Once my son was referred to CAMHS by the GP (and we were excluded due to my son being seventeen years old), I asked the GP (a separate GP who is significantly more understanding) what support the rest of us could have and she referred us to family therapy. Apart from my son we all attended at various times. My husband attended for me, he did not feel it was helpful to him, but he could see how I was losing my marbles and wanted to support me. Family therapy was very substandard and was useless in making any headway for us. We spent much time saying how we weren’t ‘transphobic’, a word bandied about which means nothing - another clever manipulation of language unless you are talking about victimising people after gender reassignment therapy which clearly, we were not.

  Incidentally, how one can tell who has had ‘gender reassignment surgery’ in everyday life is quite the discussion. Will we need to do knicker inspections? What about detransitioners? They are treated so badly in this online gender world but these are the people government should be listening to if they are ever to understand how we got here. These are the people the NHS has failed and I hope every one of them has a successful lawsuit. How does one compensate for what they have lost? It is as profound an imagining as I can contemplate.

  My daughter attended one session and could not believe how wrongly these professionals were assessing the situation. I was accused of possibly, “Taking up all the space in the family”. My daughter laughed - she couldn’t believe they were saying this; they interpreted her laughter to mean, “Yes, that’s my mum”. I didn’t feel it was helpful for my daughter to see her mother being subjected to such uninformed and offensive nonsense so I aborted the sessions. I asked my son if he felt their assessment was correct. He frowned as I told him and said, “That’s not what I would say”.

  My husband observed recently that they couldn’t have professed this more inaccurately, my son now takes up all the room in the family, or most of it. We fight for what little freedom we can get but it is never far below the surface. More evidence of being let down by so-called professionals – school, GP, CAMHS (also affirming but I was given very little information due to his age) and now Family Therapy.

  Sadly, it does not stop there. A friend who I have known over twenty-five years who was one of my closest friends also unquestioningly affirmed my son. I was due to go away for an evening with her when this all unfolded. I did not cancel; we had paid for a hotel, but I was not sure whether I was going to tell her. We chatted over dinner. I decided to tell my friend, but I was unsure whether this was wise as I was still very much in shock. I now wish I had not done so, and I have subsequently told her this in a letter and again latterly in a conversation. We are still friends, but our closeness has significantly changed. During our dinner on that evening, I received a phone call from my daughter who was distraught – so distraught that my friend could hear her crying hysterically and thought she had been raped. We aborted the trip and got the train straight back to London. My daughter was stood in the street making this call, desperately not wanting go home. I cannot explain the trauma to my daughter. She has told no-one. She is deeply ashamed of what she has described as “Mental weakness”. Her sleep has been totally disturbed for 21 months. She used to sleep like a baby, I did too; our sleeping ability was indeed legendary but no more. I can cope, I am middle-aged, but to corrupt my daughter at such a tender age – she was fourteen when this happened - is something I will never forget. She understands the role of schools in this – her school has Stonewall posters plastered all over the walls and regular opportunities for “all things queer”. She comes home and tells me, and I curse the activist teachers. She has learnt to cope and says, “You’re not going to believe this mum” and some other tale of celebrating diversity comes out which after hundreds of hours of research I see clearly through and squarely for what it is – an attack on family and stability which is deeply homophobic despite professing otherwise.

  My affirming friend and I used to meet most weeks. She had been an amazing support when I first met her not long after my mum died when I was twenty-nine. Her parents died recently, and such was my support that she mentioned me at her mum’s funeral. Her parents were wonderful, and I know that they would not buy this. However, as I started to tell my friend about my son, she told me about a girl at her daughter’s London independent school who had clearly socially transitioned a child. This girl’s parents had asked that at prize giving the school honour her birth name and not her chosen name. My friend said to me, “You wouldn’t do that would you?” Like a fool I said no. What she should have done was ask what I thought? She does not know my child despite being a close friend. That would’ve been the correct response.

  I clearly knew the school was calling the shots. I attended my son’s final prize giving and he went up on stage to collect a prize as the school called out his fake name and my husband and I sat holding hands. We were lucky we hardly knew anyone. I have since tried to reach out to the parents of this girl, who was at school with my friend’s daughters. My friend has changed her view. She does not know her well, but they have mutual friends. I have written this mother a letter and another mum I know from my support group (which I will come onto) who went to the same school and had written her a card – we both have a sense of her pain and would like to offer her our thoughts of solidarity or compassion, of understanding. When my friend asked these mothers, who are close friends, if they would pass on the card/letter, they refused. They were worried “After all she’s been through”. The audacity of the gatekeepers - I’d even offered to keep my letter open but still it was a no. This mum’s pain has haunted me. Her ‘friends’ have no idea how their actions are selfish and unthinking.

  Now not only have the school, GP, CAMHS and family therapy all affirmed but also the only friend I have told. This friend having not seen my son since he was a toddler but knowing throughout his life that I have never mentioned ‘anything gender’ or about sexuality and they have all cast me as the misguided one.

