“Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person makes someone else doubt their own perceptions, memories, or understanding of reality. The term, which originated from the 1938 play and subsequent film Gas Light, describes tactics like lying, denying events, triangulation (projecting faults onto a victim), using confusion, and minimizing the victim’s feelings to gain power and control.”

The term “gaslighting” has become ubiquitous in recent years. I hear it applied in all kinds of contexts, but I can think of no context in which it applies better than discussions around gender.

Those of us who are parents of trans-identified adolescents and young adults have been gaslit by so many professionals—doctors, therapists, journalists, teachers—who tell us that our children were born with a brain-body mismatch. They tell us that we need to pursue medical interventions that arrest their natural puberty and alter their bodies, leaving them infertile and at risk of known and unknown risks and complications.

They tell us (and our children) that this is the only effective way to treat distress over one’s sex. Then they up the ante by telling us that if our children don’t receive this care, they are at high risk of suicide. “Would you like to have a dead daughter/son or a living son/daughter?” is the question commonly posed to parents who hesitate to affirm this diagnosis.

When we point out that our children showed little or no distress with their sex until they were introduced to the concept of gender identity, these professionals ignore our observations, telling us that we simply missed the signs all along that our children were distressed. They tell us that our children were afraid to reveal to us their distress for fear of rejection. They tell us this even though many of us are lifelong liberals. We did not model conformity to rigid gender roles and expression, and we certainly didn’t expect it of our children.

I’m writing this essay because one of the worst effects of gaslighting is the self-doubt it engenders. Parents—mothers especially—are already prone to second-guessing themselves. And now we have a whole society that is trying to undermine what we know we have observed in our own children. Like the character played by Ingrid Bergman in the film whose title lent its name to this distressing experience, we parents are left questioning ourselves and feeling isolated.

But the gaslighting affects more than just us parents. It’s broad and insidious, affecting our entire society. If anyone pushes back on the narrative, they are told to educate themselves. If anyone has concerns about fairness to female athletes, they are told to be kind. If anyone wants to keep biological males out of female-only spaces, they are accused of rightwing bigotry.

The threat of the true believer

Unlike many persons critical of gender ideology, I do not view the professionals who have gaslit us as villainous because, unlike the villain in the Bergman movie, many of them are true believers. Not only has gender ideology duped impressionable children who are looking for a way to explain their distress and awkwardness at puberty, it has duped the very professionals who are gaslighting us parents.

They see themselves as righteous defenders of vulnerable children and youth. They accept without question the premise that “gender-affirming care is life-saving.” And since there is no sound evidence that this is true, not to mention no sound evidence that one can indeed be born with a brain-body mismatch, the premise that gender-affirming care is life-saving is essentially a religious belief. And as Blaise Pascal wrote so many years ago, “men never do evil as completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.”

Where were all the transgender children 15 years ago?

These true-believer members of society don’t stop to consider the fact that, until the last 15 years or so, they had never heard of a transgender child. And yet, according to the 2023 data from the U.S. Centers of Disease Control and Prevention, more than 3.3% of U.S. high school students are transgender, and another 2.2% have at one time or another questioned whether they were.

If this is truly a condition with which a child is born and this many children are affected, wouldn’t these professionals have encountered at least a few individuals in past decades who were distressed about their sex? Wouldn’t they have read stories written before 2010 about suicide notes whose authors couldn’t bear to live a moment longer with the incongruence between their minds and bodies? 4thWaveNow published an excellent article years ago about the complete absence of this kind of distress in the historical record.

Do these professionals ever stop to reflect on the fact that suicides have actually increased in recent years just as gender-affirming care has become more widely available? If it’s truly life-saving, wouldn’t we expect the reverse?

“Gender-affirming care”: A perfect example of iatrogenesis

Iatrogenesis (unintended harm that results from medical treatment) is neither a new nor a controversial concept. Why do these true-believer professionals not stop to consider the possibility that the sudden availability of so-called gender-affirming care could be driving the growing desire—in fact the desperation—for it?

A couple of years ago I read a book by Nir Eyal called “Indistractable.” In chapter 5, Eyal describes a research study in which two groups of flight attendants who smoked were sent on two separate flights from Israel. One was a three-hour flight to Europe; the other was a 10-hour flight to the United States. Keep in mind that neither group could smoke during flight.

Both groups of flight attendants were asked to rate their cravings at set times during and after their flights. “If cravings were driven solely by the effect of nicotine on the brain,” Eyal writes, “one would expect that both groups would report strong urges after the same number of minutes had elapsed since their last cigarette; the more time passed, the more their brains would chemically crave nicotine. But that’s not what happened.”

Instead, the flight attendants who were over the Atlantic Ocean at the three-hour mark reported weak cravings, while their colleagues who had just landed in Europe reported their strongest cravings. Only later, when the U.S.-bound flight attendants were nearing their destination did they report their strongest cravings.

“It appeared that the duration of the trip and the time since their last cigarette didn’t affect the level of the flight attendants’ cravings.” What affected their desire was how much time was left before they could get their next cigarette. In other words, it was the close proximity of the relief of their cravings that intensified those cravings. The closer they got to that first satisfying inhale, the more desperate they were to get it.

I immediately saw the parallel to “gender-affirming care.” Until medical interventions became available that allowed people to look more like the opposite sex, people who were uncomfortable with their sex had to come to terms with the reality of their bodies. They didn’t pine for and obsess over something they couldn’t have. They got on with the business of living, and in time the distress disappeared or at least abated. This is consistent with a study published in 2013 by the Dutch showing that, in most cases, children who expressed discomfort with their sex grew out of this discomfort by adulthood. (Many trans-rights activists have tried to “debunk” the results of this study, but the evidence it provides remains strong and compelling.)

So-called gender-affirming care is a perfect example of iatrogenesis because it is the existence of these interventions that creates the distress—or greatly increases it. The gender-dysphoric of the past were like the flight attendants bound for America. At the three-hour mark, the discomfort of the flight attendants was manageable because they were not anticipating imminent relief. And until kids were told they could undertake medical interventions to “change their sex,” the pain and distress of puberty usually went away on its own.

Upping the ante with the specter of suicide

Unfortunately, kids are not just told that their distress could be removed by undergoing medical procedures; they are told they may commit suicide if they can’t get them. That’s essentially the message that is drilled home in every article published in the mainstream press about states that ban “gender-affirming care.” The recurring narrative is that these bans are putting the lives of vulnerable children at risk. But the reality is that it’s this oft-repeated narrative that is putting their lives at risk.

I think of Josh (Leelah) Alcorn, who committed suicide in 2014, as ground zero in the narrative around suicide and gender-related medicine. Alcorn’s parents refused to allow him to obtain gender-related medical interventions. According to one social media post I read, Alcorn was told online that if he couldn’t get medical interventions as an adolescent, he never stood a chance of passing as a woman, and passing was key to a good life. After reading messages like this, it’s not hard to imagine how a 17-year-old could feel hopeless enough to step in front of a fast-moving semi.

So who is at fault? Is it the parents who withhold the medical interventions that children crave? Or is it the people who suggest that kids will commit suicide without them?

Both medical professionals and journalists should know betterthan to broadcast such a narrative. It’s widely known that suicide contagion is real. Journalists even have special guidelines on reporting about suicide to guard against contagion. The Samaritans, an organization formed more than 70 years ago to help prevent suicide in the United Kingdom, developed these guidelines in 1994. The third item on their Do’s and Don’ts list is “Avoid over-simplification.”

Approximately 90 per cent of people who die by suicide have a diagnosed or undiagnosed mental health problem at the time of death. Over-simplification of the causes or perceived ‘triggers’ for a suicide can be misleading and is unlikely to reflect accurately the complexity of suicide. For example, avoid the suggestion that a single incident, such as loss of a job, relationship breakdown or bereavement, was the cause.

This CNN article about Alcorn from 2014 is a flagrant violation of that guideline. So too are all the articles suggesting that recent state bans on pediatric care will lead to more suicides. Can journalists not see how telling a vulnerable child that a state law puts them at risk of suicide in itself creates a suicide risk? Beware the self-fulfilling prophecy.

Physical sensations arising from psychological stimuli

Let’s go back for a moment to the study cited by Eyal. The study authors do not suggest that nicotine has no role in the distress of addiction and the intensity of cravings—it’s just not the only factor and perhaps not even the greatest.

Similarly, it’s not that Alcorn didn’t feel distress over his sex and a keen desire to change it; it’s that the availability of interventions made him fixate on his sex, and this fixation in turn amplified his distress. There’s a good chance that if Alcorn had been born 10 or even 5 years earlier, he would have survived adolescence and grown into a mostly well-adjusted (likely gay) adult.

It’s simply a fact that our physical state is subject to psychological stimuli. When I was a kid, teachers would occasionally send notes home to parents saying that a child in the class was found to have lice. That created an immediate “contagion” of itchiness. We all started to imagine things crawling on our scalps. Since the phenomenon of physical sensations arising from psychological ones is common, why do people dismiss the possibility that gender dysphoria could arise or intensify based on suggestion?

Puberty is a time when your body is changing—you’re developing secondary sexual characteristics: facial hair and deepening voices for boys, breasts and periods for girls. At a time when you feel awkward and shy, your body is changing in ways that make you stand out. And this makes you vulnerable to the idea that, if you aren’t comfortable with these changes or with the idea of growing up in general, you may well be transgender. Then you dive deeper. You read descriptions of gender dysphoria—the “dis-ease” with your changing body—and you begin to ruminate and fixate on these changes in your body.

Is it any wonder that children and young people become convinced that they have a brain-body mismatch for which there is only one solution? Is it any wonder that they become desperately distressed at the thought of not getting the medical interventions that they are told will remove their distress?

You are not crazy or evil

I wanted to write this essay as an antidote to the gaslighting parents face. We are neither crazy nor evil for recognizing that social contagion is a far more plausible explanation for the distress our kids have experienced and the disruption it has caused to their lives and our families.

When this issue upended my daughter’s (and my family’s) life a decade ago, the gender identity narrative was the only one in town. But I knew immediately—instinctively—that my daughter had latched onto gender ideology as a way to explain to herself why she felt so awkward and isolated at puberty.

