Detrans when transition.., p.13
DETRANS: When transition is not the solution, page 13
I was also only cast in male roles - as Jacob in Joseph and his Technicolour Dream Coat, and as Marbini the Magician in Bugsy Malone. I remember playing the role of waitress and feeling hideously awkward in a little black skirt and frilly apron, as though I was a lumbering boy in drag (or how I imagine a boy might feel). And this is how I have felt my whole life, in fact I often feel like the 1950s style dresses I sometimes wear these days are a fancy-dress costume rather than comfortable everyday clothes. In fact, I feel I possibly went down that route simply BECAUSE I’m embracing the ridiculous ‘feminine stereotype’ by dressing as ‘over-the-top woman with full makeup, dress and flaring petticoat’ when in contrast I also dress androgynously (jeans, T-shirt etc.) I know very few people my age who embody these two extremes in expression. I have barely worn a bra my entire life, or lacy/frilly knickers and the sensation of nylon tights are akin to torture! It isn’t helpful that my main recollection of dressing like this was either Bar Mitzvahs or funerals, and I do recall being sent to my room to change many times when what I wanted to wear was seen as ‘inappropriate’, possibly not feminine enough or too revealing (shaming me for a slightly see-through top). I absolutely realise clothing shouldn’t mean ‘gender’ and would love to bring back some of the 70s and 80s vibe where men more makeup, sequins and women had shaved heads ordinarily without needing a new label.
It was only during sixth form, free from the shackles of a horrid navy school skirt and smart scratchy blouse, that I could start dressing as I wished, mostly in a T-shirt and denim dungarees - even if it meant I was still ostracised. I later came to call my group of friends ‘the outcasts’ as we didn’t belong in any of the typical girl groups. Some people in my group seemed to have psychological or mental health issues (I had severe anxiety at the time), but they were my friends.
Being an adolescent can be challenging without being a gender dysphoric girl in a single sex environment. Just as I was finally learning to accept myself and discover my sexuality at art college, I had another huge challenge to overcome for my gender/body-sex dysphoria. I was diagnosed with Lichen Sclerosus [LS], an auto-immune disease that affects the genitals - I was unhelpfully told it was unusual to be diagnosed as a teenager as it normally affects children or old women (that is not something any teenager at the cusp of her sexual awakening wants to hear!) and the diagnosis led to me to feel I was certainly not a ‘normal woman’ and on some level a ‘freak or weirdo’ and I became deeply self-conscious. And so it was, I didn’t feel comfortable in my own body, having small breasts meant I felt like I perpetually had a ‘boy’s body’ and now I didn’t even have standard female genitals. I didn’t enjoy wearing any typically feminine clothes, I adore having short hair (comments about how lovely I look with long hair make me baulk, because I’m torn by the desire to be attractive (validated externally) versus what makes me feel confident and comfortable. I was also shut down any time I tried to stand up for women or equality at home with ‘stop that feminist nonsense’ and did not have many assertive, confident women in my life (and even that was seen as a negative). Growing up I idolised gender non-conforming men such as Grayson Perry, Bowie, Frank-n-Furter and even Eddie Izzard but that has changed recently!
At art college I remember learning about penis envy and discussing this with a tutor, about how I ached to have a penis - I had the perhaps naive assumption that sex was so much simpler and more satisfying for men, and I wanted to wish away my ‘faulty’ genitalia. When I see ‘gender affirming surgery’ I do wonder if I would’ve held onto the reality that ‘I can’t really have an actual penis’ or been swept along by the false promises of doctors. I have since realised sex can be very fulfilling for females, and perhaps the issue affecting me was due to the difference in some men’s attitude and experience of sex with women, where their emphasis is often on intercourse rather than sensuality and intimacy. I do wonder how internet porn might be affecting this approach to sex, especially for men.
And what of sexuality? With its close connections with gender dysphoria? It’s interesting that Debra Soh’s book implies that more masculine girls tend to turn out to be gay. I’ve been told I’m feminine even if I don’t feel I am and feel uncomfortable saying I’m straight because I have been attracted to women, although I’ve never had a full relationship with one. I also don’t know if I’m ‘officially bisexual’ when for every ten men, I find one woman attractive. I have found very few bisexual women I can relate to in my circle (they are mostly forty-fifty-year-old mothers, settled with their male partners) Since leaving my ‘genderqueer’ label, I have not found my tribe outside the groups previously mentioned and although I do connect with some detransitioners, they tend to be far younger than me.
The next blow to exacerbate my body/sex dysphoria was becoming pregnant. Fortunately, during my first pregnancy I was full of energy and could continue with work as usual. But after years of ignoring my gynae condition with very few symptoms, the discussions around a natural labour once again threw up all my self-hate and dysphoric feelings. I was told I had to have a c-section (I’ve since discovered plenty of women with LS give birth naturally) and at one of my scans was told I had a bi-cornuate (or heart shaped) uterus, and the baby may not be able to turn to be head down in any case. And so, my ‘confirmation bias’ of being a faulty woman was further exacerbated. Sadly, from the day my son was born I had sunk into the depths of post-natal depression which I believe was a combination of hormones, sleep deprivation and perfectionism. I was determined to breastfeed (to prove I had what it takes to ‘be a woman’) but after a week we were rushed to hospital as my son wasn’t feeding enough and almost died, and so another failure to add to my lengthy list. In addition, he was never comforted by “the presence/smell of his mum” or my cuddles as I was told he would, and he spent many hours screaming and barely slept. He has since been diagnosed with autism.