  Thankfully my best friend from university was a completely different kettle of fish. She knew something was amiss as I was delayed seeing her and her daughter had tipped her off that something was awry. My son and her daughter were friends. When I met my friend, I wept endlessly in our arms. She visited practically every week for a year, putting her own life on hold and listened as I detailed every tiny interaction. I would talk for hours, and her compassion is something I will never forget. I could not have functioned so well without her. I do believe I am having a ‘functioning nervous breakdown’ and she understands. She has said to me, “I cannot bear what this is doing to you”. We have been friends more than thirty-five years. She has been a rock and I will be eternally grateful for the support she gave me through this awful period of my life.

  One other couple who are dear friends also know our situation. They are our one of our oldest and dearest family friends who have known my son since he was four years old. They understand what is going on and are a calming presence. They have experience of social contagion with one of their children, so they understand. Social contagion is such a big part of this which those of us who are in it understand but those outside blithely ignore.

  My family, and that of my husband, do not know about our son’s identification. They know I have a major event going on which I do not want to talk about, and they are honourably accepting this. My husband hasn’t told anyone. He meets up with my support group occasionally. He doesn’t involve himself with the day-to-day grind which is probably a blessing as one of us needs to have their toes in normality. He has the best sense of humour and often jokes about the number of different groups with ‘sex’, ‘gender’ or ‘trans’ within their name. He will sometimes ask, when I am discussing events, if a certain group is ‘The Judean People’s Front’ or the People’s Front of Judea’ when I am filling him in on this mad world.

  One way I have found to cope is to seek to understand the opposition. I attended the Trans Pride Rally outside Parliament in January 2023 and found myself listening to Edward Lord, an unsavoury character if ever there was and Sarah Jane Baker – don’t rely on me, just look online. That these individuals and other organisations such as Stonewall, Mermaids, Gendered Intelligence etc., have managed to permeate so much of mainstream society is something that Mao or Stalin would have been impressed by yet ordinary parents like me and those who speak out against what is being done to children such as all the GIDS Tavistock whistleblowers, , Kellie-Jay Keen-Minshull (also known as Posie Parker), Kathleen Stock, Maya Forstater and Helen Joyce are considered right-wing fascists and transphobes.

  Other coping mechanisms are listening to podcasts – Gender: A Wider Lens, Benjamin Boyce’s Calmversations and Transparency (Gender Dysphoria Alliance). When I was manically walking London in the early hours, I searched ‘gender’ under podcasts, and the Gender: A Wider Lens podcast appeared. I tried to get Stella O’Malley to see my son but sadly she is in great demand and so was unavailable to see him. I discovered PITT too (Parents of Inconvenient Truths about Trans) and their communications are without fail a window for anyone to get insight into this mess. I also discovered Bayswater Parents Support Group. This group of mothers and fathers are ‘my people’. My husband says I’ve found my tribe. He is right. The story of every single member of this remarkable group would bring tears to the eyes of any sane person. The enduring heartache and horror are relentless but this group of parents are unfailingly there for each other. Our Duty is another parent group. There are so many parents struggling. Mostly on these walks I listened to music, sometimes two songs on repeat, songs that I heard whilst on holiday with my family in Ibiza shortly after the announcement. These songs remind me that I can cope whatever, so I sometimes listen to these two songs on repeat for hours at a time.

  To have one’s child torn away from them and be encouraged to self-harm causing irreversible damage and possibly early death is something no loving parent should expect from a democracy and enlightened society, but this is what is happening. Humanity can be very dark, but I do believe in the positive power of the shared experience. I know parents who have children who have desisted, and they are still working tirelessly to try and get reason into this debate. These people are my heroes. I will never desert this group no matter the outcome for my son. They are intelligent, driven, honest, vulnerable, and very witty. They are remarkable in their ability to give support to others because they know the pain of this existence.

  I have worried that some of the parents will commit suicide as I know parents who have considered this.. I worry about the effect on long-term health including my own, but it is not my child’s fault. I am running the London marathon in less than a month. I’m not a natural but I am doing it to show myself that I can choose to be a fighter, like both my parents before me. I also want to set the example to my children when I’m long dead that during this deeply disturbing and traumatic period of my life I chose to cope positively, to exercise, and not with a maladaptive coping strategy. There is also a peace that comes with knowing that if anyone tries to butcher my child, I am not sure what extremes I might go to – even at the cost of a potential gaol sentence.

  My husband is calm and measured always. We have known each other 30 years. I have never seen him cry, even when his own father died. He is a fan of Cat Stevens. He told me that he had listened to Cat Stevens, now Yusuf Islam, singing Father and Son and it made him sob. I have not dared listen to this record since, it will be too painful. The fathers in this mess deal with it differently to mothers, this is quite well known. I met a very dear friend from this mess recently whose son has desisted. I asked her whether she would ever get over this – seven years were stolen from her family. She is determined this will not blight her life and is very grateful and relieved that her son is now out of this mess. However, she regularly worries he will re-enter the cult and does not settle. She knows it’s all knife-edge in this new world of ‘gender’. I asked her what helped her when she was in the thick of it and she said her husband and her other children. Thankfully her other siblings have welcomed her son back into the fold with open arms and they are stronger than ever – that is a beautiful thing. That her husband, who loves watching Wolves play football, kept her strong is also beautiful. We know fathers who are the best fathers out there and their sons and daughters have been taken from them. I say again, and our society - irrelevant of political party - should protect its children and youth and value family.

