So happy for you! I have a child who chose a name that is not a name than a professional adult would use either, and I’m waiting for this madness to end.
I’m probably not the only parent on this thread wishing my child had the equivalent of your fender bender.
I’m hoping and praying the madness ends. I’m tired of hiding my version of reality from the great many people who feel so enlightened by Trans.
I hope all of our mislead kids get out there and make more friends. If you can only call a person your friend because they share a bizarre and rare delusion, it’s time to label them as a temporary place holder. It lacks the dimension and depth that a lifelong friendship requires.
I honestly have no idea. I would probably suggest counseling first and do my best to find a therapist who isn't part of the "affirm or else" agenda? I just hope like hell it doesn't come to that.
Beautiful. Yes the accident, your love and your genuine tears.
My daughter came out of it at that age once with a crush on a boy. Then covid shoved her right back in deeper than ever and the whole cult with social justice victimhood nearly killed her. She was in college then. But it was getting pregnant (boys can’t get pregnant you see, or maybe they can!?!?) and loving and nurturing someone other than herself that brought her out again. The baby, whom we love and adore and desperately, has saved her.
Your daughters story has so many similarities to mine.
Wow! Such lovely writing I was right there with you! So clearly she was just not sure about any of the things she stated that she wanted! Thank God you didn’t relent, and I think your tears let her in to the raw emotion of what it felt like to you. She saw your love for her. Thank you for sharing with us. ❤️
Thank you for sharing this. The part where she decided to go by “Shasta” really hit me…loved that she moved ever-so-slightly in reverse. Keep hanging on! It’s all we can do!
Thank you for sharing this. It is fascinating, in a gruesome way, how these kids can contemplate and often carry out the amputation of their breasts. I know today, as never before, how unformed and malleable the teenage brain is . . . As I read your piece, I thrilled right along with you at every tiny indicator of ongoing openness in your daughter -- the bustled prom dress, the pink, the flowers. I hope one day to see the same in our daughter, but for now I am grateful every waking moment that she at least decided to discontinue the testosterone injections.
I’ve lost my kid for almost 7 years now & can’t call him a kid any longer. This story still has the duration, years & years of watching, waiting, ever mindful, wary of her words…when I’m 30. Destroying this ideology is taking a long time, we must remain hopeful. Thank you for sharing your journey
A very touching and thoughtful post. Thank you for sharing this with everyone.
I have been studying the subject of middle and high school student experience for a few years now. My goal is to form a strong and cohesive argument about how parents and teachers curate the children of our communities.
What is happening in the west is novel and unique I believe. I’m also of the opinion that protectionism and openness are at the core of this phenomenon. The availability of carnal knowledge (defined for my purpose as the raw and unfiltered truth of the world, of both good and evil) fed directly to our children via the Internet is quite simply corrupting them and leaving them unmoored from any form of governance and perspective that we were taught and developed in our youth.
It’s funny to hear that old trope that the Gen-x kids had so much freedom, didn’t have to check in with parents all day, drank from the lawn sprinkler to stay hydrated… I once dumpster-dove at the local dentist’s office and collected used vials of some sort of injectable (probably Novocain) because I had this crazy idea of building my own chemistry lab. I could have died!!!
But the truth is that we all were bathed in the same way with years of curated upbringing that taught us to think about consequences. It had the effect of making us careful about our recklessness. We were somehow enabled to be on our own and not simply abandoned to our own devices.
My thinking is that we all were curated in our introduction to each new month, and year of our lives. We were grouped together in school and had to learn how to live up to all manner of expectations. There were serious consequences for stepping too far out of line and so we learned trepidation in our opportunities to be daring.
Certainly the negative effects of that were problematic as we sometimes felt unjustly unkind towards some groups. Gay bashing was a shameful thing that we were sometimes guilty of. Yet again we who were under the influence of more open minded mentors were quick to adopt more tolerant attitudes and this created open spaces for outcasts to integrate into. Theatre and arts kids tended to be more open and friending these kids made us more open minded and accepting.
Ours was the generation that learned to accept our friends as they were. We learned that homosexuality is natural and needs to be accepted. We were the generation who supported and eventually realized the legalization of homosexuality.