My daughter was the classic ROGD child. She was never really gender nonconforming, but she has always been delightfully quirky—highly sensitive, intelligent, with some autistic characteristics. When she hit 13, she started having friendship troubles. Meanwhile, we had made the mistake of giving her a smartphone and not monitoring what she was doing online. She was on Discord a lot and Deviant Art. That was when she encountered the idea that maybe she was trans. To her, it made sense.

I, however, had broader experience. Having already run the gauntlet of puberty, I knew it was a time of great turmoil. I knew her distress was a normal part of coming of age. But she was on her smart phone constantly, listening to voices that told her that her distress meant her body was wrong and needed changing. Unfortunately, those voices prevailed over my own.

I spent most of her adolescence trying to dislodge this idea from her mind, to show her that puberty sucks for many people, whether they show it or not. She wavered some in her trans identification, at one point announcing she no longer saw herself that way. But her friend circle then consisted largely of kids who were to some degree questioning their gender. By the time she was 17, she was clearly identifying as trans again, and at 19 she announced she was starting testosterone. She has since paid a surgeon to amputate her breasts, but I remain ever hopeful that she will one day recognize that she doesn’t need this identity, that she can accept her natural body and live her life in peace and freedom.

If you are a parent of a trans-identified child, I hope this for your child, too. And if we as parents do not live to see our children find their way out of the morass of gender ideology, I hope we can be comforted in knowing that we saw the lie for what it was, we did our best to protect our kids, and never stopped loving them.

(I sent this letter to my daughter who recently turned 18, the legal age of adulthood)

Hey Kiddo,

You might eye roll when you read this, but I have not stopped pondering (referencing your text message).

When I read your text there was a part of me that wanted to laugh (child asking parent to ponder their actions/behaviours). But I didn’t. I am just sad. Sad that we are where we are.

I tried to reach out to you a few weeks ago because you had become so withdrawn. I obviously didn’t do that very well because you became very angry and upset. When you called me emotionally abusive (as well as spiritually abusive in the past), I felt that you were comparing me to your father, and that you feel that both your parents are abusive. I was shocked and upset. I did the only thing I could – retreat. How do I speak/act/think when my own child thinks I am abusive?

I ponder often and will always ponder about you. You are my child and I love you (I can feel you rolling your eyes here). My definition of love might not be the same as yours. Unconditional love doesn’t mean accepting everything and anything. That kind of love (with no boundaries) can do a lot of harm. I love you even when you choose a path of harm (this is unconditional love). I believe this path you are taking will only lead to harm. As a parent, I can’t say yes to something that I believe will harm my child. I love you. I wish I could protect you from all of this, from the world. But I can’t.

I ponder those times that we have experienced together that were definitely not abusive:

- Singing “Let It Go” in the car when we had the hiccups

- Walking down to McDonalds and stopping to watch the ducks on the way home

- Taking you to the pool with a friend each summer

- Hiking around the Lake District in the UK and having a warm hot chocolate at the end. “We are highlanders!!”

- Holding you from a distance and encouraging you to “stay in the boat” when I was working so hard to get you back home from your dad in Queensland during Covid lockdown.

- Telling stories in bed before turning the light out

- Pointing out the Teslas so that you could scream your disgust

- Coming to your rescue when you were upset at school

- Trying so hard to help you navigate high school without any information or understanding about neurodiversity

- Sitting with you in your room whilst you cried and waiting patiently until you were ready to share (although you don’t do that anymore)

- Making suggestions and listening whilst you were trying to navigate your online relationships

- Coffee outings

- Holiday trips together

- Walking the dog to the local park, sitting and talking together

- Laughing over silly memes and video clips in bed at night together

- And many more ponderings

You are an amazing young person (I can feel your eyes rolling again). You are creative, sensitive, thoughtful, inquisitive, complicated, fragile.

I see you. I may not see you the way you see you, but I see you. I gave birth to you. You were and are loved and cherished.

There are tens of thousands of families dealing with this very situation in Australia and New Zealand. We all share our stories, listen to each other and comfort each other in an online parent support group. I won’t share their stories until you are ready to read them. These parents share their distress and heartbreak. And the majority of these parents are not religious. We have done the research too. We are worried about the harms of this ideology. But our voices/views are interpreted as bigoted, phobic, harmful, discriminatory, TERF, abusive, you name it. I’m not going to get into a debate here. We will only dig our heals in deeper on each side of this chasm.

You are loved. Our views are different. I am a parent. I can’t agree with something that I believe will be harmful for my child. If this is something you need to pursue so that you can find out for yourself to see if it gives you the peace and harmony you are searching for, then go, my little bird, my little moth. I am not going anywhere. I will be here waiting.

I will not stop pondering.

I love you.

I love you.

After an extremely complicated pregnancy, I gave birth to my twin girls at 24 weeks. One of my twins weighed 1 lbs. 1 oz. and the other weighed 1 lbs. 10 oz. They spent 141 days in a neonatal intensive care unit. They both had heart surgeries, multiple eye surgeries, hernia repair, and a host of other medical procedures. Both were on ventilators for more than two months.

During the first five years of their lives, my husband and I took them to various pulmonologists, retina specialists, feeding specialists and developmental therapists. Sometimes we drove over an hour to get to these various hospitals and clinics. It was not unusual for our daughters to be re-hospitalized during the first two years, even for a simple cold.

The outcome for one of my twins was blindness, cognitive impairment and a seizure disorder. The other, a true miracle. She is healthy and intelligent. Excellent grades, no physical disabilities or any ongoing medical needs in spite of her premature birth. This makes it even harder for me to accept the fact that she wants to medically transition from female to male. Why would someone who literally beat all medical odds want to risk their physical health with cross sex hormones?

My husband and I were supportive early on when she came out as gay around age 13. She wanted to start wearing boys clothing at 14. Then it progressed to wanting shorter and shorter hair. Then came the he/him pronouns at age 16 and the desire to join boy’s sports. We tried to point out to her that none of the previous changes helped her find happiness. We found three different therapists for her but she stopped attending sessions. We tried to explain that she needed to figure out why she was so unhappy with her body. Changes like clothing and hair provided only a temporary high, not permanent happiness or comfort with herself.

Convinced that she needed to take the next steps, she urged us to let her go to a gender clinic. I wanted to discuss the side effects of cross sex hormones with her pediatrician. When I started the conversation at a routine physical (age 17), the doctor immediately asked my child what pronouns she preferred. After my daughter stated “he, him” the doctor frantically typed something into the laptop. I imagine that this is now a part of my daughter’s medical history. The doctors immediately told us that she would get a referral to a gender clinic. I again started asking about side effects of medical transition. The doctor stated that the clinicians were the ones to answer those questions and that we needed to go to the clinic to find out. She refused to discuss any of my concerns.

Everything I have read about gender clinics scares me. The fact that I won’t be part of the conversation. The fact that they might just take my daughter’s word as evidence that she is ready for medical transition. I fear that once she walks through the doors of the gender clinic, she becomes a patient. I fear that there will be no going back. So I refused.

Now, one year later, my daughter is 18 years old. This same doctor has now blocked me and my husband from any communication. The two people in the world who love her the most. The two people in the world who spent countless hours at hospitals and doctor’s offices advocating for her care, are deemed to be the enemy. We are no longer allowed access to her medical information. I wasn’t even allowed to get a copy of her physical, which I needed in order to get her registered for the new school year.

Every year we get closer and closer to a point where our daughter is going to do what she wants to do. We have run out of time. Now she is old enough to go where she wants to get “medical” treatment. Each year that went by from 13 until now, we thought we had time on our side. That eventually she would change her mind. A passing phase, just like the dozens of hobbies she tried and gave up on. Sports she showed interest in but then quit. Musical instruments she had to have but then stopped playing. She is trying to find out who she is. I can’t convince her that she is a miracle. She is enough. She is perfect the way she is.

Hi there! Me again.

The not-socially-conservative lady with a beloved lesbian, autistic teenage daughter who was offered testosterone by a doctor who’d known her for about 12 minutes. You can read about that (with no run-on sentences) here.

Unlike that post, I’ll keep this one short.

I shock people who know me when I say that I do not support the current model of “gender-affirming care” for minors.

To keep my friends listening, I need to be careful. The language I use matters.

Here’s what I do say:

1. I love that you care about children who are struggling. Did you know that the latest scientific studies show that medical transition does not prevent suicide? If this stuff saved children’s lives, I would support it. Can you imagine how terrifying it must be for parents who hear, “Would you like a trans son or a dead daughter”? Yet, that’s not a real thing.

2. I know that you value science. So, still following the science: did you know that puberty blockers started being prescribed before they were fully studied? New studies show that they affect more than just the reproductive system. Puberty blockers inhibit bone and brain development, damaging kids’ skeletons, brain function, and I.Q. This is because puberty is a time when the bones store calcium, and the brain and body grow really fast. Bodies are integrated systems. Puberty is about more than reproduction.

3. I’m scared that in the U.S., children are often offered puberty blockers or hormones on their first visit to the doctor, without any exploration of their other conditions, like autism or mental illness. (That’s what happened to my kiddo.) What do you think about that?

4. I have co-led an NIH study, unrelated to gender. Taxpayers paid for my work and I was grateful. Did you know that the doctor who is the most vocal advocate of these treatments has refused to publish the data from her NIH-funded study?

   Yet, she also recommended girls as young as 13 to get double mastectomies, saying they can have breast implants later if they change their minds. I wonder why no one has conducted a comprehensive follow-up study on what happened to those children? Don’t they deserve that?

5. Was adolescence hard for you? I found that I couldn’t function, so I wore my dad’s big flannel shirts for most of high school. How did it feel when your body changed so fast, and your mind was whirling with hormones? Did you struggle to find your group or feel like you didn't fit in?

6. I wonder: what if adolescence is meant to be challenging? When you were 13, did you have strongly held beliefs about yourself that you don’t hold now? Do you think children are equipped with the perspective to make decisions that will affect their entire lives? How do they know if they are uncomfortable temporarily because they are gay, or female, or changing a lot, and/or undiagnosed autistic? For more: check out this series by Maia Poet.

   Complex conversations are rare these days. I find they are best had in person, with humility, on a walk. All you can hope to do is plant seeds of curiosity.

   All of this stuff is so vulnerable: Adolescence, Gender, Sex, and Parenting.

