I’m A Trans Person That Helped Found a “Detransition Advocacy” Organization
These international networks will destroy trans health care as we know it.
Content note: This post and several of its links involve several sensitive topics, including but not limited to transphobia, homophobia, ableism, and childhood sexual abuse. They’ve been added as evidence of the connections between groups. Read with caution and take care of yourself as needed.
On December 1st, the landmark ruling on the British case Bell v. Tavistock sent shock waves throughout the world. After a several year long battle, the new claimant Keira Bell won her case against the only gender clinic in Britain providing care to trans youth, doing so in collaboration with GIDS whistleblowers Susan and Marcus Evans. As a result, all British minors under age 16 must receive a court order before getting puberty blockers or gender affirming hormone therapy, adding to an already arduous process that takes years to dredge through.
For trans people in the UK, especially trans youth, this is obviously bad news. The crux of the argument was that Keira Bell was young and wasn’t given adequate information, therefore being incapable of providing informed consent for gender affirming care. What’s worse, these same supporters are pushing for it to be implemented in other countries, including the United States, and there’s already calls to “moderate” information in schools and online in attempts to counteract social contagion. And, to top it all off, Stephanie Davies-Arai of Transgender Trend (and, by extension, Bell) is pushing to expand the ruling to ages 18–25, arguing that college education and culture is transing vulnerable young adults.
What people don’t know is that this isn’t a one-off case. Small, international networks of well-connected activists and health professionals are using their credentials, social and economic capital, and personal experience to harm trans and detrans people who lack access to evidence-based supports for our health outcomes and any resulting trauma when that goes awry. They take genuine concerns about medical neglect or malpractice in transgender health care and twist them into claims that we’re “too delusional to know what’s good for [us]” and therefore have to be cleared by shrinks and courts or, worse, subject us to conversion therapy during our most vulnerable points. And I’m sorry to say I had a hand in it.
See, I was one of the founding members and original Vice President of the Gender Care Consumer Advocacy Network (GCCAN), a self-proclaimed non-partisan, non-ideological collaboration between trans and detransitioned people to advocate for better health care. I was also part of the public relations team, and as the only board member that considered myself to be both trans and medically detransitioned, the one tasked with the responsibility of outreaching potential trans members and queer allies. I had the unique opportunity to witness the networking between such kinds of groups from within, as well as gaining intimate knowledge of strategy used. I resigned in protest just months later when I figured out what was going on, but mostly kept to myself since then so I could heal from the trauma of my experience.
Now that the wildfire is spreading, I’m coming forward to shed light on what’s really going on behind the scenes, the threat that it poses to trans people and our access to effective health care, and the systems of oppression that fuel it. We all want to protect youth, but the answer to the problems we’re facing isn’t to reduce access to care, it’s supporting trans and detrans people’s medical decisions with evidence, comprehensive resources, and respect for our autonomy. I can’t undo the damage my contributions have caused, but perhaps this will inform the vanguard trying to safeguard our rights.
Before I go into detail about all of that, it’s important to understand how I got here. Boring personal stuff, I know.
Initial Journeys
I’ve known I was trans since I was 15. Would have started transition when I turned 19 but, well, life happens. Mental and medical health stuff came up and I realized I needed more time to figure things out before moving forward. Over the next ten years, I worked on improving my life as much as possible while researching what I could into what effects medical transition would have on my well-being before finally transitioning at age 29.
What I noticed was one key thing: there is little to no research into long-term health impacts for transmasculine people, especially those of us who are also disabled. Still, my life was as stable as I could get it and my discomfort with my body was through the roof, so I moved forward with the process anyway. I knew that I would likely go off testosterone in a few years and I was fine with that, though there’s even less known about what happens when stopping.
What intrigued me was the fact that there was a group of people who were discussing this issue. They called themselves detransitioned (detrans for short). Seeing an opportunity to learn about different experiences, I started connecting with some of them, especially one detrans woman who had been part of the scene for years, to get a better understanding of our shared medical system. I had some uneasy feelings that had initially kept me on the outskirts but I saw mutual needs in our health care system that really needed to be addressed on a larger scale. Namely, we both felt that there were some serious gaps in research and health care for trans, detrans, and gender nonconforming people, especially when it came to follow-up or continuity of care. The previously-mentioned detrans woman shared another concern that I strongly held: the psychiatric system’s efforts to limit trans and gender nonconforming people’s autonomy while subjecting us to more trauma and oppression just for being ourselves.
