 extends autosexual logic beyond gender into areas like transabled identity, transage, furries, therians, otherkin, and transracialism. Part 8 addresses cultural and policy questions, including youth gender transition and the suppression of information about autoheterosexuality. Part 9 offers closing reflections and a call for self-acceptance.
Illy provides a useful historical review of how scientists arrived at the two-type model, tracing the lineage from medieval Islamic legal scholars who distinguished between two types of effeminate males (mukhannathun) through Magnus Hirschfeld’s early-twentieth-century taxonomy to Harry Benjamin’s sex orientation scale and, finally, to Blanchard’s formalization. This historical sweep is one of the book’s genuine contributions. It grounds Blanchard’s work in a longer intellectual tradition and demonstrates that the observation of two distinct developmental pathways in gender-variant males is not an artifact of one researcher’s career but a pattern noticed repeatedly across centuries and cultures.
Strengths: Accessibility, Candor, and Scope
The most obvious strength of Autoheterosexual is its accessibility. Illy writes in a conversational, direct style that translates dense sexological concepts into language a general reader can follow. The book avoids the clinical detachment that characterizes much of the source literature, and Illy’s willingness to draw from his own experience gives the text an emotional honesty that the academic papers cannot provide. When he describes the “powerful surge of feminine euphoria” he felt at a Lady Gaga concert (p. 14) or his realization that his obsessive dedication to hula-hooping was connected to the art form’s feminine associations (pp. 14–15), the reader gets a window into the subjective texture of autogynephilia that no survey instrument could capture.
The parallel treatment of autoandrophilia is another asset. As noted in one endorsement of the book, the popular-level literature on this topic has been overwhelmingly focused on males (Zack Davis, 2023). Female autoheterosexuality has been either ignored or treated as a footnote, and Illy’s decision to give it symmetrical coverage fills a real gap. His descriptions of autoandrophilic mental shifts, embodiment subtypes, and developmental trajectories mirror the structure of the autogynephilia sections, allowing readers to see the claimed parallel between the two orientations.
The sheer density of citations is also worth noting. Sixty-five pages of endnotes anchor the text to published research, case studies, and historical sources. Even readers who are already familiar with Blanchard’s work will find the reference apparatus useful as a curated bibliography of the field.
Weaknesses: Theoretical Narrowness and Methodological Gaps
The book’s commitment to the Blanchardian framework is simultaneously its sharpest strength and its most visible weakness. Illy treats the two-type model not as a contested scientific hypothesis but as settled truth that is being suppressed for political reasons. He writes, “The real question is whether there are more than these two main types, not whether multiple distinct types exist in the first place” (p. 13). This framing forecloses the possibility that the model itself might be flawed in its underlying assumptions.
Peer-reviewed critiques of Blanchard’s typology are not trivial. Moser (2010) pointed out that Blanchard’s foundational studies lack clear operational definitions, that the theory conflates two typically independent constructs (sexual orientation and gender identity), and that cisgender women endorse items on autogynephilia scales at rates that undermine the claim that these responses are specific to gender-dysphoric males. Nuttbrock et al. (2011) attempted to replicate Blanchard’s findings in a larger, community-based sample of 571 transgender women and found that age and ethnicity, not just sexual orientation, were statistically meaningful predictors of transvestic fetishism. They also found linear rather than curvilinear associations between gynephilia and cross-gender arousal, contradicting a prediction of Blanchard’s etiological model. Serano (2020) offered an alternative “embodiment fantasies” framework that, she argued, accounts for the available evidence more parsimoniously than autogynephilia theory while avoiding its pathologizing assumptions.
Illy is clearly aware that these critiques exist; he characterizes them as politically motivated attempts to suppress inconvenient science. That framing may be partially accurate in some cases, but it does not constitute a point-by-point rebuttal. A book that positions itself as a corrective to epistemic injustice should hold itself to a higher standard of engagement with the strongest counterarguments. Dismissing all dissent as activist interference risks creating the very epistemic closure the book claims to be fighting against.