   Vulnerability is an opportunity for deepening friendships.

   Ask questions.

   Listen to what your friends say. Give them grace and time.

   We can have complicated conversations.

   I hope your conversations go well, and I’d love to hear about them!

   I always have more to learn.

   Note: This post is about children. I support adults doing whatever they need to feel happy and well, as long as they aren’t hurting themselves or others. May my gentle, kind, adult transgender friends, whom I love (and share my concerns for their own children), thrive peacefully.

When I was told I was medically unable to have a baby I was devastated ... that was until a friend of ours called me one afternoon to tell me that his wife's sister was living on the streets of Los Angeles and her daughter (their niece) had been placed in foster care. We decided to go and see her. It was just a chance but we ended up bringing that little bundle home. We all fell in love with her.

Bekah was always a "different" child. She was a born leader and when she didn't get her way you knew about it. Bekah would wake up in the middle of the night, sit up straight in her bed and scream like as if she was in pain. Some refer to that as "night terrors". We tried so hard to make her life as normal as possible. We went on vacations, took trips, and we had fun as a family but I recall that she would act out occasionally.

The students at school would mock Bekah. She even got ridiculed by teachers. She did rub some people the wrong way. She was not the easiest child to get along with but she had some friends. When elementary school ended and I noticed boys picking on her, we decided to switch her into a new program for sixth grade at a neighboring elementary school and she did well there. She got good grades and won student of the year. The following year she moved to a middle school close by for seventh grade.

Seventh grade got off to a bad start. Bekah begged us to move her to a private school, which we did. Not long after starting school there, she began talking about being a "furry". I did some research on it, but there was not a whole lot of information back then. One day I got a call from the school psychologist who said Bekah had talked about suicide. Not long after that we switched her to another school where she claimed she was autistic.

After finally finishing high school, Bekah further delved into being a furry. Then she took a step further and she told us she born to be a man. We tried to be good parents, and we were not positive what to do but I will tell you this ... mental health/furry/trans seem to be connected.

After school she moved out. Next thing, I am looking at my husband’s Amazon account and see something that made me wonder... who is buying these items and why? I asked my husband about the purchases while my mother-in-law was in the room and she gasped when she heard my question. She said the items were for someone getting a mastectomy. We knew who that was. I was devastated.

I still don't get how they let someone who is bi-polar have this kind of surgery. My mother-in-law took it upon herself to write Bekah and point out that she was born a girl and that God didn't make mistakes. In response to that letter, Bekah called and screamed at me. She said she never wanted to see or talk to me again. That was five years ago. Elias (yes, she changed her name) now lives in Chicago with her partner. I would give almost anything to talk to my child. Just to say “Hi, how are you?” “I love you and miss you!” but, truth be told, I am okay with the calmness of my life now.

Back on March 31st, the PITT Parents kindly published my article about my daughter, Ilene, and how she tragically took her life while on testosterone. I’m writing now to update you on what has happened since then.

First, I want to thank all of you for your incredible support, your comments, and your thoughtful recommendations. Some of you suggested I share my story on X, and I’m especially grateful to PITT Parents and Miriam Grossman for being the first to post it there, followed by Kara Dansky. At that point, I still hadn’t been active with my X account.

I received an email from Simsbury High School—Ilene’s school—inviting parents to complete a survey. As I read it, I felt a wave of anger and grief rising up in me. That school, which pushed gender ideology behind parents’ backs, was now asking for feedback as if nothing had happened. I wrote my review, pouring my sorrow and frustration into it. But I knew it would likely end up buried in a drawer somewhere. That’s when I decided to go public and post it on X. And that’s how it all started. I’ve been sharing my memories, thoughts, and news ever since on my account: True Teller @TrueTeller2024.

After Ilene’s passing, I reached out to Project Veritas and shared her tragic story. The journalists there were already aware of the transgender pastor we had encountered in our 2023 court case. Initially, in early 2024, they didn’t have capacity to investigate further. But when I followed up again in October they committed to looking into it, and by June their findings were ready.

What they uncovered was deeply disturbing: the pastor had been distributing free binders to minors without parental knowledge. Project Veritas also invited me to share my story on camera. I’m profoundly grateful for their courage and determination to expose those who are endangering vulnerable young lives. You can follow our story here and here.

The report reached thousands and sparked meaningful public conversation.

In response, Reverend Jacob W. Dell of The First Congregational Church of Woodbury publicly condemned the dangerous practice of their congregation’s churches secretly steering kids toward gender ideology. He called for accountability and urged the enforcement of Connecticut’s Constitution. An official letter has since been submitted to Attorney General William Tong requesting further investigation.

A few days ago it was my birthday. I usually don’t celebrate it. Except for last year, Ilene never forgot my birthday. She was always the first to message me in the morning or surprise me in some small way. This year I found myself wishing I had that one candle to blow out and make a wish. But the wish I’d make is one that can never come true.

Several weeks ago I was invited to speak at the Federal Trade Commission’s meeting on “The Dangers of “Gender-Affirming Care” for Minors”. And on what day was the hearing scheduled? My birthday! It felt like more than coincidence. As if Ilene was saying, “Happy birthday, Mom. I’m here. You’re right. I want to be next to you—and when you speak, I am.”

I attended the event and I spoke there. It was a full-day workshop filled with powerful and heartbreaking testimonies. We heard from detransitioners and parents whose children had been forever impacted by gender ideology. I had the opportunity to share Ilene’s story. Lawyers, doctors, therapists, and other professionals spoke as well—presenting hard evidence and urgent truths about the damage this ideology is inflicting on children and families.

My hope is that this event marks a turning point—a shift back toward truth, common sense, and the protection of our children. That we remember: no child is ever born in the wrong body.

I urge everyone to watch the recording of the workshop—and please, share it. The truth needs to be heard.

The FTC and its organizers were phenomenal. Every person involved—speakers, guests, professionals—brought sincerity and conviction. I had hoped to attend the dinner afterward with Miriam Grossman but my flight was scheduled for that evening so I had made peace with missing it. And then—my flight was canceled. Suddenly, I could meet her.

That dinner, shared with others who deeply care and understand the dangers of gender ideology, was incredibly meaningful. And, just when I thought the night couldn’t hold any more emotion, I stepped outside and there was a rainbow in the sky. After the storm, a gentle sign—as if Ilene was saying, “Mom, there’s hope.”

And at that moment I was thinking to myself, they were right at the workshop when they said, “We must keep speaking out. We must name names. We must be bold and unafraid.” If parents unite—if we all raise our voices—then yes, we will win this fight.

Last year, when my daughter was struggling with her identity and I was struggling with my daughter, we had a poetic conversation that has stayed with me.

It started when I shared a memory of her as a kid — a memory that she’d heard me tell many times before:

“When you were little, you loved playing in water, remember? You were a water ___,” I stopped.

“Girl.” I was going to say, girl. “Water girl.” I’d said it a million times in the before days, but now I stopped. And she heard the stop. She knew.

I was sitting on the carpet in her bedroom, my fingers in the cut pile.

“You know, this is hard to navigate,” I said.

“Then don’t navigate. Just put up your sail,” she said.

I played along.

“What is the wind then? Love?” I said.

“Compassion,” she said, “for me and yourself.”

Then she thought some more, and said, “Time. The sail is time.”

I gripped the carpet.

We were hunkered down beneath a storm that battered us both. Who could say how long before it passed?

I remember dreaming of blue skies.

The sail flutters and fills.

(@walkwithmom)

It upsets me so much how the rainbow bright colours have been appropriated and mean absolute trauma and deep anger to me (and many other parents). And all the recent woke BS can be “triggering”.

When my eldest child saw a blue-haired character in a cartoon we were all watching she laughed "woke" out loud! That was weird coming from her. She is either being ironic (because I often make comments like that) or maybe she's seeing the performative woke bullshit for what it is in real life now?

The picture above is me dressed as my hubby one year for Halloween, tandem feeding on the multi-coloured blanket that became a hooded cape in the evenings or in the rain wandering about fields of music.

There's me breastfeeding my middle child inside that colourful sling, sitting next to my eldest. She used to choose her own colourful, interesting clothes. Now she's the antithesis of that, sporting black clothes, boy shorts, sleeveless vests with piercings or chains. Not to mention the flattened boobs and literally hundreds of scars.

Is that their childhood legacy now? Is that going to be their colourful queer altered past? Scars and ideology?

Whatever they will be healing from in their future I hope and pray it's not from medical or surgical harm.

Is the rainbow tainted for you too?

“You are autistic,” the doctor said to my daughter 12 minutes after meeting us for the first time. Our usual doc was on maternity leave. Behind her ill-fitting paper mask, this psychiatrist seemed young. Peppy. A real go-getter.

I blinked, glad my required mask was hiding my slack jaw. 12 minutes in and an autism pronouncement?!

The new doctor followed my gaze, glancing from the clock to the folder in her hands. “My intakes are usually twenty minutes, and we’ve been here almost fifteen. So, I want to ask: I see you are using He/Him pronouns.”

My kid nodded with serious gravitas. She was thrilled. At 13-years-old, her pronouns were a new and interesting aspect of her identity.

Soft Focus, I reminded myself of my personal rule. Keep this gender stuff in soft focus. Breathe. I gripped the edge of my chair with both hands. I blinked again. She just said my daughter’s autistic? I was reeling. Get it together. I smiled at my daughter.

“So, should we begin gender affirming care?”

The doctor wasn’t asking me. She was asking my child, who looked to me, her beautiful eyes wide.

“I…” I stammered. Soft Focus. I did not want to take a stand on this. I did not want to make this an issue between me and my kid. I did not want this to be her special-something-to-rebel-against, or her thing-that-makes-her-a-virtuous-victim.

Soft Focus. I took a deep breath. Crap.

“Yes?” Peppy doctor rounded on me.

“I…think 13 is too young to make life-altering decisions.” I didn’t say, I mean, have you ever met a 13-year-old? They don’t know shit!

As a feral Gen-Xer, I can definitively attest that the latest models of 13-year-olds are less worldly than we were. Yet, even though we could smoke cigarettes, be latchkey kids, and work in restaurants, we were still easily swayed by things like free candy or getting lots of attention. We were children.

You just told this 13-year-old she’s autistic? And now, she’s allowed to self-prescribe?

