Sad story
They were irreversibly altered with mastectomies, hormone therapies when they were in their teens. What happens when they want their bodies back?
A surgeon removed Amy’s breasts the day she turned 16.
There was no “psych evaluation,” she said, no mental health assessment before the double mastectomy to explore why she felt so unhappy and miserable with her body.
When her worried parents asked the surgeon if their daughter was old enough to consent, they were assured that the surgeon had worked on even younger patients seeking female-to-male masculinizing chest surgery.
Amy hoped her chest or “top” surgery would be the end of her problems. Then her mental health spiralled.
Now 18, and in her final year of high school in Southern Ontario, Amy is reverting to her birth gender. She is detransitioning and seeking breast surgery to get her pre-transition body back, “some form of reconstruction to emulate what I could have had.”
Like most provinces, gender-affirming surgery is a publicly funded service in Ontario. Amy’s mastectomy was covered by the Ontario Health Insurance Plan, except for $3,000 in extra fees for chest contouring, to sculpt the remaining breast tissue into a chest more resembling a male. But Amy said she was advised by her family doctor that she couldn’t make a referral for breast reconstruction because it would be considered cosmetic surgery.
“It’s not like I had breast cancer or something,” Amy said she was told. “I guess the way the government sees this is that I chose this,” said Amy, whose real name is not being used to protect her identity because under today’s gender-affirming approach to care, detransitioning is a highly stigmatized “patient outcome.”
Amy lost friends when she detransitioned. “I guess before I was cool or something.” Some accused her of being transphobic, others just quietly stopped talking to her. When she reached out to her youth gender clinic and told them she was detransitioning, “they dropped me,” she said.
“They basically told Amy there was nothing they could do for her,” her mother said.
True rates of people stopping, shifting or reversing a gender transition are unknown. But research into the phenomenon suggests that people who once identified as transgender and who now want to stop cross-sex hormones or reverse surgical interventions are often left to navigate difficult circumstances on their own, without needed medical or psychological support.
“Access to reconstruction is limited,” said Kinnon MacKinnon, an assistant professor at York University’s School of Social Work. People don’t know where to find surgeons who specialize in reconstruction or how to find insurance to cover it.
Detransitioners have described experiencing stigma and shame from doctors and therapists, and a new kind of gender dysphoria because of their hormonally or surgically altered bodies. But those in the field said some surgeons may be more judicious and wary out of fear of further regret or liability. Some detransitioners are suing their doctors, alleging their desire for extreme interventions was never challenged and alternative options never offered. What if the person re-transitions?
The National Post reached out to six detransitioners across the country. All were born female and suffered from gender dysphoria and mental health issues. Many experienced regret and felt they were too young and distressed to be allowed to consent to such life-altering interventions. Four agreed to tell their stories publicly.
“Nobody knows how to help you because this is new territory,” said Sarah of British Columbia. She asked that her last name not be used to protect her family.
Sarah began identifying as transgender when she was around 15, while being treated for depression. She said it’s hard to remember the exact time and dates. “Being on antidepressants and going through a lot in my life, everything was a huge blur for me.”
I’d have these moments where I would just look in the mirror and start to cry. What did I do to myself?Sarah
After puberty blockers, she began taking testosterone at 17, followed by a double mastectomy at 18. It was surgery “I didn’t have to pay a dime for,” she said. Abused as a child, not by her parents, she dreaded puberty and being looked at as a girl and in ways that made her feel deeply uncomfortable. “So, I thought, ‘If I was a man, nobody would look at me this way or treat me this way.’”
The first time she looked in the mirror after her breasts were removed, she felt right “with the man that I saw,” she wrote on a crowdfunding page to raise money for reversal procedures. Two years later, she began to have doubts that she tried to brush off, fearing it was too late. “I tried to ignore it,” she said. “But I’d have these moments where I would just look in the mirror and start to cry: ‘What did I do to myself, and how will I come back from this?’”
She began to detransition at 20.
Now 23, she has body hair “everywhere, like an Italian dude.” Nearly $41,000 raised crowdfunding is gone, spent on laser hair removal that didn’t work as well as hoped. That meant electrolysis to remove individual hairs, which means having to grow out her facial hair because the hair needs to be visible for it to be removed. “I’m way too anxious and uncomfortable with working at the moment,” Sarah said. She’s getting by on a small income and is on a waitlist for therapy for depression.
nationalpost.com
They were irreversibly altered with mastectomies, hormone therapies when they were in their teens. What happens when they want their bodies back?