I eventually carried these criticisms into the doctor’s office in December 2018, ultimately deciding to start tapering off testosterone the next spring. I was still trans, but with my health issues being so complex and already being at elevated risk of stroke, I knew that staying on testosterone long-term wasn’t in my best interest. I discussed with my new endocrinologist my wariness of the lack of research into health outcomes for people like me, while also recognizing that said lack of research covered going off testosterone just as much as going on. It was uncharted territory but territory I was intent on navigating at the time. I began tapering in April of 2019 and finished by the end of June.
Careful with charting uncharted territory. You get exactly what you signed up for, unintended consequences and having to figure out your way out.
As I finished tapering off hormones, I noticed something odd about my eyesight. I had developed a blind spot blocking my right eye’s central vision. It was only noticeable at night, but it was sizable and distinct. This worrying symptom turned out to be progressive; by mid September, I no longer had any central vision at night, could barely use my computer due to light sensitivity, and struggled to adjust between brightly lit and low lit environments. I effectively became housebound after 4:30 PM unless accompanied by sighted friends or colleagues. I went through the wringer of specialist after specialist, trying to find a clear answer, to no avail. I knew my still-continuing vision loss was connected to the hormone therapy, as it has been linked to cataracts, macular degeneration, and central serous chorioretinopathy in people assigned female at birth, but only a handful of providers acknowledged this as a possibility. Alas, my endocrinologist was not among them. After coming to her with my experience and getting blown off, I started becoming much, much more public about the experience. I was in pain but determined to inform others so they wouldn’t get blindsided like I did. Noble goal, really. Noble goals are rarely realized.
The Birth of GCCAN
In August 2019, a detransitioned family therapist named Carey Callahan put out an organizing call to build bridges between trans and detrans people who had experienced medical trauma. The two of us teamed up with Grace Lidinsky-Smith and Corinna Cohn, where we worked to found an advocacy organization aimed at broadening the discussion on effective transgender-related health care. We also sought to do so without any political allegiance, purposefully maintaining distance from individuals or organizations that could weaponize the group’s message for their own gain. It was, by and large, a patient rights organization meant to be by the people for the people. That December, the group went live under the name Gender Care Consumer Advocacy Network, or GCCAN.
There’s a pretty simple reason why I got involved. I was intent on working with others to make a difference so people didn’t have to go through the same suffering that I did. I was grappling with my vision loss after stopping hormone therapy, and despite attempts at self-advocacy, my providers (including specialists in trans health care) either had nothing to offer or rejected the possibility entirely. The issue was that, not only is that a misguided and ultimately futile mission, but I was in no position to actually get involved in such work. My decision to help found this organization was made in the context of acute medical trauma, a decision that compounded said trauma far more than it helped. I became focused on that mission and, in doing so, got pulled into all kinds of directions I ordinarily wouldn’t go in. And in the process, I began to see hidden motives at work that made me question just how well-meaning the project was. The longer I stayed, the more I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeply, deeply wrong.
Behind The Curtain
There’s three things that are really critical when analyzing what these networks are up to.
- In these circles, everyone knows each other, have similar beliefs to lean on, and actively collaborate in order to advance them across international borders.
- They are intentionally deceptive about said beliefs when interacting with people outside of those circles, especially if those people are progressives with some degree of power or influence.
- Their power stems from a void of genuine, collaborative resources for trans and detrans people seeking to advocate for their own well-being.
Right off the bat, I started getting a sense of what this inner circle was like. When the organizing group first began meeting in late August 2019, there was repeat discussion of who would be a “good fit” for the founding board and why. All sorts of suggestions came up, such as the likes of Helena from the now-defunct Pique Resilience project. But what really topped it off was when one organizing member, who I will leave unnamed, suggested including Cathy Brennan (previously of Gender Identity Watch) due to her law background. They were close friends and she thought Brennan would be a useful addition.
That suggestion made me sick to my stomach. It really did. Problem was, I couldn’t name that then. Knowing that I was working with people who would react negatively to “uh, she’s actually really transphobic and is well known for harassing and doxxing people,” I had to word my word my opposition differently. “She’s transphobic as hell” turned into “she’s not a consumer of these systems of care and this goes in opposition to the values we are trying to establish.” It worked, but not for long.
Come September, there was discussion of networking with other groups with “similar values.” One example was when Callahan, the group leader who eventually became the founding board President, inquired about what relationship to have with Rethink Identity Medicine Ethics (ReIME). This group was organized by Jane Wheeler, Lisa Marchiano, and Jenny Cyphers. Wheeler is some kind of lawyer that I’m not terribly familiar with, though she’s gotten featured in places such as the National Review. The important names are Cyphers and Marchiano.
Cyphers is a parent of a “desisted teen” who prominently posts on places like 4thWaveNow, the Facebook group Transgender Questions (Parents), and Twitter. On 4thWaveNow, her posts exist alongside posts going on about the social contagion of false memories (courtesy of Ray Blanchard and Michael Bailey, more common names) and the interview of Chiara, another member of the Pique Resilience crew and the desisted daughter of 4thWaveNow’s main admin Denise/”Marie Verite.” On Transgender Questions, Cyphers comments excessively alongside other “concerned” parents who, if you analyze their Facebook pages, circulate anti-vaccination propaganda because something-something autism. She serves as a keen example of the kinds of parents that I have had to deal with and frequently dodge, as well as those who seek out Marchiano and others in her circle for professional guidance and validation.
Marchiano is the author of the infamous clickbait paper “Outbreak: On Transgender Teens and Psychic Epidemics,” where she argues in all seriousness that trans teens assigned female at birth are hysterical and being swept away by a social contagion spread through Tumblr, YouTube, and Reddit. She’s also a fierce proponent of “gender critical therapy,” claims to have “consulted” with parents of trans teens, regularly latches onto detrans people for her own advancement (especially if they line up with what she considers “rapid onset gender dysphoria”), sees detrans clients and uses their anecdotes as evidence of “gender critical therapy” being necessary, and is active in many similar organizations — including globally through the likes of the Society for Evidence Based Gender Medicine (SEGM). In terms of sketchy therapists using groups like GCCAN to peddle conversion therapy snake oil, she’s one of the pros. Pay attention to her. She’s going to keep coming up.
As it turns out, Marchiano had heard about GCCAN’s impending formation and wanted to connect about a “detransitioner needs survey.” Kind of an interesting thing to happen considering that the organization hadn’t gone public yet, so how did she find out? Already I had a bad feeling about this and tried to make that known, to no avail. Callahan, Lidinsky-Smith, and I met with her and Wheeler on September 14th to understand what they wanted, which was to advertise its call for participants to our membership base (that didn’t even exist yet). The organizing group decided unanimously to turn them down because it seemed like they were coming to us in bad faith. Or so I thought.
That’s all sketchy enough, but things started getting really weird come November and beyond. On November 1st, Callahan sent out an email with the agenda for that weekend’s organizing meeting. Most of it was dull stuff, like finding more potential board members and plans for making a fundraising video. But she also added discussing the “possibility of networking with [the] UK group” that Charlie Evans was starting, Detransition Advocacy Network. Evans made a splash after her speech about the “medicalization of gender non conforming children” at the Leeds Lesbian Strength Rally that July. She quickly organized a group of supporters from the UK gender critical and radical feminist scenes, securing BBC radio interviews and a launch event for her new network through Make More Noise!. At the event, Keira Bell was introduced alongside a handful of other detrans women, and later became their Steering Committee Chair before she went her own way. Evans also networked with professionals such as Stella O’Malley, a psychotherapist from Ireland who is also part of SEGM and many other groups, to oversee the “team of therapists” meant to support detrans people.
Not all of this information had come out by the time we had our meeting. Still, I sensed something was off. I was wary of the fact that Evans had not herself medically transitioned while claiming to advocate for people who had. Moreover, I was suspicious of a possible grift and noted a concerning pattern of parading survivors of medical trauma in front of cameras for publicity. This sense was confirmed with her features in BBC Radio’s “File on 4” later that month, featuring the story of Debbie (note: I am not linking to this out of sensitivity for Debbie’s story). I expressed my concerns to the rest of the board, suggesting that we wait until we knew more.
Later that month, we made plans to do press and political outreach for launch. One example was our meeting with Ryan Starzyk, the progressive candidate to represent Arizona’s District 24 in the state Senate. As a gay man, he also served as Vice President of Phoenix Pride and thus considered himself to be a fierce political ally for trans people. One of the board members had already been in contact with him and thought gaining a progressive ally in politics was a good way to add nuance to developing legislation. The morning of November 17th, the board presented its case to Starzyk, using my position as the Vice President and spokesperson to pitch the mission and our officer roles for a flair of legitimacy. Instantly, he was moved by our story, seeing the organization as doing valuable work. There was just one problem: he had the impression that it was a trans self-advocacy group because of how members of the group presented themselves. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even balanced between trans and detrans needs despite its claims. Everything, from the language used to the initiatives and Bill of Rights drafted, was constructed to lead people to believe the organization offered more support to trans people than it actually did. The whole thing was a farce.
On the press side of the things, we had to figure out what journalists to connect with. This was where I worked with Lidinsky-Smith, who would later become GCCAN’s President. She had already been in contact with Denise from 4thWaveNow, who forwarded her list of close connections. In it were the usual suspects: Jesse Singal of the Atlantic, Andrew Sullivan (formerly) of New York Magazine, Madeleine Kearns of the National Review, and Bernard Lane of the Australian. Less directly but just as critical was her close relationship with Stephanie Davies-Arai from TransgenderTrend, who was tapped into the UK press network. You know, the same network covering Bell v. Tavistock across the pond. I had pitched the idea of engaging with local journalists instead. That never panned out. Too much work, people said.
December comes around. GCCAN officially launches, just in time for fundraising season. And guess where the majority of the donations came from? Parents, gender critical or radical feminists, and shady practitioners such as Marchiano. Critics of said efforts are picking up such trends, as this same pattern appears to exist in multiple crowdfunding campaigns for UK legal cases. I know that sometimes, such as in the case of WoLF, there’s more of a focus on how large right-wing organizations influence operations through large donations in classic quid-pro-quo fashion. However, starting these groups works differently. At least in the beginning, the funding is all grassroots from “concerned citizens.” This is consistent with the startup fundraising of other related groups such as SEGM. While it may change as the groups grow and attract big donors, it’s crucial to understand how they get started because influence starts with swaying the minds of the public. Tug on the the heartstrings enough and they’ll lower their guard and accept shadier deals if they think it is the only option.
And what do you do when you want to tug on heartstrings? You talk about kids and tragic backstories.
January 2020. The pace picks up. GCCAN starts getting more and more pressure from “gender critical” parents, particularly over its peer support group initiative. At one point, someone submits a request that “GCCAN write a letter supporting Ken Zucker against being deplatformed at McGill.” Callahan and I finish an interview about my experience with unethical or uninformed care, as well as failed legal channels, and publish it on her Medium and the GCCAN website. The PR team circled it around where we could, again banking on its emotional appeal. Tug, tug, tug. Then, when word gets around about the South Dakota bill HB 1057 and several others like it, I make the suggestion of publishing a statement. This regrettably set the stage for later statements, and eventually, a new initiative for legal and legislative advocacy. Keep tugging. Those heartstrings open purses and mouths for outrage.
February. Remember what I said earlier about Marchiano from ReIME doing that survey and how the board had turned her and Wheeler away? Well, turns out then-President Callahan didn’t. February 1st, she forwarded an email exchange with Marchiano talking about a draft of said survey to review for feedback. According to Callahan, ReIME “really wanted a relationship with [GCCAN],” yet I held skepticism that any of the needs identified in the survey would even get addressed should they be identified. While the board wasn’t informed of who the principal investigator was at the time, calls for participants revealed it to be Angie Henderson of University of Northern Colorado and the Avery Center. Primarily a researcher of sex trafficking, her interest in or expertise on trans or detrans matters was also questionable, as was her intent on follow-up. Similarly with ReIME, who like GCCAN, SEGM, and other such groups, offered nothing more than media noise and increasingly-empty promises to eventually build supports.
Then, news about another bill drops. Callahan emails newspaper clippings about a hyperpartisan bill in Ohio to ban conversion therapy, with the implication that “this can become an opportunity for [GCCAN]. Perhaps to meet with the democrats and lobby for nuance in the ban conversion therapy bills?” The board decided to table it for the time being, though a statement would go out at some point anyway. Around the same time, Lisa Littman (of “rapid onset gender dysphoria” fame) released a survey on detransition that caused an uproar. My PR counterpart, Lidinsky-Smith, wanted to promote it on Twitter, to which I noted there was no public indication it met the consumer-informed requirements laid out in GCCAN’s Bill of Rights. As people got increasingly frustrated with me, it was evident that I was viewed as interference. That became crystal clear when Callahan resigned as President and the remaining board met in New York City to discuss what to do next. Lidinsky-Smith and I butted heads over who our primary outreach targets should be, therapists and other professionals or the people served, and come February 22nd, she replaced Callahan as President.
By this point, I had enough. My efforts to advocate and do damage control from within were failing. On March 1st, I resigned from my position as Vice President, citing concerns of the direction GCCAN was taking in opposition to its original vision. The supposed dedication to remain separate from groups not run or properly informed by those of us receiving care had clearly vanished. As angles became more politically slanted, it dawned on me that I was a token at the table. My most valuable asset to the group wasn’t my knowledge or skill set in patient rights advocacy, it was my medical trauma as a transmasculine person. While my skills and my public platform were important to the organization’s initial development, essential even, it paled in comparison to the benefits brought by the emotional appeal of my story. Any supports I would have needed in that organization, I would have had to develop myself, as no one else shared the commitment. I also felt that my sense of self as a transmasculine butch wasn’t taken seriously, a feeling that was later confirmed by others who had left connected scenes. In the end, I knew that I wasn’t going to be happy if I stayed, and I didn’t want to be a part of something that I foresaw as doing serious harm. I refused to go along with efforts to weaponize my life and my work against my own people, and particularly youth.
During the course of my disappearance from public view, the machine lives on. Lidinsky-Smith, in her new role as President, pursued the connections with Littman I had opposed. She interviewed Littman to promote her new study, even though her past paper was designed to prove a pre-established theory and the detrans people she collaborated with were already firm believers in “rapid onset gender dysphoria” (ROGD). A statement was released on Ohio House Bill 513, the same bill that Callahan had notified the board of in February. Fundraising efforts continued, interviews were done, and petitions to the American Psychological Association were made about their practice guidelines for treating trans and gender nonconforming people. Detrans activist Laura (a.k.a. FlohrFritz) released a “message of hope” aimed at British trans youth now without medical care, featuring contributions by both Lidinsky-Smith and Callahan. This despite the fact that both Lidinksy-Smith and Callahan celebrated the ruling in contradiction to previous public and private statements. A new void was created, so of course here they come to the rescue. Marchiano, of course, is making preparations to present at an upcoming conference alongside Jennifer “the Jews- I mean, Soros and the Pritzkers are transing the youth” Bilek, Julie Bindel, and Marcus and Susan Evans (also of SEGM — funny that). And now, WoLF has confessed to coordinating legal efforts to bring the repercussions of the Bell v. Tavistock case to the United States. With numerous bills pending in different states, it’s only a matter of time before the wildfire spreads back to its source.
Why It Matters, and Why I’m Coming Forward Now
Remember what I said about all this being connected to a lack of genuine, collaborative resources that address the health care needs of both groups? When there are people in acute states of trauma who are desperately seeking support, it is very easy for predatory individuals or groups to latch onto them. Sometimes we’re taken along for the ride, other times converted into the new cause.
Bell v. Tavistock is a perfect example of the latter.
Keira Bell’s victory relied heavily on her lawyer, Paul Conrathe of Sinclairs Law. More notably, he holds strong connections with ADF International. ADF International is a branch of Alliance Defending Freedom, the far-right legal group who has routinely tried to recruit detrans people for lawsuits targeting trans health care in the United States. Cautions were released within the detrans community, both internally and externally through a collectively signed statement, noting the harm that such collaboration would bring to reproductive and LGBTQ+ rights as a whole. Conrathe in particular has a reputation of targeting abortion rights (again using “informed consent” and regret as his primary argument) and trans-inclusive guidances released in schools. He’s also chair director of Eagle House Group, a “family run, independent provider of autism schools in London and Surrey” which uses practices like applied behavioral analysis (ABA) that are widely regarded as reparative by autistic self-advocates. Eagle House Group, and by extension Conrathe, went under fire in 2007 when it was discovered that they rented the Banham Marshalls College grounds from George Robson’s estate. Robson had been convicted of five counts of child abuse in 2005, impacting over a hundred victims with accounts dating as far back as 1974. Conrathe, of course, insisted that there was no contact between Robson and the students through Eagle House, falling back on their reputation (despite said reputation including, say, ABA). Given the case’s heavy focus on fertility and informed consent, and transphobic parent groups wringing their hands about autism, it’s no wonder he was chosen for the job. But at whose expense?
To make his argument, Conrathe had to recruit “expert witnesses” of dubious backgrounds and “expertise.” One such expert was the likes of Paul Hruz, an Associate Professor of Paediatrics, Endocrinology, and Diabetes at Washington University. Hruz has presented at a number of far-right panels targeting trans youth, including at the Heritage Foundation, despite his own university denouncing his expertise. He also co-authored the review “Growing Pains” alongside Lawrence Mayer and Paul McHugh in the New Atlantis, a publication of the anti-LGBTQ+ think-tank Ethics and Public Policy Center. McHugh has an extensive legacy, ranging from being a founder and board member of False Memory Syndrome Foundation to shutting down the John Hopkins gender identity clinic. Is it possible that the Heritage Foundation and ADF are preparing his replacement(s) in light of his prominent voice in conservative medical testimony and his age?
Then there’s Steven B. Levine.
Here’s the thing about Levine. He’s a recent favorite from the ADF and Heritage Foundation’s testimony toolkit and all-around scumbag. Levine founded the Case Western Reserve University Gender Identity Clinic in 1974, a clinic famous for stringent restrictive gatekeeping to access gender affirming care where he still serves as director. His primary expertise is in adult services, noting that only “[a]n occasional child was seen during this era.” He made his recent breakthrough in 2019 by testifying in the Texas custody case debating youth Luna Younger’s right to social transition and health care. Since then, he sent testimony and affidavits to cases related to Medicaid coverage in Pennsylvania and school guidances in Wisconsin. No matter the type of case, his testimony remains largely the same to the point of being literally copy-pasted: gender affirming care for minors is experimental treatment they can’t consent to. Not as well known? He defended abusers during the Catholic church sex abuse scandal, arguing that some victims may have “psychologically consented” and musing as to whether or not it really had long-term impacts on their well-being. So teens can’t consent to puberty blockers, but they can consent to being assaulted. Really looking out for the welfare of women and children, huh?
Now, given Bell’s feminist views, it stands to reason that this strategy was devised by her legal team, not herself. That’s because attorneys like Conrathe and other ADF affiliates are parasitic, aiming to latch onto the genuine needs of people in pain if it can serve the larger cause. That’s why originally, detrans women in the US pushed back against their attempts to weasel in back in 2017. They can identify people in distress, people who just want to do something both to alleviate their own pain and to prevent the pain of others.
They succeed because people like Bell, and people like myself, have few supports elsewhere to rely on. In the wake of such absence, opportunity for new “advocacy groups” appears. Multiple such groups emerged, sometimes within months of each other and with many of the same faces. On the parent and ally side of things, 4thWaveNow and TransgenderTrend were among the earliest heavy hitters, later joined by Parents of ROGD Kids and Gender Health Query. On the medical and mental health professional side, the previously mentioned SEGM and ReIME, as well as the Pediatric and Adolescent Gender Dysphoria Working Group. Legally, the Kelsey Coalition and ultra-conservative Child & Parental Rights Campaign. For self-advocacy, groups like Pique Resilience Project, Detransition Advocacy Network, Detrans Canada, and of course, GCCAN. Many of these groups, GCCAN included, claimed to be invested in resource and community building. Yet time and time again, the same strategy emerges. Appeal to public outrage, get involved in legal battles, and hinder both scientific and human rights progress before moving on to other things. The scorched earth approach could take decades of blood, sweat, and tears from community activists to repair.
When Bell said in her testimony that “[she] began to feel more lost, isolated and confused than [she] did […] pre-transition,” I believe her. I believe her because I, too, felt more lost, isolated, and confused after my experience. I also believe that the resources she had available to her in the NHS were inadequate. This is a complaint I have heard from British residents many times, including trans people. Yet the legitimate pain has lead to catastrophic outcomes, negatively impacting care for youth all across the UK and now potentially worldwide. Instead of seeking to improve those supports that were inadequate or build ones to fill the gaps, she like my former collaborators chose to align with efforts to destroy them, even when those impacted try to explain the harm.
As I said before, fewer, highly restrictive and controlling options isn’t the answer. We need more than what we’re getting, not less. We need more research, more comprehensive understanding into the short- and long-term mental and physical health needs of trans and gender non-conforming people across the age span, and better continuity of care with providers. We need systems where we can work collaboratively with the providers we seek care from, without power hierarchies, and with the knowledge that our health care outcomes are both well-researched and managed. We need structural systems when that care fails, or when we are subject to medical abuse or neglect from unethical providers, and social systems of support from peers who understand what’s at stake. And yes, we absolutely do need more supports for survivors of childhood abuse, bullying, and homophobia, particularly during formative years. But this takes far more work than the “just stop it all” approach going on now. It is a long, agonizing, and sometimes unfulfilling project that takes all hands on deck.
And that’s exactly why it’s needed, now more than ever. The darkness seems suffocating, crushing all hope of survival, but it just takes one light to push back the shadows. Our lives matter. Trans and detrans lives matter. Not just in the past, but now and in future years to come.
We have a lot of work ahead of us, but it can be done. Just as it has been for millennia.