“I want to go on T!” my daughter stamped her feet. “I want to go on T!”

I closed my eyes. “T” meant the hormone testosterone. How the heck does she know about T?!

“So, you’re refusing gender affirming care?” The doctor said.

I opened my eyes.

The doctor’s pen was poised over the manila folder.

I gulped. “Yes.” Fuck.

She scribbled something in her folder. I imagined it was, “Mom is a terrible monster.”

The doctor turned back to my daughter, who was now playing with a dinosaur-shaped fidget. That kid liked dinosaurs a lot—maybe even more than she liked the idea of synthetic hormones that could sterilize her and destroy her musculoskeletal system. “Does your family respect and use your pronouns?” the doctor asked, an edge to her voice.

I watched with a flicker of anxiety as my sweet, darling, 13-year-old swelled with what must’ve been a delicious taste of power.

Oh man. I thought. I’ve read a lot of Orwell.

She refocused on the dinosaur, kicked her legs, and shrugged. “Yes.”

I exhaled. “Welp. Seems like our time is up,” I said. I stood, grabbed my kid’s hand, and fled.

Until the next appointment.

##

When this doctor said my kid was autistic, it was not a diagnosis. This was an autism pronouncement. Three other doctors had already pronounced her “not autistic.”

I knew that, to get an official autism diagnosis, you need to be evaluated by a neuropsychologist. The process takes hours. We had been on a waitlist for that appointment for three years. We wouldn’t have it for several more months.

In the meantime, I called one of my closest friends to tell him the story of the appointment. He is a brilliant writer and a wonderful father. He hails from a Latin American country, which gives him a fascinating perspective on the American Progressives. We work together in academia, whispering about how nuts things are and wondering how long before we’re both canceled.

We’ve discussed gender disparities. He’d noticed the difference between his wife’s teaching evaluations and his own. The same students who loved him and his foul mouth would say she “cussed too much.” He compared it to how people react to their parenting. Once, when he was tying his son’s shoe. A woman approached him and said, “You’re such an amazing father.”

“I was tying his fucking shoe,” he said. “I’m a man. And so, I’m amazing. If it had been my wife, someone would’ve come over and said, ‘you’re doing it wrong.’”

“You should write about that,” I said. “You’re a man, so people will find your thoughts on sexism amazing.”

I should say here: I am not a social conservative. I’m in a multi-ethnic family. I’m fine with my kid being gay. I’m fine with your kids being gay. A lot of my friends are very religious. I’m also friends with atheists. I also have close, grown-up friends who are transgender. I think it would be un-American for us to limit what grown-ups say or do, as long as what they say and do isn’t hurting anyone else.

“It was a nightmare,” I told my friend about the appointment. “So now, I’m withholding gender-affirming care.”

“Be careful,” my friend said. He wasn’t laughing.

Which was weird. We usually laugh.

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t tell her dad,” he said.

Nine years earlier, I’d had to run away from my daughter’s biological father because he’d beaten me up. I’d taken my daughter, some toys, two trash bags of clothes, and fled to a women’s shelter.

Domestic Violence court assigned my kid’s biological father six weeks of anger management classes. Upon completion, he was deemed “rehabilitated.” He got supervised visitation with our daughter for six months. Eventually, we would share custody. My lawyer and the women’s shelter advocate said I could do nothing to prevent that.

Over the years, I’ve realized that rather than arguing with him, I need to dedicate myself to ensuring my child has a good relationship with her dad.

He wasn’t making it easy. He would never forgive me for leaving, so he was often awful to me. He gave my daughter whatever she wanted. For example, at his house, she had a cell phone and social media (where she’d learned about TERFs and T).

My friend was aware of my ex-husband. He and his wife were good friends to me throughout the long journey to being okay. Now, he said, “People here, in this state, are losing custody of their kids for not using their pronouns.”

“What?” I needed to sit down.

“If your ex hears you aren’t letting her have testosterone, you could lose custody of your daughter.”

##

I could tell my daughter was happy. She was waving her hands. She’d finally been told she was autistic. I know now that this was helping her understand herself. Why she felt lonely, exhausted, different.

Every month, as part of my daughter’s occupational therapy, at the youth health center, they would bring her in, weigh her, take her blood pressure, and ask her if she was suicidal. Then, they would ask her if she needed anxiety medication.

Every month, it scared the shit out of me. I held my breath until she said, “No and No.”

“Why do they ask me this stuff?” she said. “I hate it.”

She was right. You shouldn’t regularly bring up suicide to anyone.

Especially adolescents.

And, you shouldn’t ask children if they need medication. How the hell would they know? After my daughter echoed my thoughts, I went from being confused to annoyed at the youth therapists’ laziness.

I told them that I didn’t want them to give my kid the suicide questionnaire anymore.

The therapist’s eyebrows shot up. “Well,” she said. “We do have a new program. It’s group therapy for trans youth.”

“Huh,” I said. “Who runs it?”

“I will be running it with Dan,” she said.

Dan with the neck tattoo? I thought. Like a mean old lady. What was going on with me? I used to be in a punk rock band. I played bass. I shredded. Now I’m tsk-tsking at tats? But also, why did all these therapists have neck tattoos? This lady had one, too.

Group therapy for trans youth. With these clowns. It seemed like a bad idea. The specter of my ex-husband flitted through my mind. You could lose custody if he finds out you’re withholding gender affirming care.

I remembered being 13 years old. I cut all my hair off and wore my dad’s clothes because I didn’t want attention from men. I was tall and pretty, and (predatory) adult men became interested in me when I was 12.

I was already afraid of men. Men had hurt me. Also, men seemed to have it easier. They had all the power.

Add to that, I was getting a whole new body at a time when I was the most self-conscious that I would EVER be. I wasn’t used to my body; I had boobs and curves, and I needed some time to get used to that. My dad was eight inches taller than me, so his shirts felt like cozy flannel tents—with pockets.

I HATED the feel of tween girl clothes. The textures were terrible. Everything else felt wrong, too. The lights were too bright; the school was too loud. It had been hard when I was younger, but at 13, I could barely function.

Note: I wouldn’t find out I was autistic until I was 49 years old.

The counselor was waiting for me to tell her if my child would go to the group therapy for trans kids. Are you withholding gender affirming care? The room was closing in on me.

“When does the trans youth group meet?” I asked, stalling.

“It will be Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11 am.”

“During the school day?” I asked. When you get your kid from middle school in the middle of the day, it takes about 30 minutes for them to walk as slowly as possible to the office. We’d have to leave early enough to drive to this center. So, that’s an hour. Plus, 90 minutes of trans group therapy. Then, 30 minutes to drive back to school, and walk back to class as slowly as possible. “So that would be missing six hours of school a week.”

“We feel it’s important to prioritize children’s health,” the counselor said. The tattoo on her neck was a stalk of flowering bamboo. The fluorescent lights were getting painful. “Don’t you?”

You don’t prioritize your daughter’s health. My adrenaline started spiking. “Perhaps if you wanted to prioritize children’s health, you would have weekend sessions.” Shit. I was stressed. The words were out of my mouth before I could make them softer.

The counselor blinked. She made a note. I assumed it was, Horrible mother.

“I will let you know,” I said, silently thanking all creation that my ex-husband refused to participate in these appointments. His total disengagement was a blessing.

I never took my daughter to youth trans group therapy.

I was too scared of how much the health center talked about suicide. I’d lost a friend to suicide as a teenager. What if there were suicidal kids at the therapy? Those ideas are so contagious. Also, I knew from experience that group therapy, when not moderated properly, could cause trauma.

I did not trust these therapists to be proper moderators.

I didn’t know how dangerous that situation was until a couple of years later. One of my closest friends had agreed to let her daughter go to the trans youth group therapy. I’ve known her daughter, K., since she was 18 months old. Like my own daughter, K. was an undiagnosed autistic girl.

K. made a friend at the group therapy. A trans girl [a boy].

This trans girl sexually assaulted K., in her home. There was a police investigation, and we found out that this trans girl had assaulted more than one trans boy [to be clear: the boy had assaulted multiple girls].

The group therapy had been a perfect hunting ground for a predator.

##

I work with kids of all ages. For 30 years, I’ve taught them art.

Over the years, while working with thousands of kids and reading hundreds of books about child development, I have learned that teenagers explore different versions of themselves. They might engage in something outlandish, like shoplifting, to see if they like the stealing version of themselves, or develop a keen interest in bright clothing before switching to dark attire. They might be emo or athletic, an artist or an equestrian. These changes can happen within the same week or even the same day. This exploration is a crucial part of how they become individuals, testing the boundaries of what’s possible. They examine how each possibility feels to discover who they truly are.

As part of this process, they need to rebel against the people they’ve relied on to care for them. They must learn to be less dependent, and this sparks conflicts with their imperfect parents.

And so, you shouldn’t take any teenager’s behavior personally.

Even if they are yelling, “This is about you, Mom! You! You should take this personally!” It’s not about you. And if you find yourself actually arguing with a 13-year-old, you’ve already lost.

Whatever hard lines you decide to enforce, carry the risk of becoming your kids’ chosen form of rebellion. So, choose wisely. It’s not about them obeying you; they must be true to themselves. We want to help our children make decisions aligned with our family’s core values while ensuring they don’t hurt others or themselves.

Structure and boundaries are important, especially for neurodivergent kids. They need to know what to expect and where they stand. Once you set those rules, you must stick to them. However, you will need other adults, whom your teenager isn’t biologically programmed to rebel against, to help reinforce those limits—people like aunts, uncles, coaches, and teachers.

If these other adults actively undermine you, you’re screwed.

As far as the child and adolescent health providers went, I knew I was screwed. I didn’t expect the schools to fail me, too.

Back in 2021, every student in my middle school art class used changed pronouns, except for two boys. My sister, who has an MA in child development, runs a tutoring business and works with thousands of kids, mentioned that 75% of the teens she worked with were using new pronouns.

I looked, but it seemed like no one was studying this. Now, we have more data. For example, here is a chart of trans identification by birth year:

“Among young adults, identifying as transgender gender non-conforming increased 1260% (a factor of 13.6) between 2014 and 2023, identifying as a transgender man increased 309% (quadrupling), and identifying as a transgender woman increased 204% (tripling).”

Source:

Generation Tech

Transgender identity: How much has it increased?

