If "trans" means "to cross" then "detrans" means "to come back" - to come home.
There's a reason why people sometimes refer to their trans identities in the third person, because it is such a disconnect within yourself that you start to create a character.
You give that character a name, and you try and take the image of what you envisage that character to look like into reality through a skewed, deeply controlled and filtered perspective.
You take 100 photos, delete 97 and then post it as if you didn't spend hours getting it right. “Wow you look amazing, oh my god” …….“you look cis” …… “100% pass!” “imagine what HRT would do to you”
The affirmation becomes intoxicating.
You then start to really change the way your character sends messages, becoming aware of not using enough emotive speech in my character's instance. Saying phrases like “awwwwww” or anything I felt would resemble a woman talking rather than a man.
Your 'unique' character becomes a clichéd stereotype, following the grain of what is considered right or wrong at the time by your fellow trans peers.
You then seek out other characters, who reinforce and refine your own character.
Then you tell your entire family that you are this character now and that's the way its always been.
You tell your bank, driving insurance, energy supplier, mobile phone provider of your characters name. You now have proof your character exists.
You tell your doctors that it is their duty to make this character come to life and you demand a referral to the gender clinic.
You get bored of waiting and go your own way. You know what you need, you need HRT! You book a private assessment and you get two separate opinions for £500.
Congratulations! You have a diagnosis, don't worry that its full of errors and they clearly wrote it quickly knowing you just wanted HRT and you probably wouldn’t correct them anyway.
You're still waiting for the gender clinic, but because you now meet the criteria, you can start HRT on bridging hormones! Heyyyy!! Success!
All the other characters gather round and tell you how happy they are that you have finally be given the 'right' HRT.
This is the best day of your character's life.
Your family tell you its just a character.
They worry endlessly that you will do something stupid, they tell you; come on, this isn’t you, this is a character!!
“NO! I AM THE CHARACTER! IT WAS ME ALL LONG. BIGOT!”
Some family don't know what to do. They cut you out. They can't bear to sit and watch. They know what's going to happen. Some family stick by – they'd rather be there then lose you.
You are not well. You go back online and tell people "hey, maybe I'm not this character after all?"
“….THEY are the problem…” “this is internalised transphobia from your transphobic family, I’m sorry”
You are getting so much attention for your suffering, you finally are being heard, you tell them about all the awful homophobic things that happened. All the other characters sit and hug, validate and affirm.
They say all the things that a salesman will tell you about a broken car, obscuring the truth and focusing on the fact ‘hey it's got wheels don't it?’
You work hard with a therapist, and you begin to see the character you’ve created.
You are so desperate not to lose it, you know what you could do to keep in the service, even though you really don't want to.
You ask to be referred for SRS.
They tell you to go for hair removal. You drag it out as long as you can, you defer appointments and make up excuses.
What should have taken 12 months took 2.5 years.
It's the day before surgery, there's something ticking in your mind trying to break through a formidable defence of cognitive dissonance.
You neatly lay your character on the bed, ready for the surgery you’re convinced will make you better and save your life.
You wake up in a hospital bed. Your character was just that all along, it was you. This is the big reveal, the curtain call – the gravity of what you've just done hits you so hard.
It's not what you thought it would be and its full of hidden terms and conditions; incontinence, discharge, areas of no sensation, some sensation, pain, UTIs, infections, low energy, varicose veins…
You become demoralised and realise this wasn't worth it all.
You can climax, that's great, but actually you’ve started to realise your dysphoria down below wasn't even that bad to begin with, and in fact the idea of being with another male is quite a nice idea in your head.
Then you realise actually you wrote your character all wrong to begin with, and no one really helped with that.
You're gay, and you're traumatised from a life of severe homophobia.
You realise there is no undoing any of this.
But you do realise you can come home.
You can detransition, which means throw away the character. Scrap it, it never was you to begin with, it was an idealised fiction that never met the test of reality.
You were always a feminine soul, but that doesn't mean you're a woman, it just means you're a feminine man. And that's okay! In fact it's freeing.
I feel like the shackles have come off, and I am myself again, I am back in the room.
I realise it was always just a character to begin with.
-TR
Thanks for sharing your story. Thanks for speaking up for the lost boys.
Beautifully written but shocking that those who are supposed to do no harm can carry out these procedures with so little evidence.