The extension of autosexual logic to phenomena like transracialism, transabled identity, and theriantropy (Parts 7) is provocative and, at times, interesting on its own terms. Rachel Dolezal’s case receives extended treatment, and the chapter on furries offers demographic detail that general readers are unlikely to find elsewhere. The analytical move of grouping these disparate phenomena under a single autosexual umbrella is intellectually bold. It is also deeply speculative. These categories lack the decades of empirical research that underpin even the contested claims about autogynephilia, and presenting them in the same systematic register as the better-supported material gives the impression of equivalent evidential standing where none exists.
A related concern is the book’s treatment of consent and clinical care. Illy argues that the suppression of knowledge about autoheterosexuality means that many transgender people have transitioned without truly informed consent. This is a serious claim with real implications for medical ethics and patient autonomy. It deserves to be supported with systematic data on patient outcomes, regret rates, and comparative analyses of informed-consent versus gatekeeping models of care. Illy offers anecdotal evidence and argumentation but not the kind of systematic analysis such a claim requires.
Tone and Audience
Illy maintains a respectful and humane tone throughout, which is no small achievement given the subject’s volatility. He repeatedly urges autoheterosexual readers not to panic or make impulsive decisions. He affirms the legitimacy of their experiences and declines to prescribe a single path forward. The chapter on youth gender transition, while clearly skeptical of puberty blocker monotherapy, engages with the clinical literature rather than relying on polemics alone. The closing chapter’s advice to “cultivate an unapologetic disposition” and “channel the cross-gender drive into embodying virtues associated with the other sex” (p. 564) reads as a sincere attempt to offer a positive framework for living with autoheterosexuality outside the binary of full repression or medical transition.
The inclusion of a practical beauty and fitness appendix (“Eat, Flex, Sleep”) is an unusual choice for a book of this kind, but it reflects Illy’s audience-centered approach: many autoheterosexual readers measure their attractiveness by the standards of the other sex, and Illy wants to give them actionable guidance on matters within their control.
The book’s limitations are most likely to frustrate two groups: academic sexologists who expect rigorous engagement with the full range of published evidence, and transgender readers who do not recognize their experiences in the autoheterosexual model. Illy addresses the second group directly, arguing that their resistance is emotionally understandable but empirically misguided. That argument may land with some readers, but it amounts to telling people who disagree with his framework that they lack self-awareness, which is a difficult rhetorical position to defend.
Conclusion
Autoheterosexual is the first popular-level book to attempt a comprehensive treatment of autogynephilia and autoandrophilia together, and for that alone it fills a gap in the literature. Illy’s accessible style, personal honesty, and encyclopedic ambition make it a readable entry point into a corner of sexology that most people have never encountered. As a work of advocacy for a destigmatized view of autoheterosexuality, it succeeds. As a balanced evaluation of the current state of the science, it falls short. The two-type model is a real hypothesis with real empirical support, but it is also a hypothesis with real empirical challenges, and Autoheterosexual does not give those challenges the sustained, good-faith attention they deserve.
The book is best suited for autoheterosexual readers seeking language and a conceptual framework for experiences they have struggled to articulate, and for general audiences who want a readable introduction to the debate. Clinicians and researchers should treat it as a well-organized reference to one side of an active scientific controversy, not as a dispassionate review of the field. Anyone who reads it should also read the published critiques by Moser (2010), Nuttbrock et al. (2011), and Serano (2020) to get the other half of the picture.
December 22, 2023
A well researched and fantastic read. I have a friend who had displayed symptoms mentioned in this book over the years, and one day said they wanted to transition. I was surprised when he said it was for gender ideology and not the clear sexual draw he had to this over the years. I read many papers and books both for and against gender ideology in hopes of coming to a scientific understanding.
Autoheterosexual combines what I consider the strongest scientific research on the subject, and comes to conclusions that are quite obvious when one personally knows a person with this aspect. I greatly appreciate Phil's lack of demonization and a path forward to acceptance. I value my friend greatly and feel they should celebrate their sexuality to the fullest without medicalizing themselves. I've given him the book. Hopefully it will give him the knowledge he needs to make an informed choice.