Over the past few years, many have speculated that more young people now identify as transgender…

Read more

2 years ago · 90 likes · 2 comments · Jean M. Twenge

The abstract of a paper published in 2024: “An increasing number of US young adults self-identified as transgender between 2014 and 2022. Self-identifying as transgender nearly quintupled among 18- to 24-year-olds and quadrupled among 25- to 34-year-olds, but either declined or did not change significantly among those older than 35. By 2022, 2.78% of 18- to 24-year-old adults self-identified as transgender, up from 0.59% in 2014. The increase was driven by those identifying as transgender men or gender non-conforming; identification as a transgender woman did not change significantly among young adults and declined significantly among all adults. The increase in self-identifying as transgender was larger among White individuals than among Black or Hispanic individuals. Up to 2021, the increase was similar in states whose electoral college voted Democrat (“blue”) or Republican (“red”) in 2016, suggesting a nationwide shift.”

Source: Twenge, J.M., Wells, B.E., Le, J. et al. Increases in Self-identifying as Transgender Among US Adults, 2014–2022. Sex Res Soc Policy 22, 755–773 (2025). https://doi.org/10.1007/s13178-024-01001-7 Twenge, J.M., Wells, B.E., Le, J. et al. Increases in Self-identifying as Transgender Among US Adults, 2014–2022. Sex Res Soc Policy 22, 755–773 (2025). https://doi.org/10.1007/s13178-024-01001-7

Were all the young lesbians becoming trans men?

##

“It’s just that I don’t feel like a girl,” my daughter said. “I don’t feel like what a girl is supposed to be.”

It was bedtime, and I was lying on the floor next to her bed. The time of night we’d spent rocking, singing, and nursing when she was little had become a time for her to talk quietly with me.

“I don’t either,” I said. “I never have.”

“So will you change your pronouns, too?”

“No,” I said.

“Why not?”

“No one cares what my pronouns are,” I said. Middle-aged women are invisible, except to each other.

“Oh, yeah,” she said.

“But also, I don’t think any woman feels like a stereotype.” I was hopeful as I said this.

“Yeah, but you don’t understand,” she was shutting down. I sensed I’d entered a trap. It would take another year until I realized what it was.

I sounded like a TERF. A trans-excluding radical feminist.

The trans activists love-bombing kids online warned them about TERFs. But I didn’t know any of that, yet.

“You don’t understand GENDER. Some things give so much GENDER.”

“Ok,” I said. “Sorry.”

She shifted in bed. We had just completed reading the Harry Potter series together for the second time. The first time we read it, she’d said, “I hope someday I write something like this.” My sweet kid, who’d had multiple Harry Potter birthday parties, now disavowed JK Rowling.

That night, my child said her name was Amelia. A few days later, she called herself something else (I can’t remember.) She then told us she was pansexual. Then, Demisexual. Followed by Asexual. She was Gender Fluid. She was Polyamorous. Gross. I hoped she didn’t really know what that meant.

A few days later, she said she was named Fay. Fay (He, Him).

She started telling people she used different pronouns—an ever-changing kaleidoscope of pronouns: (he/him, they/them, it/its, crow/crows, bee/bees—why is this all conjugated singular/plural like I’m back in Latin class?!)

I understood that she was trying out different versions of herself.

Plus, we were in a blue state during the pandemic. We’d just locked all these kids inside for 18 months and stuck them in masks for another six. We’d failed them.

The kids had a lot to process.

I decided, Soft Focus. Let the names change.

But, I couldn’t bring myself to use the pronouns. I began to speak about my kid in the third person. I’d remarried when my daughter was 5. My very sweet husband kept forgetting the new names and getting shrieked at.

Soft focus. I told him. Let it keep changing. Let’s not die on this mountain.

And then, I logged into the school communication system. My daughter, who was in eighth grade, had a man’s name and he/him pronouns.

I was stunned.

I gently asked my daughter about it, and she told me what had happened. A staff member (an aide of some kind) noticed my daughter had changed her name on the paper name tag the kids put on their desks. They were told to write the name and pronouns they preferred.

The staff member had approached my kid and asked her if she wanted to change her name and pronouns in the school system. My daughter had agreed.

So, they did.

Legally, in our state, they didn’t have to tell me.

They’d also made a note not to tell my daughter’s biological father about this change, at her request.

So, now, they’d made me part of keeping a profound secret from him.

I imagined how I’d feel if it were the other way around. If the school were keeping a secret from me, and my ex-husband knew about it.

I felt terrible.

I told my daughter that this wasn’t right. That we needed to find a way to be honest.

Eventually, she told him, after I prepared him for it.

He took it well.

Once the school changed my child’s name and gender permanently in the system without telling me, she stopped changing her name. She stopped changing her pronouns, too. It was like they’d committed her to being a trans man.

Three years later, I’d enrolled my daughter at the local community college for dual enrollment. College classes were quieter and easier than being in high school all day.

The high school principal called me to ask about the paperwork. “Did you change your child’s name and gender on the college forms?” she asked.

“I didn’t fill them out,” I said. “My child did. Why?”

“Your child put their birth name and female gender. I just wanted to see if I should change it back to the new name and gender.”

“This is why I wish you guys hadn’t changed it in the first place,” I said. “I was trying to keep that stuff in soft focus.”

“I totally agree with you,” the school principal said. “Soft focus.”

Silence and fear of uncomfortable truths have enabled harm to my children. They should never have been taught that sex and gender are on a spectrum and that biological sex is irrelevant. It has negatively affected our lives. Restoring truth and reality would be a start on the road to recovery.

I am shocked at how easy it is for my 16 year old daughter to receive a driving licence in the mail addressed to Mr “Changed Name”. This name change was processed by the Justice of Peace at Glasgow Sheriff Court. I have still to find out if the document had Mr or Miss on it.

My daughter does not have a Gender Recognition Certificate (GRC) but has now managed to get stronger supporting documentary evidence in the form of a licence. A driving licence is a core form of identification which is instantly accepted without question. It can therefore be used to easily change other aspects of her life to male, bypassing obtaining a GRC and at age 16. She has already changed her bank card to Mr and will, no doubt, be changing her passport soon.

She went to a Justice of Peace who signed a document she printed from a trans website stating she now has a new name, but thankfully the surname is the same. What is the point of a GRC if she can do this at 16? I noticed she had put Mr on this document and I said I don't think you can do that. I hope and pray the JoP said the same thing. 🤷‍♀️

Instead of going through the process of a GRC, the DVLA (Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency) has bypassed the important built-in safeguards and avoids any medical diagnosis, opinion or report and any time delay or 'lived in' time. I am devastated that this is the law.

Also, it is dangerous that this process circumvents the UK Equality Act and recent UK Supreme Court decision by changing a Miss to a Mr with no oversight whatsoever.

This is harmful for my daughter and, in bypassing every societal protection and the Supreme Court's ruling, can be harmful for society.

She thinks that changing all these titles and her name will make her a 16-year-old man. This is a potentially harmful, scary, life-altering path enabled by lax policies within Government departments. It is also worrying and surprising that it has been so easy for her to do.

How is this sex deception allowed at age 16, especially given the new Supreme Court ruling? Also given the recent CASS Report about the dangers of social transition and the new guidelines being put in place to over 18-year-olds only? There can hardly be a stronger document of social transition than such an easily obtained change to a driving license.

I spent my late teens into my late 30s chasing a desired relationship with my father. He once told me that he couldn’t understand why I wanted a relationship with him. It was after this conversation that I asked myself the same question: Why did I want a relationship (so badly) with a man who couldn’t understand why his daughter would want a relationship with him? It helped me minimize the internal urge to know the man who was my father. I always had a deep connection with my dad. I was his favorite. I knew it. My siblings new it. He knew it. Everyone knew it. This connection seemed to break when I became a teenager. Most likely when I started liking boys, had thoughts of my own, and could voice my own opinions. I can see now how that might have been hard for him, but as a teenager and young adult, I could not understand his rejection. As a young mom, it was even harder to understand why a parent wouldn’t want to know their kid - wouldn’t want a relationship with them.

Now, I am chasing a relationship with a daughter who doesn’t want a relationship with her parents. I’m the parent so desirous of a relationship with their adult child. A complete opposite of how my dad was with me. And my child doesn’t want the relationship; a complete opposite of how I was. I struggle with the realization that I’m the one who wants these relationships. That is part of who I am. It’s not a stranger who I meet and want to befriend. It is with those that share my DNA, my looks and tastes. I’m not a “You’re dead to me!” type of person. I can’t seem to shut off the calling inside me to have deep connection with them. I wish I could.

My father died in 2016, the year after my daughter “came out” as gay. The possibility of a relationship with him is now gone. I don’t have to try. I can’t hope for it to be different.

My daughter, however, dies slowly. She lives among the dead in a death culture. To me, she keeps dying repeatedly. Each new event or announcement feels like a death. I lose my child over and over again. She reconnects and we have a fraction of her until the next situation hits the fan and then she’s dead again. Our hearts ripped wide open with a cutting ache. But we have a tinge of hope that she’ll come back to life — only to be ripped away again. How much can a heart endure!?

As she goes deeper into medicalized trans we are losing her for longer periods of time. As she is harming herself, we feel more and more separated from her. She won’t answer texts. She won’t take our calls. She ghosts us because she is a ghost. There is very little of “her” left, as she and her new friends work to erase her. This is the mandate of the death cult that is trans ideology. They are like the walking dead with dead-names, rewriting their past, and insistence of new pronouns. This initiates them into the cult where they no longer make wise decisions using logic or reason.

There is a sinister agent at play, luring a generation away from their families. It offers a freedom that it can’t deliver. It’s a spiritual battle being waged in the unseen realm. We see only the physical world results, which make no sense in our present reality. Things that are evil are called good. Harm is helpful, right is wrong, and a parent’s love is now toxic. This is the real-world evidence of an unseen evil.

Thankfully, I know she is not dead, even when it feels like it. As a believer in Jesus Christ, I have a powerful hope for the chain-breaking, freedom-fighting that is taking place for my daughter. My job is to stand firm in the Word of God.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.
Ephesians 6:10-18 NIV

Today is another of those bad days.

It's been four years since it all began. My daughter has a beard, a deep voice, a sunken, scarred chest and a body covered in hair. And that is just the part I can see. I have nightmares imagining the state of her internal organs.

