Former Trans Woman Thoughts on Detransition
The concept of “Detransition” is complex and challenging to navigate, particularly as many in the transgender community perceive it as a threat to their identity. It’s an unusual and difficult position, being born one gender but feeling compelled to fight for an identity that defies one’s biology. This struggle can be intense, and when others question or undermine the validity of this identity, those who are deeply invested in it often react with strong emotions.
In my own journey, I became part of a community of transgender friends and acquaintances. For someone who is transgender, there is comfort in surrounding oneself with like-minded individuals who affirm your identity and accept your defiance of biological norms. Over six years, I developed a network of Facebook and Instagram friends and followers who identify as trans. Now, it feels uncomfortable and even distressing to face their criticism and accusations that by sharing my story, I am doing something terrible.
Fortunately, I haven’t received too much hate. However, a few individuals believe I am working against the existence of transgender people and hindering their rights to affirming medical care. The irony is, after feeling so strongly that I needed that care myself, I now find myself wishing I had been denied it. The care I received, which permanently altered my body, was based entirely on trauma, not reality. My upbringing in the Mormon church and the realization that I could be completely convinced of something only to later see it debunked adds weight to my current stance.
It feels like walking down a beautiful path into a forest, only to fall through a hidden trap door, suffer immense harm, and then find oneself at the start of the path again, trying to warn others of the unseen dangers. From their perspective, they see only the inviting path and cannot yet comprehend the hidden peril.
This epiphany also significantly impacted my relationship with my wife. She had supported me through surgery, even though she felt it wasn’t right, sacrificing our intimate connection because I believed it was necessary for my well-being. Her support has been incredible, but revealing to her that I no longer needed to live as a woman brought intense grief to both of us, especially my wife, who now had to come to terms with an irreversible loss.
It’s been a few weeks since then, and we are adjusting to the sad reality of our current situation.
Returning to familiar places and being around people who have known me as a woman for the past six years has been surreal. More people in this town know me from my time as a woman than as a man, as I had only lived here for two years before transitioning. What has helped me embrace detransitioning is the realization that if people accepted me as a man living as a woman, they would also accept me living as a man. I had to internally battle the fear that people would reject me for reverting to my original gender. While the trans community has its opinions about my decision, my connections with them were never deep, serving more as a source of comfort.
I am passionate about sharing my story, hoping it resonates with the right people and encourages those considering permanent bodily changes to reevaluate their decisions, especially if these decisions are influenced by trauma. During my Internal Family Systems training program, a fellow student asked the instructor whether gender identity is considered a “Part.” The instructor shared that Dr. Richard Schwartz sees it as a part, though she personally disagreed. This discussion stayed with me throughout my training. A subsequent intentional psychedelic mushroom experience revealed to me the roots of gender identity, showing how it forms similarly to any other identity. This clarity led me to the realization that I had seen too much to ignore, and detransitioning became the only path forward.
Maintaining support for transgender individuals is important to me, as I understand the deep-seated feeling of being in the wrong body and how infuriating it is to have this feeling dismissed. However, I also recognize that this belief is often rooted in trauma and experience, and not necessarily reflective of reality. Walking this line, trying to be supportive while sharing my truth, is not easy and often risks offending many.
I understand that my reflections on the transgender experience might seem broad, and for that, I apologize. It’s essential to acknowledge that I pursued gender confirmation surgery in 2019 with the conviction that it was the key to aligning my external reality with my internal sense of self. For four years afterward, I believed wholeheartedly in the choice I had made, convinced it had brought me happiness. It was only upon delving into my past and shifting my perspective that I recognized this step wasn’t necessary for me, leaving me with a poignant sense of regret for the irreversible changes I made.
My years of studying the human psyche have brought me profound insights into the nuanced tapestry that shapes us into who we are today. Or who we think we are. It was my own unique life experiences that led me to a sincere belief that transitioning and undergoing surgery were essential for my well-being. For a time, they were — the relief and joy I felt were undeniable.
However, my journey of self-discovery revealed that these feelings stemmed from past traumas and ingrained perspectives, which, once I addressed and healed from, altered my relationship with my own body. With this newfound understanding, I could no longer live in a way that felt incongruent with my biological reality.
I remain a staunch advocate for the rights of transgender individuals to access medical care that affirms their identity and alleviates their dysphoria, as I once did. Yet, I also hold space for the possibility that many trans individuals might find a path to healing internal strife without medical intervention, should they explore and resolve the deep-seated traumas that contribute to their gender dysphoria.
This is not to say that all trans experiences are rooted in trauma or that medical care should be withheld. Far from it. My intent is not to generalize but to share my perspective based on my personal evolution. I’ve been where you might be now, ready to defend my identity with the utmost conviction, and I would have dismissed any suggestion that my feelings were anything but inherent.
I support the need for gender-affirming medical care for those who find solace in it. Such care was vital to my survival at one point — I too faced the abyss of despair, feeling surgery was the only alternative to a pain I couldn’t bear. For many, this care continues to be a lifeline, and I advocate for its accessibility for those in this position.
My aim is to open a dialogue about the profound and sometimes unexpected shifts in understanding that can occur when we address our deepest wounds. I share my story with the hope that it might illuminate possibilities for healing and self-acceptance that preserve all aspects of one’s physical and emotional well-being. It’s a delicate message to convey, and I offer it with the deepest respect and solidarity for those on their own journeys.