Throughout my upbringing I was led to believe the highest esteem for a woman is to be an excellent mother and housewife. This might sound laughable and old-fashioned and yet it does not feel laughable when you consider how it has contributed to my dysphoria and depressive episodes. I do not feel comfortable in the role of 'stay at home mother’ (even though I do work part-time), and I am ‘good with children’, but I feel I cannot aspire to the lofty values placed on ‘ideal mother’ as someone who cooks organic food, takes their children out regularly for nature walks, doesn’t let them have too much screen-time and ALWAYS puts them first. Instead, I am fiercely ambitious and want to study and read, even though this feels intensely selfish. I am home-educating and often consider that I am currently self-sabotaging in a perverse masochistic way to enforce the ‘ideal mother’ role on myself. I still don’t know how to balance the business-minded, knowledge-hungry side of me who does not want to sort out arguments over socks. I still feel society’s attitude to ‘how a mother should be’ and how women are accommodated, should change. Women should have the freedom to be topless as much as men (one person in my art series highlighted her frustration at this issue and suggested this contributed to her desire to transition, I get her frustration!) I wish women could feel safer at night and there was a different support system for parents where it’s easier for both to balance work and family duties. While my experiences have been somewhat different to teen girls growing up now, I still feel there are many overlaps in the conflict I’ve felt internally and externally.
If only I had felt empowered to be confident about who I am regardless of ‘expectations of women’ and not criticised for speaking up and being assertive.
If only I’d been told my body is normal and everyone’s has quirks, it doesn’t mean I have a ‘failed female body’.
If only I’d been told I don’t have to sacrifice my authenticity to be a good mother.
Over the past few years, I have been romantic with a whole spectrum of beautiful people, both trans and cross-dressing men, probably because on some level I feel a connection. I still feel like an outlier.
It pains me greatly that there is still so much intolerance towards anyone ‘non-conforming’ that they have to use a new label to find acceptance and feel comfortable. People should feel free to dress and present however they wish without being mocked. When I said I was genderqueer, well-meaning people would say “But you are so feminine”, like I have passed some kind of test. I have since left that label behind because the issue is about acceptance by society, not about avoiding the label of 'woman' or about being feminine, or not. While writing this piece I’ve come to realise the over-arching theme is ‘the grass is greener’ for men (I know it isn’t always), and that if my female body has failed me and I’ve been unsuccessful at fitting in with other women, I must be something ‘other’ but I am not.
It's time to celebrate and learn to be comfortable existing as this kind of woman.
16. A PARENT'S STORY:
SCARLET (UK)
“I don’t want you to say anything, I just want you to listen. I’m trans.”. My response was, “Thank you for telling us”. I astounded myself at my ability to respond in this way. In that moment I was fully aware that my world, my family’s world had changed. Exactly how, I could not have begun to imagine but I knew it had changed immeasurably and that I had to tread with the extreme caution.
I responded in this way due to the intense recognition that my son could’ve chosen not to tell us. I have subsequently seen the posts on Reddit whereby trans-identified adolescents speak in clandestine conversations revealing how once they turn sixteen/seventeen/eighteen they will leave home, leaving no trace behind them, taking on their new trans identity complete with hormones and surgeries and leaving their families behind. Some can’t wait to get their hands on money that has been bequeathed them at eighteen from grandparents to access medicalisation. I am very pleased I responded with gratitude for the heads up.
My son then went to bed. My husband and I were lying in bed in the dark and we continued to do so for the rest of the night wondering what this meant for us. Did my son mean he was a transvestite? I didn’t suspect so, but humans are funny and complex creatures. Did this mean he had aspirations to be a transsexual? Surely not. I felt sick to the stomach with fear because this would surely be a parent’s worst nightmare. The desire to totally deny your existence as yourself and attempt to be something that you never can be. When something so extreme occurs it feels like the carpet has not only been pulled out from under your feet but that the floor that was holding the carpet was also removed and you are falling to depths of existence hitherto unknown – the infamous pressure of the Mariana Trench entered my world. I have known grief, I have known hardship, I have lived a full and varied life, but nothing will ever match this. As I said to my GP only recently, everyone knows the date of this disturbing revelation within their families.
I say disturbing because I did not have a child who was gender non-confirming. Yes, he didn’t like stereotypical male pursuits such as football and rugby, but he thoroughly enjoyed other sports and he was in no way interested in his sister’s stereotypically female toys such as dolls even though he had open access to the toy cupboard. My children were very close when they were growing up, favourite activities included playing post office with a brilliant activity set we bought, making stickers with foil tops, great fun (and a nightmare to clean up!). My family were harmonious and happy without any major incidents until this announcement. We were not a gender stereotyping family – my son tried all sorts of activities including ballet (not because he asked to but because I offered - a wonderful activity for discipline, balance, flexibility, posture etc. and aged four or five, he was happy to give anything a go) but he settled on swimming particularly loving lifeguarding classes, cycling and he loved Lego most of all.