We have an on-off relationship. If I slip up and say something unacceptable to her, she stops talking to me for months. I have to compromise all the time to keep our connection.

I am tired. So, so tired. I wish I could have a break from all of it, but this is my life. There is no way out.

My YouTube home page is filled with videos of detransitioners, whistle blowers, medical doctors, therapists etc. I feel overloaded and yet I can't stop listening to them.

My email is full of articles and sub stacks from Genspect, Bernard Lane, Sex matters, LGB Alliance and hundreds of others that I can't stop reading.

I have written many articles and letters to newspapers and magazines, most of which go unpublished, and yet I can't stop writing.

I argue on Facebook and post articles in response to all the pro-trans ideology propaganda even though it feels pointless.

Very few of my family and friends support me. They are either aggressively pro-trans or they are deathly silent.

Some friends try to convince me to accept my new 'son' and to use the pronouns she wants. I see red but I am too tired to argue any more. If another person asks, 'Why can't you just accept it and move on?' I will scream.

My family has been torn apart. My marriage is suffering from the fallout. My husband won't talk about it. He gets angry when I cry. My younger daughter rolls her eyes in frustration when I tell her about the effects of testosterone or about the misogyny and homophobia of trans activism.

Two of my three sisters get angry, tearful and defensive when I show them any articles that challenge the 'gender affirmative care’ model. They loudly and proudly refer to my daughter as 'him'.

My mother is old and frail. She wants a relationship with her granddaughter so she acquiesces and will accept her as a 'him.' She is mainly concerned about her own health and about the children of Gaza.

Other extended family members fall down in worship of my daughter because she is so 'brave' and 'authentic'. It makes me want to vomit.

Even the very few who are supportive are tired and have their own difficulties in life. I can't keep troubling them with my grief.

I have tried numerous therapists and walked out in disgust because they have all been ideologically captured.

I've tried Churches but they either fully endorse 'gender affirming' care and men in women's spaces, or they are aggressively anti-gay.

I've tried focusing on other issues: finding a cause to throw myself into, but I can't escape from the cause that is central to my life. And it's hard to find a group in which I don't first have to announce my pronouns.

I've tried escaping into novels and Netflix, but the art world has been so captured that I have to deal with words like ‘cis’ gendered in every modern novel I read or see movies that change originally gay characters into trans characters.

I've tried writing my own stories, songs, poetry and articles but I have lost the inspiration.

My house is a mess. I am not inspired to fix anything.

I tried gardening but I lost interest.

I love my teaching job but on days like today, I want to quit.

Even when the good news of the UK Supreme Court win for women came through, I wanted to celebrate with someone - but no one around me was interested or even knew about it. It was hardly mentioned in South African media.

So, today has been a bad day. I know we all have them and that I am not alone, but on these kinds of days, that doesn’t even help. It feels impossible to go on. I know there are parents who have been in this for ten or more years. I don't know how they cope! Some have risen above the tragedy and learnt to live positive and beautiful lives. Today, I can't rise above it, and I feel a complete failure.

But tomorrow is another day…

It is a public holiday. I will go for an early morning run. The endorphins will lift my spirit and I will achieve something besides wallowing in my dark hole. Later, I will meet a friend for a coffee in the park and we will enjoy the warmth of the sun and the beautiful red and gold autumn leaves drifting around us. I will phone my older sister who is always there to support me through my tears. I will avoid YouTube and instead, listen to some haunting cello music. And perhaps I will buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate the UK Supreme Court win, even if I do it alone!

Somehow, with tiny fragments of support, beauty and hope, we survive these bad days and life goes on.

Struggling South African mom

I’m the father of a large family of six girls and three boys. Their ages span from 18 to 36 years old. My daughters began exploring the LGBTQIA’s community about seven years ago. They were introduced to this stuff through college and, of course, social media.

About eight years ago, my youngest daughter told my wife and I that she thought she wasn’t straight. She was young enough at the time that we thought this would peter out with time and maturity. However, her sisters began supporting her in this. My wife and I were bewildered. We didn’t want to do anything that would destroy our relationship with our children, but neither did we want to encourage it.

We had many late night talks. Then, our youngest daughter began saying that she wanted to kill herself. So, we began making sure someone was always with her. I asked her to sign a note promising that if she ever made a plan to harm herself she would first contact me. And we got her on meds.

When she was 18 years old, she and two of her siblings contacted my wife and me saying they wanted a meeting with us. At this meeting my youngest daughter, with the support of her siblings, began detailing how she had never felt loved or safe in our home because we had never accepted or loved the real person that she was.

This meeting felt like a coup. She was separating herself emotionally from us and her siblings who were supporting her were now her surrogate parents. At this time, she was living with her oldest sibling because I couldn’t agree with how she wanted to handle her gender desires.

Fast forward eight years. All discussions of gender issues are now off limits with our daughters and youngest son, who believes he is gay. All discussions of conservative values are off limits. Our youngest daughter has cut contact with me and my wife for four years now.

She has had lots of therapy. The therapist didn’t direct her towards emotional and mental health. Instead our daughter received “gender affirming care”. I just found out that she had her surgery to remove her breasts. I’m past devastated. I can’t stop crying. I know that neither she nor her siblings had the funds to pay for this. Who did? Medicare?

I’m wondering if there will ever be enough support in the U.S. among parents who have been devastated this way to sue the government healthcare systems that pay for this butchery. The policy setting and governing systems that encourage universities to promote gender ideology. The psychology governing bodies that set policies on how psychologists and therapists counsel troubled young people. The healthcare systems that make a place for doctors to butcher our children and perform “sex change” surgery. These are the systems that need to be stopped and held accountable for what they have done.

My daughter first came out as lesbian in the winter of sixth grade, 2019. Always having a close relationship, we talked about being open and kind to herself. That sexuality, especially in girls, can fluctuate. I talked about my own experiences in same-sex attraction, relationships with girls, and my best friend's experience of being lesbian when we met in college (though my daughter had only known her to be heterosexual). I advised her to not openly share at school. At her young age, I worried some kids, and especially parents, might not understand. I feared she would be alienated from her friends, from Girl Scouts, from sleepovers, and just girl time in general. She didn't listen...she shared, her bravery was celebrated, and all that I feared came true. Her troop suddenly "disbanded", "how odd", I thought. She was no longer invited to the sleepovers; her friends ignored her at the winter dance.

Then came the COVID lockdowns. Endless hours online. Parents naive to the access her school-issued laptop provided. Isolated from peers physically, and recently socially isolated. That spring she shifted to "demi-girl", "demi-boy", then "trans" by the summer of 2020. No longer did we have that great open relationship. Any discussion was met with name calling and slamming doors. She feared going out in public. Being "misgendered" would send her into a spiral. She would panic when people looked at her. I tried to tell her, "You have tried it on, it is not fitting. You were never unhappy until this identity.” She said she was only unhappy because the world didn't see her as a boy. I persisted and tried to show her the cracks in her thinking. More slamming doors.

She now was self-imposing isolation from her family. Her new online family was her support. We learned about what was happening online when she asked to go to a Renaissance festival in a nearby town. We went early in the day. It was a COIVD year so it was not busy. We allowed our kids 30 minutes to walk together while my husband and I enjoyed a show. When we met at the designated place and time, our kids were with strangers - older strangers. A female appearing to be a late teen (16? 17?) and a male...with a beard (21? 22?). My heart sank and we left immediately. We asked questions and found they were her "online friends" she was meeting there. They lived two states away!!

In that moment everything changed. This was when I learned everything I could about trans ideology, when I locked down the internet, and decided she needed to be in-person for school. We found a small Montessori school with an adolescent class that was in person. The socialization was helpful but strained. Her isolated time and confused identity made it difficult for the other kids to navigate. She started to self-harm. She did make progress through the year. But they told us they were going to need to close their adolescent program for the following year. She went back to local public school for eight grade. Everything got worse. She was in a bubble of trans-identified girls. They all hated their parents. They all used mental health issues as an identity. Those outside the gender cult were name calling, threatening, saying "you should kill yourself". So she tried. Therapy wasn't working. School wasn't helpful. They affirmed. They also didn't take the threats as seriously as they should have.

In ninth grade, she started to improve. But I started to hear a clock ticking. Only four more years till she can transition without my consent. She was in a relationship with another trans-identified girl. They seemed supportive of each other. Though I had my worries they were enabling each other's poor mental health. And eventually, my daughter had to go in-patient, partial hospitalization, and intensive outpatient. We were terrified. But we encountered amazing mental health professionals in this facility. They were very supportive of us and our family counseling was effective. Our relationship (especially mine) with our daughter began to improve. The doctors said they would not officially diagnose gender dysphoria, nor would they refer to an endocrinologist or gender clinic. Such a relief! Within a month of her completion of higher level mental health services, her girlfriend broke up with her and she had a significant self harm event. She also became anorexic. She was working with a therapist we liked, but had an extremely challenging scheduling system (seems you just can't win). But the therapy was effective.

At the start of tenth grade, the ex-girlfriend had now desisted and was dating a boy. She also accused my daughter of "sexual assault" very loudly at school. The school had to escalate to the police. And we had some very intense meetings with local police and her school. The police eventually notified us that they could not find any evidence of a crime. Relief. The school also was very supportive in taking such false claims seriously. They even disclosed that they have needed to meet with several students who claimed sexual assault, sexual harassment, and rape-culture. When what these kids really experienced was flirting. But my daughter's mental health was at a new low. She was being safe but it was awful. She was talking to me more. Our relationship was improving but I feared losing her. The clock was also starting to tick louder. She was now 15 years only - only three years until she was free to make her own choices on gender. But I knew I had to address her mental health issues before the identity talks could continue. Therapy was so focused on navigating the social issues, the rumors, teasing, and name calling after the sexual assault allegation. We took a new strategy. Potentially risky. We discussed it with her therapist and her pediatrician. Neither had personal experience but were supportive. We consulted a ketamine therapy clinic with experience with adolescents. I brought my daughter to the clinic for consultation and a tour. I loved the clinic, a nearly all-female team, they were supportive and encouraging and warm. She began treatments. It was a two-hour drive for us, each way. Making treatment days long. It started with treatments three times a week for two weeks. We did this over winter break. Then two times a week for a week. Then once a week for a month. Then every other week and eventually hoping to achieve an as-needed maintenance schedule.

