What if it won’t be enough?

I am the mother of a girl who calls herself trans.

I don't like hiding myself, but today I can't do otherwise. Although I would like to put my face to it, my first duty is to protect and respect my daughter's identity, freedom, and privacy.

While I was thinking about how to make myself unrecognizable, it occurred to me that I could borrow my daughter's mask, the one she has been wearing every single day for more than a year now, which transforms her into what she believes to be her “true self”.

Far from the evocative block of rough marble in which the artist discovers the already hidden, beautiful shape, this new search for the “authentic self " dramatically resembles a diving suit, worn - like a uniform - by an army of girls.

It includes extra-large clothes (mostly black), sneakers (2 sizes larger) and chest binders that barely allow you to breathe. A disguise that forces unnatural movements and postures. This costume does not even allow the wearer to bathe in the summer, laughing happily with their friends, as they used to do until recently. Along with the disguise, one is apt to use deep tones of voice and rough ways of speaking. So, what's wrong with a disguise?

Nothing at all—as long as we are aware (at least the adults) that we are just playing.

We would not tell a child dressed as Superman and waving at us from the top of a ladder that he is really a superhero and therefore he can fly.

And we wouldn't tell a girl weighing less than 80 pounds, who perceives herself as “too fat”, that she can go on a diet.

So, we wouldn't tell a girl who chose a male name for herself that she is a boy… oh God, that's exactly what we're doing. The trans costume is reality, supposedly.

Our daughters were at one point tricked into thinking that their struggles, their sadness, their quirks, or even their puberty discomfort were signs that they were trans. Since our daughters cut their hair and have their friends call them by a chosen male name, they believe they became male. This is their problem. Your children, their friends and schoolmates, have been indoctrinated into recognizing our dysphoric daughters as boys and using masculine pronouns as required, despite they know how to distinguish boys from girls since the first year of kindergarten: this is the problem of your children, yours and ours.

And the same goes for teachers, psychologists, doctors, and a large part of our society in general. We have all been trained.

But what happens if all those around you, instead of bringing you back to reality, accept and indulge your fantasy and your illusions? Then you fall, without a safety net.

At a certain point, our daughters shifted their attention from the difficulty of growing up and discovering themselves, to the goal of being perceived by society as males—but they will never be male without a magic wand. Every cell in my daughter’s body is female and will always be.

However, this simple piece of truth is not what our beloved daughters read on the internet and on social networks, where even doctors, in their TikTok profiles, declare themselves ready to fulfill any desire of sex transition.

Today I want to tell you what really scares us.

And it is not the judgment of others on our children or on us as parents, or the fear of disappointing friends and relatives, or the fear of losing someone's friendship. Nor it is the worry that our children will not find work, that they will be marginalized, or that we will not have grandchildren in the future, as some people dare to say.

This is what we're afraid of:

I am afraid that my daughter will faint on the bus or on the street because she has been wearing the binder for too many hours.

I'm afraid the pediatrician will suggest puberty blockers, maybe in front of her.

I am afraid that, if one day she changes her mind, she will feel so much shame, and will not have the courage to take back her words.

I'm afraid she is investing all her energy in building a “false-self”.

I'm afraid that a law will pass that will prevent me from calling my daughter by her proper name, that one name I treasured for her even before conception.

I'm afraid that teachers at school will call her by that male name she assigned to herself without letting me know.

I'm afraid she will ask me to go to a gender clinic to start hormones injections, and I'm afraid she will go there alone when she's 18.

I'm afraid doctors won't see beyond her gender dysphoria and won’t address the psychological issues she suffers from.

I'm afraid the hormones will make her feel worse.

I'm afraid she wants to have her breasts removed. I’m afraid of the pain and suffering she might go through, and I am afraid of the pleasures and emotions she will have given up forever, even before she has been able to experience them.

I'm afraid that one day, holding a crying baby in her arms will provoke a powerful tumult in a phantom breast, a breast that she does not have any more.

I am afraid that she will have a hysterectomy before having a partner, a relationship, a love encounter or that great love I so strongly wish for her.

I'm afraid she will want children when she won’t be able to have them anymore.

I can't even think about phalloplasty and its consequences.

I'm afraid that no milestone will ever be enough for her to truly feel male and that at some point she will realize that “being male”was never the real problem, which is what has been happening to thousands of kids in recent years: when they finally asked for a detransition, only to learn that not all of their actions were fully reversible.

For trans boys, “having it all” is equivalent to giving up too much: a healthy and whole body, sexual function, the ability to procreate.

So much suffering, such a great sacrifice and ultimately not even be happy?

I'm afraid that when the honeymoon and gender euphoria is over, when doubts, pain and unhappiness pop up, the LGBT+ community that has cheered on her transition will throw her away like a worn out pair of shoes.

Will the trans community excommunicate her? How will the doctors who operated her transition assist her? Will the trans community and those doctors abandon her in order not to deal with their own failure and conscience?

I am afraid that in the end the only one still close to her will be just me. Just me, her mom. But, of course, I'm afraid it won't be enough.