Why I Buy Binders For Trans Boys

A commitment to holding a lifeline

Jonathon Reed
Breaking the Boy Code
4 min readMar 31, 2020

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Protect Trans Kids by Hingyi Khong

I leaned away from the counter as the bathroom door opened and a man stepped in. He froze at the sight of my long blonde hair. “Oh,” he said, startled. “Sorry, I thought this was the men’s…” His voice trailed off as he backed out the doorway.

I turned back to the mirror, suddenly hot. A sting of tears blurred my reflection. I stared at my hips under the fabric of my jeans. I tried to adjust my posture to make my shoulders look wider but it just felt stupid.

The man walked back in, offering me a sheepish grin. I concentrated on the paper towel in my hands, blinking rapidly as I angled my body to let him pass.

— Me, age 11

The first transgender kid I knew was a longtime friend. Our relationship began while she was identifying as a gender non-conforming boy like me. When she transitioned, I started connecting with other trans youth in order to learn how to best support her. Since then, I’ve educated myself on puberty and dysphoria and hormone replacement therapy. I’ve helped trans youth come out to their parents and I’ve intervened in crises of self-harm. It’s been eye-opening and purposeful, and it’s always been personal.

It’s personal because I’m still in touch with that kid; we go out for sushi every now and then. And while we have less in common than we used to, I still see a part of myself in her—just like I see myself in the boy at my rock climbing gym who has his nails painted, or the middle schooler I tutor who has both of his ears pierced. I used to be that kid.

I used to copy the way other boys talked. I used to pray at night to wake up in a new body. I know the stress of using public washrooms and the exhaustion of being called the wrong pronouns. I won’t ever truly know what it’s like to be trans, but I do know why protecting trans youth matters to me.

It’s personal.

Ace bandages don’t flex. Tape adhesives don’t breathe. Sports bras don’t work. So specially designed chest binders are an invaluable tool for trans boys to cope with gender dysphoria and socially transition. When I started talking with trans youth about how much getting a binder would mean to them, this is what they told me:

“Having a binder would give me a sense of freedom — I could wear what I want without suffering severe dysphoria. To be able to wear a normal t-shirt, not an oversized one or one paired with a hoodie, would be such an amazing thing.” — Ezra, age 14

“For me, a binder is a way to live a better life, without as much dysphoria. It’s a step closer to who I am inside.” — Cass, age 16

“For me, a binder is non-negotiable. I’m filled with disgust every time that I look down. Being able to feel comfortable in my body seems impossible right now. I just want the opportunity to be me and be okay with me, and this is the first step.” — Jason, age 17

“A binder to me is the ability to be who I want to be. Dysphoria sucks and finally having a flat chest seems so euphoric, like a dream. Fixing the fact that I was born in the wrong body means the world to me.” — Ryland, age 15

“To me, a binder represents everything I don’t have but might someday. Someday…it seems so far away, but maybe it will come. Doing everything I want to, like cutting my hair, changing my legal gender and name, getting a binder, getting surgery…all seemed impossible. But now since I have one ‘impossible’ thing, maybe the others aren’t so impossible after all. I’m only thirteen, after all. I have my whole life in front of me.” — Alix, age 13

Chest binders are a lifeline for trans boys. They’re also expensive and hard to get without the support of parents or caregivers. That’s why I started using the financial support of my podcast, Breaking the Boy Code, to buy binders for those who wouldn’t otherwise be able to. You can support by visiting Breaking the Boy Code on Patreon. Each binder costs about $40 USD and makes more of a difference than you or I will ever know. Knowing what I know about trans youth suicide rates, my hope is that this gets them through the hardest years.

I embarked on a similar project in 2015. As I wrote back then, queer youth need more than hashtags and social media solidarity. They need committed advocates and tangible outcomes. That’s what I’ve heard from them and that’s what I experienced as a young person myself. As a trans boy wrote in an email to me, “People like you enable younger people to start their journey.”

“I don’t think anyone you help could be more thankful.”

Breaking the Boy Code is a feminism-aligned publication on masculinity on Medium, and a podcast on the inner lives of boys on Apple Podcasts, Google Play and Spotify. Follow @boypodcast on Twitter and Facebook for podcast-related updates and masculinity-related news.

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Jonathon Reed
Breaking the Boy Code

Expert on supporting boys’ well-being and challenging gender-based violence.