A friend I recently visited told his daughter a harrowing tale about middle school dances. He described in brutal detail how the nights would start with all the boys on one side of the gymnasium and the girls on the other side. Songs would play and groups of girls would dance together and boys would simply watch or talk among themselves.
Eventually a ballad would start and the girls would file back to their own side. All would wait for the boys. One boy would finally work up the courage to walk out onto the floor, he would cross over to the other side and ask a girl for a dance. If she said yes then others would follow suit and eventually young couples would be taking to the floor to dance awkwardly. If her answer was no… well the poor little guy would have to walk back across the floor to the boys side. You can imagine how heavy that would have been.
It was terrifying!
But to dance, yes, to hold on to a partner who up until that moment was just another kid, who now perhaps was wearing a bit of makeup, maybe a pretty dress, perfume (good Lord, perfume), and who knew how amazing she was until this moment.
Dancing was of course curated by volunteer staff and parents who casually walked around simply being visible. They were undoubtedly confident that they had instilled into their charges, the fear of serious consequences for impropriety but more importantly they obviously knew that we were clueless about each other. We were clueless about sex and too overwhelmed by the newness of this kind of behavior to even consider any kind of impropriety ourselves.
The end of these evenings were triumphant or deflating. But our friends were identified by their allegiance and their encouraging support. We were, either way, committed to greater success come the next dance.
Note that the expectation was that there would be at least four if not more dances each year from grade seven through to grade 12.
We learned to be gentlemen and ladies through these dances. Gay or straight the expectation was the same for all of us.
My wife and 40-years-long lover recalls that her mother sat her down before her first dance and explained how much pressure was put upon boys to screw up the courage needed to ask for the dance. She was mercifully encouraged to say yes to acceptable boys.
When we met she was an absolute sweetheart to me even though we were classmates and colleagues only at first. Later on it was she who made the first move. It was subtle but oh so compelling. Yep, her schtick still works on me.
The long and short of it is that we were not just afforded more freedom and time to be out there in the world. We were guided by example, guided by threat, guided by the drive to recover from our own failures, and access to carnal knowledge was made clear to us that it was forbidden. Religious or not our parents realized that the protection we really needed was not from the experience and exploration of the world but from the idea that we were unable to handle the inevitable failure that only can come from not moving forward and taking the risks that were necessary for us to pass the rites of becoming older and better.
We still found porn in tiny little bits here and there but certainly not the stuff that invades our smart phones these days. We also knew about the dreaded STD’s that were much scarier then than now.
Naturally there were boys and girls who ventured far beyond the pale and often ended up the worse for their efforts. Teen pregnancy was still a very serious and heavy burden to bear though perhaps not as much as in our parents generation. Abortion was almost unheard of and very illegal.
Still, for most of us and in spite of being left out of sight and mind for hours at a time we were loved and knew without a doubt that rescue was coming if ever we needed it.
It’s odd to me that so many of us who remember our childhood as being so special have not been able to facilitate those same experiences for our children.
I hope some of you have made it to the end of this tldr diatribe. And if you have please do weigh in. Grandkids are pending and they deserve a better deal than has been made for our children. Let’s talk it out.
I couldn’t call my kid their chosen name either. I also hated it. It’s been four years. And by some miracle I still have my kid too. My heart breaks for all those that don’t.
I don’t criticize my child’s rainbow cult. I moved to criticize WPATH and John Money, Alfred Kinsey, Johanna Olson-Kennedy, Diane Ehrensaft and Marcy Bowers. I’ve taken the blame of close friends and said they have ALL been lied to. And influencers online have all been lied to. I hopeful this gives them a safe way out. It’s not you, or your friends. It one big fat lie by WPATH. I hope it works.
I like that “ I hope the madness ends”. But it is better that if we are pro active and pray God for our children because hope is specifically a divine term, as simple humans hope is a given by the Creator, we never can have hope for the sake of hope and waiting for some magic, we wait for miracles in a up side down world.
I’m really happy with my breast reduction but it’s a difficult surgery and it took a long time to feel normal.
So happy for you! I have a child who chose a name that is not a name than a professional adult would use either, and I’m waiting for this madness to end.
I’m probably not the only parent on this thread wishing my child had the equivalent of your fender bender.
I’m hoping and praying the madness ends. I’m tired of hiding my version of reality from the great many people who feel so enlightened by Trans.
I hope all of our mislead kids get out there and make more friends. If you can only call a person your friend because they share a bizarre and rare delusion, it’s time to label them as a temporary place holder. It lacks the dimension and depth that a lifelong friendship requires.
Serious question here... If your daughter comes to you at 30 and tells you that she still feels trans, what will you tell her?
I honestly have no idea. I would probably suggest counseling first and do my best to find a therapist who isn't part of the "affirm or else" agenda? I just hope like hell it doesn't come to that.
"Shasta... it hasta be Shasta..."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vR8qipRgrjQ
Beautiful. Yes the accident, your love and your genuine tears.
My daughter came out of it at that age once with a crush on a boy. Then covid shoved her right back in deeper than ever and the whole cult with social justice victimhood nearly killed her. She was in college then. But it was getting pregnant (boys can’t get pregnant you see, or maybe they can!?!?) and loving and nurturing someone other than herself that brought her out again. The baby, whom we love and adore and desperately, has saved her.
Your daughters story has so many similarities to mine.
I look forward to a happy Part 3 for you.
Wow! Such lovely writing I was right there with you! So clearly she was just not sure about any of the things she stated that she wanted! Thank God you didn’t relent, and I think your tears let her in to the raw emotion of what it felt like to you. She saw your love for her. Thank you for sharing with us. ❤️
Thank you for sharing this. The part where she decided to go by “Shasta” really hit me…loved that she moved ever-so-slightly in reverse. Keep hanging on! It’s all we can do!
Thank you for sharing this. It is fascinating, in a gruesome way, how these kids can contemplate and often carry out the amputation of their breasts. I know today, as never before, how unformed and malleable the teenage brain is . . . As I read your piece, I thrilled right along with you at every tiny indicator of ongoing openness in your daughter -- the bustled prom dress, the pink, the flowers. I hope one day to see the same in our daughter, but for now I am grateful every waking moment that she at least decided to discontinue the testosterone injections.
As I read your entire account, I was in awe of your wisdom in the responses you gave your daughter. She's lucky to have such a wise and loving mother.
I’ve lost my kid for almost 7 years now & can’t call him a kid any longer. This story still has the duration, years & years of watching, waiting, ever mindful, wary of her words…when I’m 30. Destroying this ideology is taking a long time, we must remain hopeful. Thank you for sharing your journey
A very touching and thoughtful post. Thank you for sharing this with everyone.
I have been studying the subject of middle and high school student experience for a few years now. My goal is to form a strong and cohesive argument about how parents and teachers curate the children of our communities.
What is happening in the west is novel and unique I believe. I’m also of the opinion that protectionism and openness are at the core of this phenomenon. The availability of carnal knowledge (defined for my purpose as the raw and unfiltered truth of the world, of both good and evil) fed directly to our children via the Internet is quite simply corrupting them and leaving them unmoored from any form of governance and perspective that we were taught and developed in our youth.
It’s funny to hear that old trope that the Gen-x kids had so much freedom, didn’t have to check in with parents all day, drank from the lawn sprinkler to stay hydrated… I once dumpster-dove at the local dentist’s office and collected used vials of some sort of injectable (probably Novocain) because I had this crazy idea of building my own chemistry lab. I could have died!!!
But the truth is that we all were bathed in the same way with years of curated upbringing that taught us to think about consequences. It had the effect of making us careful about our recklessness. We were somehow enabled to be on our own and not simply abandoned to our own devices.
My thinking is that we all were curated in our introduction to each new month, and year of our lives. We were grouped together in school and had to learn how to live up to all manner of expectations. There were serious consequences for stepping too far out of line and so we learned trepidation in our opportunities to be daring.
Certainly the negative effects of that were problematic as we sometimes felt unjustly unkind towards some groups. Gay bashing was a shameful thing that we were sometimes guilty of. Yet again we who were under the influence of more open minded mentors were quick to adopt more tolerant attitudes and this created open spaces for outcasts to integrate into. Theatre and arts kids tended to be more open and friending these kids made us more open minded and accepting.
Ours was the generation that learned to accept our friends as they were. We learned that homosexuality is natural and needs to be accepted. We were the generation who supported and eventually realized the legalization of homosexuality.
A friend I recently visited told his daughter a harrowing tale about middle school dances. He described in brutal detail how the nights would start with all the boys on one side of the gymnasium and the girls on the other side. Songs would play and groups of girls would dance together and boys would simply watch or talk among themselves.
Eventually a ballad would start and the girls would file back to their own side. All would wait for the boys. One boy would finally work up the courage to walk out onto the floor, he would cross over to the other side and ask a girl for a dance. If she said yes then others would follow suit and eventually young couples would be taking to the floor to dance awkwardly. If her answer was no… well the poor little guy would have to walk back across the floor to the boys side. You can imagine how heavy that would have been.
It was terrifying!
But to dance, yes, to hold on to a partner who up until that moment was just another kid, who now perhaps was wearing a bit of makeup, maybe a pretty dress, perfume (good Lord, perfume), and who knew how amazing she was until this moment.
Dancing was of course curated by volunteer staff and parents who casually walked around simply being visible. They were undoubtedly confident that they had instilled into their charges, the fear of serious consequences for impropriety but more importantly they obviously knew that we were clueless about each other. We were clueless about sex and too overwhelmed by the newness of this kind of behavior to even consider any kind of impropriety ourselves.
The end of these evenings were triumphant or deflating. But our friends were identified by their allegiance and their encouraging support. We were, either way, committed to greater success come the next dance.
Note that the expectation was that there would be at least four if not more dances each year from grade seven through to grade 12.
We learned to be gentlemen and ladies through these dances. Gay or straight the expectation was the same for all of us.
My wife and 40-years-long lover recalls that her mother sat her down before her first dance and explained how much pressure was put upon boys to screw up the courage needed to ask for the dance. She was mercifully encouraged to say yes to acceptable boys.
When we met she was an absolute sweetheart to me even though we were classmates and colleagues only at first. Later on it was she who made the first move. It was subtle but oh so compelling. Yep, her schtick still works on me.
The long and short of it is that we were not just afforded more freedom and time to be out there in the world. We were guided by example, guided by threat, guided by the drive to recover from our own failures, and access to carnal knowledge was made clear to us that it was forbidden. Religious or not our parents realized that the protection we really needed was not from the experience and exploration of the world but from the idea that we were unable to handle the inevitable failure that only can come from not moving forward and taking the risks that were necessary for us to pass the rites of becoming older and better.
We still found porn in tiny little bits here and there but certainly not the stuff that invades our smart phones these days. We also knew about the dreaded STD’s that were much scarier then than now.
Naturally there were boys and girls who ventured far beyond the pale and often ended up the worse for their efforts. Teen pregnancy was still a very serious and heavy burden to bear though perhaps not as much as in our parents generation. Abortion was almost unheard of and very illegal.
Still, for most of us and in spite of being left out of sight and mind for hours at a time we were loved and knew without a doubt that rescue was coming if ever we needed it.
It’s odd to me that so many of us who remember our childhood as being so special have not been able to facilitate those same experiences for our children.
I hope some of you have made it to the end of this tldr diatribe. And if you have please do weigh in. Grandkids are pending and they deserve a better deal than has been made for our children. Let’s talk it out.
I couldn’t call my kid their chosen name either. I also hated it. It’s been four years. And by some miracle I still have my kid too. My heart breaks for all those that don’t.
I don’t criticize my child’s rainbow cult. I moved to criticize WPATH and John Money, Alfred Kinsey, Johanna Olson-Kennedy, Diane Ehrensaft and Marcy Bowers. I’ve taken the blame of close friends and said they have ALL been lied to. And influencers online have all been lied to. I hopeful this gives them a safe way out. It’s not you, or your friends. It one big fat lie by WPATH. I hope it works.
I like that “ I hope the madness ends”. But it is better that if we are pro active and pray God for our children because hope is specifically a divine term, as simple humans hope is a given by the Creator, we never can have hope for the sake of hope and waiting for some magic, we wait for miracles in a up side down world.
Happy for you. Thanks for sharing.
Hopes and prayers for a complete recovery for your daughter.