“I feel like we’re all just doing it,” says a doctor from the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH). recent report which uncovered a recording of what proponents of so-called gender-affirming care have said when they think no one is watching. “And [that’s] Okay, you’re on it too. But maybe we can just do it together.”
The ‘it’ they were ‘waving’ was my body. Their recklessness has left me with lifelong scars, both physically and psychologically.
I was only about fifteen years old when I was introduced to transgenderism. Much of what I heard resonated with me. I hated myself and hated my body. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and anorexia, so I was no stranger to feeling uncomfortable in my own body. I had gone to the doctor to get help for my mental state, and after my first appointment I left with an approval letter for testosterone.
Prisha Mosley shares, “I wasn’t in a good enough place or old enough to understand that I was being medically abused, or that destroying and throwing away my healthy body parts would only deepen my trauma.” (Prisha Mosley)
Just one appointment led me down a path of permanent destruction and mutilation. I believed my doctors when they told me that girls could become boys, and that removing my breasts was the “life-saving care” I needed to prevent suicide. I honestly believed that the doctors said that transition would be the cure for my mental and emotional problems.
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I wasn’t in a good enough place or old enough to understand that I was being medically abused, or that destroying and throwing away my healthy body parts would only deepen my trauma. Yet those who called themselves “medical professionals” didn’t care. After all, they were working on it.
Doctors have an obligation to ‘do no harm’. As a teenager struggling with serious mental health issues, I didn’t know I was being experimented on. I went to these doctors because I needed help. Real help. I was in distress, mentally ill and suicidal. Anyway, I was a vulnerable little girl, and the last thing I needed was to go under the knife.
There are entire areas dedicated to stabilizing young people in crisis. None of these protocols involve experimenting on healthy, developing bodies. None of these involve irreversible harm to children. None include rushing children into permanent procedures without long-term data, consensus, or basic caution.
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This particular news story was incredibly painful to read. The phrase “wing it” has been ringing in my head for days. But that is exactly what happened to meand that’s what’s happening to countless others. My story is unfortunately one of manyand I choose to speak out.
The consequences of these doctors ‘being at it’ haunt me every day. They are there when I look in the mirror and when I go to the bathroom. They are there when I bond with my children. Every part of my daily life is a reminder of what was done to me under the guise of ‘compassion’.
When I see the life-changing consequences that I have no choice but to bear, I wonder how any medical professional, institution or organization entrusted with the lives of children could justify this recklessness. How could they gamble with the future of thousands of children’s lives, including mine?
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The truth is this: the doctors never thought about my future. They considered their ideologies, personal agendas and wallets above the lives of those they covered. I now have a baby, a child whose life has been shaped by the medical decisions imposed on me when I was far too young and unstable to consent to what was happening.
The doctors who operated on me when I was so young prevented me from breastfeeding my son. My body was never designed to tolerate hormones intended for men and surgeries to cut out my healthy breasts. Yet those responsible, those charged with protecting me, put aside their own insecurity and made decisions anyway.
They were working on it. With my life. With my child’s life. With the lives of countless young patients who trust them.
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As a suicidal teenager, I sought what I was told would be life-saving care. What I didn’t realize was that the doctors tasked with caring for me were rewriting my future and putting it in the hands of people who had no desire to help my mental illness. As the truth comes to light, the question I keep coming back to is painfully simple:
Why didn’t my doctors care enough to protect me?
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Whatever the answer to that question, the bottom line is that the medical community must be held accountable, not only for the harm already done to people like me, but also for preventing vulnerable children from experiencing what I did. No young person should ever again be subjected to irreversible interventions based on guesswork.
No parent should be pressured into agreeing to experimental medicine disguised as certainty. And no child should grow up to learn that the adults entrusted with their care made it up as they went along.