  I have tried to create a supportive scaffolding of sorts for my daughter, for she is struggling, but the truth is she just wants to get on with her own life and be away from this, understandably. She had one GP appointment for herself, and this new GP had the audacity to asked about ‘our home situation’ before he even asked what she was there to see him about. Treating my daughter like she was part of an unfolding drama and only second to the ‘trans’ issue. Evidence again that this issue tries to trump all others. I complained about this GP afterwards and I also asked for it to be recorded on my daughter’s notes, at her request, that she should not be asked about her brother or our home life - she only wants to speak about her health. She would like this doctor struck off for unprofessionalism. He’s meant to be a doctor not a nosy neighbour.

  My GP asked me how my husband is doing – this was from a place of concern not selfish curiosity. I asked him and he replied, “Business as usual”. I asked him what this meant exactly to which he replied, “Having had a very stressful job, I learnt a long time ago not to stress about the things that I can’t control”. He of course is right. If my son chooses to acquire hormones, Helen Webberley and the sharks at GenderGP will willingly write him a prescription after a matter of minutes (as has happened to parents I know) and my GP will be expected to join the party with ‘shared care’. All the while ‘watchful waiting’ is ignored and talking therapies are branded as conversion therapy. My friend said to her son who advised her he’d been to GenderGP and that he had started his transition, “Yay, boobies here you come…. Cancer, heart disease, osteoporosis, here you also come”. Why Helen Webberley and these drug pushers are not struck off is beyond me.

  I have faith my son will find his way out of this and will be a reflective, morally decent human being who contributes to society. He succeeded in his A-levels, despite a challenging year which included a suicide attempt in February 2022 via paracetamol overdose. His reason, frustration at the length of waiting lists. At this moment in time everyone in his life was affirming him. We felt helpless. This was an incredibly stressful time in his life, it was during COVID, he was from the cohort unable to sit his GCSEs as a result, the effects and mental health carnage created by COVID for our youth are well documented, and he was due to take his mock A-Levels.

  I know some will judge me for initially affirming my son but after a suicide attempt and with A-levels looming options were limited. I am a good example to people that if you show tolerance for ‘difference’ – as I have and continue to do – this does not mean all will be OK. It was frightening - I could cope, of sorts, with this forced name change because it meant he was including me in this new (unknown to me) world he’d entered. I tried mentally to treat it as a nickname but, and this is critical, only a name was acceptable. Had he been younger, a name change would’ve been a flat refusal. We were led to believe we had no choice in this trajectory as he was seventeen years of age. We trusted this esteemed, prestigious school; we were fools.

  His sister did not affirm him and I believe she never will. I do not, however, have a crystal ball. This is her choice. His decision has impacted on her, she will make her own choices as her life progresses and she enters adulthood.

  The day after my son finished school and his A-levels, we U-turned and explained why to him. We did not believe his narrative. We all mattered equally in our family and this was badly affecting and damaging our daughter and us.

  Once we back pedalled – and we could do because school could no longer interfere. However, we had now crossed the border into the land of the wretched transphobes.

  A year at university amongst social justice warriors and the world of critical race theory has continued to cement his view. How are we going to get out of this?

  I have to hold that hope and if he would just hold off any medical intervention until post twenty-five, there is more of a chance.

  --

  Addendum – September 2023. Five months after writing the above chapter.

  This is going be hard to write because focus isn’t exactly known to be exacting under duress but needs must.

  My son has been prescribed cross-sex hormones from TransPlus – “the first integrated Gender, Sexual Health and HIV service commissioned by NHS England.”

  My son, until he started taking this NHS prescribed drugs, was a physically healthy young man.

  This clinic is soon to be in shiny new bigger offices further along Dean Street which they are starting to move into this coming weekend (9th-10th September 2023).

  I wonder if the public would consider this money well spent?

  At the end of the above chapter I wrote that I hoped my son would be able to get to twenty-five years of age, when his brain has matured, before doing anything irreversible to his body. That ship has now sailed. He is only nineteen years old.

  This is how the summer holiday ended for us in 2023.

  We all had enjoyed a great summer break until recently. My daughter and I had a trip together, my husband and my son had a trip together and we all spent time together thereafter. It was great - if you ignored the elephant in the room. Not an easy task. We relaxed and spent time together, we shared good food together, we had fun and laughed together. Some of us cried alone.

  My son has now been prescribed these potentially lifelong, damaging drugs by the NHS for a mental health condition approximately two years and a handful of days after his announcement to us. How can this be ethical? This is medical negligence.

 

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