Autoheterosexual combines what I consider the strongest scientific research on the subject, and comes to conclusions that are quite obvious when one personally knows a person with this aspect. I greatly appreciate Phil's lack of demonization and a path forward to acceptance. I value my friend greatly and feel they should celebrate their sexuality to the fullest without medicalizing themselves. I've given him the book. Hopefully it will give him the knowledge he needs to make an informed choice.
February 22, 2025
This verbose and moronic tome is the nonsensical ravings of a fool. Parts are clearly plagiarized, and it is abundantly clear that the author doesn't understand what the term "research means." Poorly written, lacking any literary skill, and filled with paranoid nonsense from a man with a tenuous grasp on reality. This book is worthless filth from a transphobic white man who feels the need to take up space blubbering on about a topic of which he has no grasp. Utterly pathetic and a waste of time.
August 6, 2023
The book is an impressive work on the subject of "autoheterosexuality", in particular the concept of autogynephilia, the term popularised in the 1980s by Prof. Blanchard to describe one cause behind why a male might want to become female.
I don't support trans activists, nor believe in a "gender identity". However, I also disagree with those on the anti-"gender identity" side who seem to believe that "trans" is caused by moral deficiency and/or the result of a male conspiracy to oppress women.
It seems to me, that around the subject of "autoheterosexuality" and autogynephilia, there exists an "is" - "ought" problem: it is arguable that many presume that an accurate description of autogynephilia as akin to a sexual orientation, means that it ought to accrue the same rights and societal acceptance of homosexuality or heterosexuality.
I don't see that this necessarily follows.
I think is is possible to describe "autoheterosexuality" accurately, as is done in the book, whilst not entirely knowing what we ought to do with it. Although I am guessing, that one thing that we might not want to do with it, is to launch "autoheterosexuals" into the world with the belief that they have the "gender identity" of the opposite sex, and force the rest of society to comply with this belief.
It is also arguable that in a world where most believe in "gender identity", an accurate and believable description of autogynephilia is more necessary than ever, rather than what currently exists, which is largely caricatures that are not credible to the public.
I don't support trans activists, nor believe in a "gender identity". However, I also disagree with those on the anti-"gender identity" side who seem to believe that "trans" is caused by moral deficiency and/or the result of a male conspiracy to oppress women.
It seems to me, that around the subject of "autoheterosexuality" and autogynephilia, there exists an "is" - "ought" problem: it is arguable that many presume that an accurate description of autogynephilia as akin to a sexual orientation, means that it ought to accrue the same rights and societal acceptance of homosexuality or heterosexuality.
I don't see that this necessarily follows.
I think is is possible to describe "autoheterosexuality" accurately, as is done in the book, whilst not entirely knowing what we ought to do with it. Although I am guessing, that one thing that we might not want to do with it, is to launch "autoheterosexuals" into the world with the belief that they have the "gender identity" of the opposite sex, and force the rest of society to comply with this belief.
It is also arguable that in a world where most believe in "gender identity", an accurate and believable description of autogynephilia is more necessary than ever, rather than what currently exists, which is largely caricatures that are not credible to the public.
April 10, 2024
I am a Christian man who experiences autoheterosexuality, specifically autogynephilia. Despite very strong disagreement with the author in terms of the morality or harm caused by crossdressing and autogynephilia, I still rated this book highly because I found it a very helpful read. To understand why I appreciated the book, see my full review here - https://healingfromcrossdressing.org/...
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September 7, 2023Very good introduction to the concept of autogynephilia (and autoandrophilia). As an autogynephilic trans woman, this helped me greatly. It is also refreshingly non judgemental and non moralizing.
Its a very good read aswell, real pageturner.
Its a very good read aswell, real pageturner.
August 17, 2023
Well, I finally understand myself, not sure I like what I see, but at least I can finally see it for what it is.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews