What to Expect About the Unexpected: The First Year (or so) of Detransition
I thought I would have more done by now. The trials and tribulations of detransition and how to make it go as smoothly as possible.
I thought by now I would have more done.
It has been two years since I took off the shell I had crafted. Letting go of him was bittersweet, because Silas was me even if he wasn’t. Detransitioning has been a difficult journey in finding ways to deal with all the issues I hid myself away from. More than that, it has been a rocky medical and legal road. While my driver’s license now says female, my passport and birth certificate contain a certain falsehood. Moreover, all of these documents still belong to “Silas.”
I really thought that by now, I would have more done.
It all seemed to go so quickly the first time, despite the low-level hurdles. In a few months, I will turn thirty. Were I still receiving a prescription, I would have been taking testosterone for twelve years at that point – when I took my first injection as a senior in high school, I never dreamed I would one day become a woman in her 30s. It is still taking some getting used to. Mourning the girlhood I denied myself and celebrating what I have experienced thus far are intertwined with the mundane of daily living.
To detransitioners and those trying to decide whether or not detransition is right for them, I would like to share some of what has helped me cope with suddenly stumbling into the world as an adult woman after living as trans from childhood.
Call Your Doctor
Transition can be exceptionally difficult on the body. Binding for extended periods of time, avoiding restrooms, and unhealthy eating habits are some of the things I struggled with as a teenager. Being on testosterone for almost a decade also took a toll on my body.
I cannot offer medical advice, but I urge detransitioners and those on the fence about detransition to speak with their doctors. As a transman, I avoided going to the gynecologist, because I could not bear the pain of being misunderstood or potentially disparaged. Had I continued this avoidance when I made those first steps out of my man-shaped shell, I may not have known about the cervical issues I was dealing with. For privacy’s sake, I will not go into details except to say that the strength of the female reproductive system in healing itself was one of the first amazements to me that led to a greater appreciation for a body which I previously despised. Even if you aren’t sure if detransition is right for you, keeping your body as healthy as possible only helps you in the long run.
Call your doctor. Ask for a referral to an OBGYN. Get bloodwork done. Get exams done. Find out especially what sort of post-transition care you can receive, whether this is hormone treatment or restorative surgery.
If the medical field terrifies you, that is understandable, but it is no excuse to avoid the resources your tax dollars pay for. You aren’t going to be able to do the work yourself. Bring an advocate or loved one to appointments to assuage your fears, but face them for the sake of your health.
Call Your Therapist
One of the greatest ironies of my life has been that, during my teen years, the revolving door of therapists all wanted one thing: to get to the bottom of why I so insistently claimed that I had a male brain, a male soul within my female body – and now that I am an adult ready to face those old beliefs, I struggle to find a therapist who will allow me to be critical of gender ideology.
No matter how much grace I am offered when I talk about my post-transition body dysmorphia – how strange my mastectomy feels, my voice sounds, my body looks – I am encouraged to have sympathy and respect for the identities of people who aren’t in the room. This is a complaint I have heard from many detransitioners. Any perceived “transphobia” during therapy sessions must be derailed from its message to discuss its tone.
It can be hard to find adequate support in the “affirmation” era. Beyond Trans, very graciously, offers therapy resources for detransitioners and those considering detransition. There are also informal support groups on Discord, Facebook, and the like, which I have found enormously helpful. It was on an online server that I heard others using female pronouns for me for the first time since I was in middle school, and this helped me begin to crack the shell I had built.
It is a common misconception that when one detransitions, it is because that person never had dysphoria. On the contrary, for myself and most detransitioners I have known, dysphoria remains. The difference is a shift in mindset: that dysphoria is a symptom of deeper-set issues, and that while transition may alleviate it to some degree, it can also exacerbate it. We have been told for so long that the options are to transition or to live a miserable, inauthentic life ending in inevitable suicide. To resist, desist, or detransition is to say, “No, this is not black and white. There has to be another way.”
Whether or not one is able to find a therapist who is gender critical, it can still be valuable to seek out a therapist to get to the root and surrounding issues of one’s dysphoria. Simply talking a few times a month, however, is not enough. The “homework” is crucial. Issues such as disordered eating or self harm (and everything else that so often comes hand-in-hand with dysphoria) require daily monitoring and reflection in order to get the full benefit of learning skills and coping strategies in therapy.
Talk to People... Regular People Included.
As cathartic as joining targeted support groups and talking to others in the same boat can be, one must eventually make it back to land. When we are trans, we believe the only people who truly understand us are those who identify in the exact same ways that we do. We believe that others – Outsiders – could never fully connect to us. It can be hard not to fall into the same trap when detransitioning. However, in both cases, it is crucial to make and maintain relationships with those different from us. Be this with family members, classmates, coworkers, neighbors, or anyone else in one’s vicinity, outside relationships help to anchor one to the real world.
Detransition does not have to be one’s new activism. It does not have to be political. While it can be these things, it is not an obligation.
The most important thing, especially early on, is to heal.
I avoided detransition for years when I had considered it, one reason being that I thought that I had no way of doing so. I had stopped thinking of myself as a girl when I was still a child, and thus had “never been a teenage girl.” How, then, could I be a woman? More frightening as I got older: how could I be a woman when my niece had only ever had an uncle, my in-laws had only ever had a son-in-law, and my new friends had only ever known Silas?
These situations were awkward, painful, and confusing. All of them have been worth letting go of the stress of maintaining a man-shaped shell which no longer fits.
I told my distant family members through texts and cards that I was embracing my natal sex, and my coworkers through handwritten notes that I had been hiding it all along. It took while to figure out what this meant about how I needed to present myself: absolutely nothing. These days I am less occupied with making myself look more masculine than I am, and am not concerned with overt feminization either.
I notice more how I am similar to other women these days. From the butch with her buzzcut and basketball shorts to the ponytailed cashier scanning her groceries, I am more like other females than not, regardless of the ways in which we express ourselves and live our lives as women. Even if a woman I am speaking to has never taken testosterone, her facial hair is not so dissimilar from mine. Due to social pressures, we all lament our bodies similarly. We all live with the same fluctuations of our biological hormones, each of us differently-moving waves in a single ocean.
Which brings me to my final thought…
Reconnect With Your Body.
My first suggestion for anyone struggling with dysphoria will always be to take up whatever form of strength-training is most accessible. Any exercise, really, but I have a special bias for strength training.
There is something about slow weight-lifting, breathing deeply, and closing my eyes to an upbeat playlist that invigorates me like nothing else. I am not the strongest person in the gym. I do not have the best form. I am, however, happy. I love feeling my pulse in my muscles. I love being breathless. I even love when sweat drips into my eyes, as much as I obviously hate it. In those moments, I do not think about my flaws. I just think about achieving my goals. It can be hard not to compare myself to others, whether that’s wishing I really could become male and look like so many of the strong men I see, or wishing I looked more like the leaner women exercising beside me.
So I close my eyes and I think about my breath and my pulse instead.
If going to a gym does not appeal to you, then you’re in luck: your body is portable. It can be strengthened anywhere.
Moving one’s body, whether by simply walking, taking the stairs, jogging, or cranking out a few push-ups in the living room, is essential for healthy living. Practices which help one build a mind-body connection can help one feel more grounded and less anxious.
When your body does not feel as though it belongs to you, “reclaiming it” feels crucial. We may do this by chasing any method of altering our bodies, even medicalization. But it does belong to you. It always has. It requires no rebranding. It does not need to be replaced; at most, it may need to be refinished.
Post surgery and hormone treatments, this can be challenging. I chose to purchase breast forms, which felt really weird to do despite how many people said it wasn’t weird. It has become very natural over time. I know post-mastectomy detransitioners who have opted not to wear prosthetics as well. It can take a lot of trial and error to rediscover how to live comfortably in our bodies. Wearing women’s clothes made me feel like a crossdresser for the first several months, though I now feel very comfortable in the closet I have curated. I have enormous respect for the women who genuinely embrace their masculinity, not because they feel locked into it or pressured into it, but because they love it.
For myself, part of my masculinity was a shell over myself, and thus was necessary to break out of. I love my leg hair, but not my facial hair. Even this little detail is what I mean when I say there is no going back, no matter how old one transitions at. There is only ever moving forward.
In short, detransition is messy, and a choice not made lightly or easily. Much like transition, it is not achieved overnight, as there are tricky legal hoops and fees on top of medical anxieties to deal with. In the mix of it all, one should never neglect physical, mental, or social health needs. I hope the best for all on this journey, no matter what stage you are in.
This is a deeply insightful paper
I cannot even begin to imagine what this has all been like. Putting it out there for others who may be considering returning to form is a huge gift and you can be both an inspiration and a caring guide. I wish you well and have little doubt you will be able to reclaim the person who you are. Good on ‘ya.