My son started to become anxious before COVID. His tutor at his school, a man responsible for my son’s pastoral care throughout his time at school (year 9 to end of A-Levels), did not deal particularly well with this. I did not want to make a fuss, fully aware that teachers’ time is often thinly spread but I wish now that I had made more of it. He confided in a sports teacher who he knew had experienced anxiety herself and she encouraged him to tell us that he’d had panic attacks at night. She was a fantastic influence on him – indeed I wrote to the Headmaster to commend her influence on him yet once he added the trans cloak to his wardrobe even she toed the line.
I do not wish to rebuke responsibility, but children spend more time at school than home. My son seemed fine at home apart from the handful of occasions when he couldn’t get out of bed. Once he was up, he was fine and when he returned from school he appeared fine too. We tried to ascertain what was causing this, but he remained mute, would pull his duvet over his head, and refused to move or speak. Not wanting to get out of bed is common but how do you encourage your child to speak? Was this symptomatic of something bigger that we were missing? We clearly did not have the whole picture. This was pre-lockdown and COVID.
We’ve since apologised for our handling of our relationship when he was anxious, but that anxiety has now manifested itself into a different form and we are sitting up and paying attention make no mistake. When the trans issue reared its head, I looked back over earlier emails to school about my son’s anxiety. Indeed I found that I had sent in many emails mentioning his anxiety. When my son had left school, my husband and I went in to see the Headmaster to discuss our experience as we were not happy. After this meeting the tutor called me to apologise for his insufficient support for my son’s anxiety. Too little too late. They played computer games often in ‘form time’ so time wasn’t that pressed, I could argue now. I was dignified and told the tutor that no-one is perfect; however, he still chose to act as the social justice warrior when the ‘trans’ issue was raised again. He said that his seventeen-year-old niece would not agree with me. Whilst I called my son his male born name, this teacher still responded, very disrespectfully to my mind, with my son’s chosen female name. This is symptomatic of the total withdrawal of parental authority. He called to apologise for the lack of adequate support I felt my son had been given for anxiety. I accepted this but when so called ‘trans’ was mentioned I was firmly put in my place. I aborted the phone call and thanked him for calling me.
The tutor’s seventeen-year-old niece who believes in ‘trans’ has never met my son so quite frankly, her opinion is irrelevant and totally redundant. The ‘trans’ umbrella is so broad now it means nothing, but that is the point. Orwell was right, the corruption of language to gain control - but I won’t dwell here. Ultimately, I know this is a manifestation of anxiety and yet no-one, not the GPs, CAMHS, the family therapists or the school listened to me. My parental insight, my authority was removed. My opinion did not matter – not once were my husband and I asked what we thought; they all just cheered my son on in his delusion. We had no chance, and so the sleepless nights and the slow unravelling of my family’s normality began.
It is hard thinking back to twenty-one months ago. So much has happened. I have made notes, and there were times when I kept a diary, but ultimately it was a deeply traumatic time for us all and so there is no comfort in reliving it. A critical aspect of this sorry saga is that my son chose to tell the school about his trans persona before he told us. This meant that we were held to ransom by the school. Our view was not separately sought. This is of paramount importance. More recently, I did my own research, ringing around a selection of independent schools to ask whether they had experience of pupils who identify as trans, pretending I was considering their schools for my imaginary child. They all did except one who would not discuss but suggested I email the Deputy Head who was also responsible for pastoral support. This was a school to which we almost sent our son and I wonder now whether it would have been any different had we sent him there. I know now there are other boys who identity as trans at my son’s school but have not told the school. No matter that the Headmaster wrote to me to say that my son was the only one. I am bound by confidentiality but mothers talk. Social contagion is the name of the game.
We had one conversation with school where it was abundantly clear that our thoughts were irrelevant. My son was seventeen, he was in control of his own destiny, we were to fall in line. That we were fee payers didn’t come into it. It was child-led, and the school were going to support him. They recommended Mermaids to him and to us. I felt on high alert – I had read one article about Mermaids and knew they were unscrupulous, however, I didn’t know anything else about this ‘trans world’. I had a very brief conversation with my son where I told him that I had read that Mermaids were not reputable and I would avoid them if I were him; I believe he listened to me and didn’t contact them although I couldn’t be sure. The school unbeknownst to me until much later had agreed to send staff for training at Gendered Intelligence.
The person my son confided in was the Head of Sixth Form. During that first conversation she assured us that, “Everything will be alright”. It most definitely isn’t twenty-one months later. She also told us that she had previous experience of dealing with trans-identifying pupils. Herein was a major issue for us. We knew any objections we made were going to be perceived as ‘transphobic’. I tried to highlight our liberal credentials, how I used to go with gay friends to Madam Jo-Jo’s in Soho, which I loved, as a student as did this teacher.