A surgeon removed Amy’s breasts the day she turned 16.
There was no “psych evaluation,” she said, no mental health assessment before the double mastectomy to explore why she felt so unhappy and miserable with her body.
When her worried parents asked the surgeon if their daughter was old enough to consent, they were assured that the surgeon had worked on even younger patients seeking female-to-male masculinizing chest surgery.
Amy hoped her chest or “top” surgery would be the end of her problems. Then her mental health spiralled.
Now 18, and in her final year of high school in Southern Ontario, Amy is reverting to her birth gender. She is detransitioning and seeking breast surgery to get her pre-transition body back, “some form of reconstruction to emulate what I could have had.”
Like most provinces, gender-affirming surgery is a publicly funded service in Ontario. Amy’s mastectomy was covered by the Ontario Health Insurance Plan, except for $3,000 in extra fees for chest contouring, to sculpt the remaining breast tissue into a chest more resembling a male. But Amy said she was advised by her family doctor that she couldn’t make a referral for breast reconstruction because it would be considered cosmetic surgery.
“It’s not like I had breast cancer or something,” Amy said she was told. “I guess the way the government sees this is that I chose this,” said Amy, whose real name is not being used to protect her identity because under today’s gender-affirming approach to care, detransitioning is a highly stigmatized “patient outcome.”
Amy lost friends when she detransitioned. “I guess before I was cool or something.” Some accused her of being transphobic, others just quietly stopped talking to her. When she reached out to her youth gender clinic and told them she was detransitioning, “they dropped me,” she said.
“They basically told Amy there was nothing they could do for her,” her mother said.
True rates of people stopping, shifting or reversing a gender transition are unknown. But research into the phenomenon suggests that people who once identified as transgender and who now want to stop cross-sex hormones or reverse surgical interventions are often left to navigate difficult circumstances on their own, without needed medical or psychological support.
“Access to reconstruction is limited,” said Kinnon MacKinnon, an assistant professor at York University’s School of Social Work. People don’t know where to find surgeons who specialize in reconstruction or how to find insurance to cover it.
Detransitioners have described experiencing stigma and shame from doctors and therapists, and a new kind of gender dysphoria because of their hormonally or surgically altered bodies. But those in the field said some surgeons may be more judicious and wary out of fear of further regret or liability. Some detransitioners are suing their doctors, alleging their desire for extreme interventions was never challenged and alternative options never offered. What if the person re-transitions?
The National Post reached out to six detransitioners across the country. All were born female and suffered from gender dysphoria and mental health issues. Many experienced regret and felt they were too young and distressed to be allowed to consent to such life-altering interventions. Four agreed to tell their stories publicly.
“Nobody knows how to help you because this is new territory,” said Sarah of British Columbia. She asked that her last name not be used to protect her family.
Sarah began identifying as transgender when she was around 15, while being treated for depression. She said it’s hard to remember the exact time and dates. “Being on antidepressants and going through a lot in my life, everything was a huge blur for me.”
I’d have these moments where I would just look in the mirror and start to cry. What did I do to myself?Sarah
After puberty blockers, she began taking testosterone at 17, followed by a double mastectomy at 18. It was surgery “I didn’t have to pay a dime for,” she said. Abused as a child, not by her parents, she dreaded puberty and being looked at as a girl and in ways that made her feel deeply uncomfortable. “So, I thought, ‘If I was a man, nobody would look at me this way or treat me this way.’”
The first time she looked in the mirror after her breasts were removed, she felt right “with the man that I saw,” she wrote on a crowdfunding page to raise money for reversal procedures. Two years later, she began to have doubts that she tried to brush off, fearing it was too late. “I tried to ignore it,” she said. “But I’d have these moments where I would just look in the mirror and start to cry: ‘What did I do to myself, and how will I come back from this?’”
She began to detransition at 20.
Now 23, she has body hair “everywhere, like an Italian dude.” Nearly $41,000 raised crowdfunding is gone, spent on laser hair removal that didn’t work as well as hoped. That meant electrolysis to remove individual hairs, which means having to grow out her facial hair because the hair needs to be visible for it to be removed. “I’m way too anxious and uncomfortable with working at the moment,” Sarah said. She’s getting by on a small income and is on a waitlist for therapy for depression.
'How will I come back from this?': Detransitioners abandoned by medical and trans communities
They were irreversibly altered with mastectomies and hormone therapies in their teens. What happens when they want their bodies back?
nationalpost.com