After her first treatment, the next morning she got up and said, "I think that was the first restful night of sleep I have ever had". After two weeks, she suddenly agreed to go on outings again. Even the most basic of things like a Saturday trip to Ikea or breakfast in a restaurant were nearly impossible for years. Unfortunately, with the time investment needed, we were struggling to keep up with her regular therapist and that provider relationship ended. But my daughter was doing better! Her grades were improving, she was becoming more involved in school activities (drama tech crew), being more social with friends, spending more time with her family, and even started working at a local movie theater. By spring we were on ketamine maintenance. She went the entire summer with no self-harm, working, being with friends, and enjoying a family vacation.

This past fall, she started 11th grade. She had anxiety about returning to school and dealing with "the ops" (as the teen lingo calls the opposition). She requested a ketamine appointment, her first one in five months. I, of course, agreed. I fully believe it was the Fall ketamine appointment that got her through the winter. Winter has always been the hardest time for her. Her grades tend to slide, she misses school, she becomes depressed and withdrawn. This year was different. Her grades have been great (two AP classes this year). She had blue days, but nothing she couldn't overcome. She also went off her SSRI which she has been on since seventh grade. And she is in a relationship with a close male friend. I have contributed to PITT regarding my questions about this relationship and what this might mean for desistance (I can dream, right?). I am still too afraid to ask her about details of her identity. She also is talking about her future. Talking about college and career interests.

The clock ticks on. She is now 16. Only one more year of high school and two years left until she is (legally) an adult. But with the Trump executive order, maybe we get an extra year. Maybe I don't have to worry about her making a permanent change until she is 19. With her mental health improving (there are still challenges) I hope I can begin to navigate the identity questions. Our relationship has also been amazing. She comes to me with her problems, we make shared decisions, she is affectionate, and I dare to say I am happy for the first time in years.

But we are still in a race. Will she see the light before she makes life-altering decisions to medically transition?

Ilene was an extraordinary child. Despite being on the autism spectrum, she excelled in many areas. She was a brilliant student, an accomplished musician who played five instruments, a polyglot, speaking four languages, and a dedicated athlete with double black belts in Tang Soo Do. She lost her father to cancer when she was only 12 years old. Around this time, I began noticing scars from self-harm, which I immediately addressed with her pediatrician. The doctor recommended getting a dog and, after we brought Ginger into our lives, the self-harming stopped.

The pandemic changed everything. Like many teenagers, Ilene spent more time online and, during that time, she declared that she was bisexual, then a lesbian, then non-binary, and eventually, in 2021, my 16-year-old girly girl, out of blue, decided she was transgender. At the time, I didn't fully understand what being transgender meant and the information I found online seemed to support affirmation as the only correct approach. In a panic, afraid of losing my daughter, I agreed to use male pronouns and helped her legally change her name to Raven.

Months later, after learning more about the potential dangers of hormone therapy and the irreversible effects of social transitioning, I realized I had made a huge mistake by affirming her transition. I had a difficult conversation with her, letting her know that I could no longer support the trans identity. She had always disliked her birth name, so I agreed that she could keep her new name, but I refused to go any further. She cried but eventually agreed. I made sure she knew that she would no longer be allowed to wear male clothing, but she could still dress in a gender-neutral way. I showed her documentaries about the side effects of hormones and surgery, hoping to give her a broader perspective.

In 2023 Ilene was accepted to Rider University with a full tuition scholarship majoring in actuarial science. I was overjoyed at her success and supported her however I could, driving to New Jersey from Connecticut whenever needed despite poor weather conditions.

Due to her official diagnosis of depression and anxiety she was allowed to bring her dog to campus for emotional support, but after a noise complaint, the university insisted the dog be removed.

We had an agreement that she would focus on her studies and avoid getting caught up in any further discussions about gender identity, and I would cover her food and housing costs.

However, when I visited her during a family day at Rider University, I was devastated by how entrenched she had become in gender ideology. She barely acknowledged me and seemed completely consumed by her new identity. I realized that I no longer had any influence over her, and I told her that if she continued down this path, she would need to support herself financially. She posted about it on TikTok, where her friends encouraged her to cut me off.

A few days later, I received a call from the Department of Children and Families (DCF). A transgender pastor at Hartford Metropolitan Church in Connecticut, Aaron Miller, who also worked at a gender clinic, filed a complaint against me for being "abusive " toward my "son" for not affirming his gender identity. Later on, I would discover it was most probably the therapist Ilene saw at the Pride center in New Jersey who had introduced her to this "kindhearted" pastor.

I had to hire a lawyer to defend myself, and the case was dismissed when it became clear that there was no case to pursue. Despite that, the influence of these professionals on my daughter was undeniable, and I was left feeling helpless.

Though our relationship was strained, the very next day I drove to New Jersey to offer to co-sign a student loan for her and wish her happy 18th birthday, but she refused to see me. She said she didn't feel safe around me and security guards made me leave the campus. After that, I stopped contacting her directly, but I still followed her on social media, hoping to track how she was doing. I saw that she had a boyfriend and that she continued to see a psychiatrist.

Now, when going through her paperwork that I finally got access to, I discovered, besides all her friends, every adult in her life seemed to have been affirming her transition behind my back for the last several years. Her high school teachers and her Tang Soo Do coaches, college professors, pastor and even therapists fully endorsed her transgender identity. Imagine, how a confused teen with ASD would react if everyone affirmed her except her mom, who had been the closest person to her before this madness. Mom would become an "enemy", wouldn't she?

Overall, my daughter saw two therapists: one in Connecticut before she left for Rider University and another one at Pride Center in New Jersey. And neither of them asked her the very simple questions: Why did you decide you are a boy? What else is going on in your life? Could social contagion be a factor? Do you understand the medical ramifications? Do you understand some changes are irreversible? The lack of scrutiny in their assessments is deeply concerning. Instead, the therapist from Pride center sent a referral letter to endocrinologist in Connecticut.

In June 2024, I received a notification from CVS that testosterone had been prescribed to her. I immediately cut her off my insurance, but it was too late. I knew that testosterone could exacerbate depression and lead to a greater risk of suicidal ideation. I was terrified.

Her very first visit at the endocrinologist was marked as a regular PCP visit. Nevertheless, the chart mentioned only history of depression and anxiety. Nothing about autism spectrum or self harm, nor were the scars on her arms and thighs noted. Apparently, the nurse practitioner did not examine my daughter, as she was supposed to. Instead, she prescribed her first dose of testosterone. On the second visit the dosage was increased.

In her referral letter to the surgical center, endocrinologist stated Ilene dreamt of being a boy since she was eight years old. I'm stunned how these professionals write letters like these just because an eighteen-year-old confused girl told them so. I can prove easily that my daughter was very proud to be a girl until at least age fifteen.

According to police report, Ilene's friends noticed the increase of depression in my daughter's behavior within several months of her first dose of “T” and they were "very concerned" about her difficulties with transition. However, nobody addressed that issue to the huge DEI department at Rider University.

On October 10th, her boyfriend broke up with her, and on October 14th, my daughter was found dead after she consumed too much Benadryl. She had been lying in her dorm room for four days while the university celebrated National Coming Out Weekend. How "valuable " was my daughter if nobody noticed her absence at such an important Pride event? How could that be possible? Is this really the standard of care for students, particularly those who are so vulnerable? Furthermore, Ilene was placed in a male-only dorm despite being a female student. How legitimate is it for a university to allow a young girl to be housed in a male dorm, especially given her mental health history and the fact that she was on hormones? These questions remain unanswered, and I am left wondering whether the university prioritized political correctness and ideology over the well-being of its students.

Almost three months later after my daughter's death the security guards "miraculously" found a death note the police department failed to find before. The note said:

I just want to make one thing clear: I didn't do this because I am on Testosterone. I don't want my death to be used as a reason to be transphobic. I did this because of all the trauma my mom has caused me. I've turned into a person I completely dislike, and no one believes I can get better, not even the person I love most. I am sorry. I've lost faith.

Raven (he/him/his)

This note shatters my heart. My daughter was in so much pain, feeling as though she was abandoned by the person who loved her most. The tragic irony is that my refusal to affirm her belief in being born in the wrong body, an action that came from a place of love and concern for her well-being, was considered traumatic or abusive by some. In the world we live in now, it seems that a mother's love, her desire to protect and preserve the mental health of her child, is viewed as harmful if it doesn't align with the current narrative. It sounds like the refusal to affirm an identity that might not be fully understood is considered more harmful than the actual irreversible decisions that young people are encouraged to make in the name of affirmation.

There were more reasons for Ilene to take her life much earlier, for example, in the spring of 2024 as she faced immense challenges: no money, no access to testosterone, no prospect of top surgery, and even a temporary breakup with her boyfriend. Despite all of this, she did not take her life back then, even though she was still grappling with the so-called trauma attributed to me.

Fast forward to October 2024, her circumstances had improved significantly: yes, her boyfriend broke up with her again, but she was living in a male dorm just the way she wanted, had $9,000 in her bank account, she had a job, Medicaid approval, access to testosterone, and top surgery scheduled for December 23rd. Yet, in this improved scenario, she tragically carried out her suicidal ideation.

The key difference? Testosterone. It played a significant role in worsening her depression, ultimately pushing her to take this irreversible step.

My daughter's death is not an isolated case. Besides Ilene, I know of two other girls, of the same age, who were on hormones and took their lives in the same period. It is clear to me that the affirmation of trans identity can have catastrophic results. In Ilene's case, she was not just another case of a teenager going through typical teenage turmoil. She was a young girl who was never fully allowed to explore her identity without external pressure, who was given hormones that exacerbated her depression, and who, in her most vulnerable moments, was left with little support.

As I review the statistics, they are alarming. According to UNICEF, the suicide rate for teens aged 15-19 in Azerbaijan, where I am originally from, is 5 per 100,000 people. In contrast, the suicide rate in the United States for the same age group has tripled. What is it that makes the suicide rate so much higher in the U.S.? Could it be the way we are allowing confused adolescents to be pressured into irreversible medical procedures? Could it be that the gender-affirming care model, which is often pushed onto vulnerable kids, is exacerbating their mental health struggles, rather than addressing the root causes?

I am raising concerns about current psychotherapy standards for adolescents with gender dysphoria. Are psychotherapists affirming new gender identities immediately, or encouraging thorough exploration of underlying feelings before conclusions are made?

Could the protocols be revised for prescribing treatments like testosterone to adolescents, especially when these drugs are not FDA-approved for such use? Safeguards should ensure decisions are based on comprehensive evaluations of patients' mental and medical histories.

Additionally, while a federal bill was signed affirming the existence of only two biological sexes and restricting biological males from women's sports, implementation in my state's schools appears lacking.

I'm also concerned about how some college DEI programs promote gender ideology, such as allowing females in male-only dorms, potentially harming students' mental health.

I would also like to draw attention to Pastor Aaron Miller, a transgender man who helped file a DCF complaint against me so that Ilene could receive state assistance. From what I understand, this is not the first queer pastor working for both a church and a gender clinic who has stepped in to "help" a confused teen.

I am left wondering how many more teens this individual has influenced and what is happening within certain churches displaying transgender flags and supporting these ideologies. I cannot recall any statement in the Bible suggesting that God would agree with the idea that children are born in the wrong bodies.

Also, several months before Ilene took her life, there was a disturbing post of hers on Tik Tok about movie she watched: I Saw the TV Glow. It is a 2024 American psychological horror drama film written and directed by Jane Schoenbrun. It shows two troubled high school students whose connection to their favorite television show drives them to question their reality and identities. This kind of movie could potentially influence any confused teen to make the wrong irreversible choice to end life.

Last, but not least, I wanted to mention I am concerned about the easy access to over-the-counter drugs like Benadryl. There appears to be no system for auditing the number of boxes purchased by individuals. This is especially alarming given the recent Benadryl challenge trend on TikTok, which has tragically resulted in several teen deaths. With rising mental health challenges across the U.S., tighter control and monitoring of these drugs are crucial to preventing misuse and protecting vulnerable people.

My daughter is gone, but her story must be heard. I hope that by sharing it, I can help save other children from the tragic fate that befell Ilene and countless others. A balanced, thoughtful approach that prioritizes mental health, student safety, and critical inquiry is essential to protect vulnerable young adults.

Your voice can help amplify this important conversation, and I believe together we can make a difference. Thank you for listening and for any support you can offer in honoring Ilene's memory.

I finally spoke out. It's the most liberating thing I've ever done.

It's been nearly six years since my daughter's announcement. For four years before that, there had been a drastic change in her attitude, her appearance, her interests. She has spent half of her life being one person, and half being another. It destabilized me for a long time.

I was not equipped to deal with what was happening. There was no other parent in my circle dealing with something so dramatic. I am deliberative, perhaps to a fault. I make no decision without gathering as much information as I can. I did not know anywhere near enough to be comfortable taking strong action, so I did nothing. I hoped it was a phase. I asked my wife where my baby girl had gone. My wife answered, "She's still in there. She'll come back." Much like the father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, I remain on watch for the child I pray will return to us soon.

The announcement of the trans identity, in spring 2019 while my mother-in-law was on her deathbed, wasn't unexpected. It was still a gut punch. She was two years from turning 18 and I was on high alert.

Following my peacemaking instincts and the advice of therapists, including those who understood the trans phenomenon, I stayed quiet. We prioritized our relationship with her over telling the truth. On a few occasions, the topic came up, and I told her where I stood. Medical interventions are a permanent response to a temporary problem. You have no idea who you will be when you are 30 or 40 years old, so don't put future you into danger because of something you can't resolve now. We discovered at age 18 that she is autistic. I hoped that autism would be a hook to get her to rethink the sources of her very real discomfort. No such luck. She had spent too much time online and in real-life worlds that convinced her that her body was the source of her pain, and that harming said body would bring her peace.

My pleas fell on deaf ears. In April 2023, a month before she turned 20, she took her first shot of testosterone. My anxiety, bordering on panic, became a deep depression. Now, every time she speaks, her once-beautiful voice cracks like a teenage boy. I wince every time I hear it. People have noticed. She's probably noticed. I'm OK with that. I get to be in pain, too, and my pain matters. I have no idea what parts of her future she's taken away by this decision, but I wonder, and it makes me so desperately sad.

The election of Donald Trump gave me a small boost that sense would finally arrive. I had, however, been demoralized by a decade of having my reality turned upside down, my language policed, my parental agency robbed, and watching an entire culture, particularly the college-indoctrinated waters that I somewhat swim in, cheer the whole thing on as if my destruction and that of my beloved daughter constituted cause for celebration. I didn't really believe change would happen.

One month has changed me.

It's undeniable. The script has flipped. The culture that aimed to destroy our children and families was in reality a micro-culture that somehow had managed to control the rest of us. (Read C.S. Lewis' "The Abolition of Man" if you want to find out how. He predicted this about 70 years before it happened.) The truth has been revealed. The villains are unmasked, and it isn't loving, concerned parents like us. It never was. I now have the freedom to breathe, and the freedom to speak. And so, I am.

This isn't an act of courage. Courage looks like Beth Bourne, Jeannette Cooper, and many others who experience alienation from their children for telling the truth publicly. Courage is telling the truth when it isn't popular. Telling the truth now that the truth can be told again isn't courage. It's necessity.

I am grateful we still have a warm relationship with our daughter. I pray that never changes. We love her and all of our children more than life itself and would willingly lay down our lives for them. I hope they know that.

But for the sake of my own integrity and mental health, I can't stay silent any longer. For years, my children, and many friends and acquaintances, have loudly proclaimed where they stand. To keep the peace, I did not. My silence punished me internally. I stuffed a lot, and I did it for a long time. That's not sustainable. But I sacrificed for what I believed was a higher cause: family unity. I've always believed that a man's role is to sacrifice for his family, and so I sacrificed myself.

Now, when family members, friends and acquaintances rail against Trump, I point out that it's he, not the Democratic Party, who is trying to protect young people from medical experimentation and long-term harm. I point out that this sinister medical regime only exists because of the patronage and protection of the Democrats. I understand that Trump is polarizing, has not lived a virtuous private life, and has said and done things, and stands for things that I and many others don’t care for. Yet I voted for one reason: to protect my daughter and thousands of other young people from this dark period in the history of medicine. That's what a father does: protects his child and others. I do this in person and on social media. I will continue to do so. My aim is true: to tell the truth so that the harm stops. That's it. Any other motive that someone else pins on me exists in their imaginations. You’ve heard them: “transphobia,” “right-wing conspiracies,” and similar rubbish. I, and all of us, have lived too long in this imaginary world circumscribed by a weird micro-culture. It ends now.

And it ends with more of us telling the truth. Each parent knows their own situation, and I'm not ordering anyone to do what I've done, but the truth is its own defense, and it brings peace to those who tell it. The more the truth is told, defended, and reinforced, the sooner the nightmare ends.

My daughter was taken by the gender cult at age 13. She was never depressed or self-harmed before the male persona showed his face.

Over these years she has been medicated, hospitalized, self harmed and attempted suicide. Thankfully, we have had largely caring professionals in our corner. Many disclosed that they would not diagnose gender dysphoria and would not recommend referral to a gender clinic or pediatric endocrinologist.

Now at age 16 we see simultaneous fractures in the ideology and also strange steadfastness. She has had two significant relationships in the last few years. First, with another trans-identified female. They identified as a gay couple. Shortly after their break up the other girl desisted and is back to her natural female name and identity. To say I have been jealous is a gross understatement.

Very recently she has told me she is dating one of her long-time male friends. He has always identified as straight and I have always liked this boy. A good friend, good kid. She has also now told me that they are sexually active and just started using contraception. You have never seen a mother so happy to hear that her teen daughter is sexually active. Yet all her friends continue to use her male pronouns and name. Maybe I am being naive that there would be a realization that denial of biology is now impossible. I am terrified to ask the following questions.

Does your boyfriend identify as gay now?

Are you even open about your relationship at school?

Is your boyfriend strong enough to weather any potential teasing?

How would he feel if your relationship continued and you wanted to transition?

Would the removal of breasts be a hardship for either of you?

Would vaginal atrophy impact your pleasure?

What if you grow body hair?

What if you lose your hair?

What about a changing voice?

Maybe it’s because my daughter just turned 26 or because she’s been on T for seven years now, but I have come to the realization that I have been living like I’m in a cult too. And I want out. There’s got to be something between giving up hope that she will ever detransition and accepting her as a trans-man. I can’t do either. Can I live in the space in-between? If I can control nothing else, can I manage my reaction to her behavior? Starting now here are some changes I’m making.

• No longer looking for signs of desistance.

• No longer reviewing her medical statements to see what treatment she is pursuing.

• No longer checking out the mountain of drugs she’s on and researching what they are for and their side effects.

• No longer trying to talk to her about anything trans related (honestly, I gave this up years ago).

• Not trying to “sow seeds of doubts”. If she can spend hours researching the dog’s ear infection, she can spend 10 minutes reading up on the impact of T on the female body. She doesn’t need me for that.

• Not leaving photos around of when she looked normal.

• Not trying to pretend she doesn’t have severe mental health issues. This isn’t about gender. It’s about maladaptive coping techniques.

• No longer comparing her to her former peers, her friends from pre-trans days. They have moved on with their lives and careers. Her new peers are others with autism with mental health challenges.

• No longer encouraging her to work out or eat healthy. What’s the point when she is poisoning her body with T?

• Trying not to talk about her with friends who know her story and are kind enough (and brave enough) to inquire. There’s no good news to share and the story is just tragic.

• No longer canceling plans because I feel bad leaving her alone.

• Avoid thinking about what the future might look like for her. What she is doing makes meeting any milestone – getting a job, finding a partner, making friends, moving out – immeasurably more difficult. And there is nothing I can do about it.

• No longer pining for a pleasant mother/daughter relationship. Did we ever even have one? I question all my memories of the past now. But I don’t see one in our future. At least we don’t fight.

• No longer reading about gender issues, about autism or neurodivergence. I could write my own books about them. Now I enjoy reading fiction.

In summary, it’s time for me to move on. I love her. I support her. I will always be there for her. But I can’t prevent her from ruining her life. If hope is the thing with feathers, I have gone bald.