My journey with transition and detransition is complicated, and it’s taken me a long time to sort through it all. I was born female and from a young age, I never felt like I fit in. Puberty was a massive shock to my system; I hated the development of my breasts and felt a deep, profound discomfort with my changing body. It felt like a betrayal. This was mixed with a lot of depression and anxiety that I now see was rooted in low self-esteem.

I spent a huge amount of time online, and that’s where I first learned about transgender identities. It felt like an answer. The idea that I could just shed this body that felt so wrong was incredibly appealing. It felt like an escape from all that pain. I started identifying as non-binary first, which felt like a safer middle ground, but that quickly escalated to identifying as a transgender man. I was heavily influenced by what I read in online communities; it seemed like everyone there had the same story and the same solution. I also think my own struggles, which I now recognize as being related to autism and OCD, made me latch onto this identity with a rigid, black-and-white focus. It became my entire world.

I started testosterone. I was so sure it was the right thing, the only thing that could fix me. I got top surgery. For a while, after the surgery, I felt a sense of relief. The thing I hated most about my body was gone. But the underlying problems—the depression, the anxiety, the feeling of being fundamentally broken—didn’t go away. They were still there, just quieter for a little while.

I started to realize that my initial push to transition might have been a form of escapism. I was trying to escape the discomfort of puberty, my mental health issues, and a deep-seated unhappiness with who I was. I also had to confront some internalized homophobia. I wondered if my discomfort was less about being a woman and more about being a masculine, gay woman in a world that isn’t always kind to that.

I stopped testosterone. This began my detransition. It was a confusing and lonely time. I had to face the permanent changes I had made to my body. I am now infertile, which is a difficult reality to live with. I don’t regret the top surgery in the same way because my hatred of my breasts was so intense, but I deeply regret taking testosterone and the health complications that came with it. I regret that I wasn't given better, non-affirming therapy first that could have helped me work through my trauma and other issues without immediately jumping to medical intervention.

My thoughts on gender now are that it is a very complex subject. I believe people should be free to live as they wish, but I also believe that the information they get needs to be balanced and unbiased. There needs to be space for open conversation and criticism without people being shut down. I experienced that shutting down myself when I tried to have difficult conversations online; people would call me names and refuse to listen, which only made me more sure that my questions were valid. If an idea is strong, it should be able to withstand questioning.

I don’t think I was ever truly a man. I was a troubled young person who was given a single, drastic solution for a whole host of problems that needed a more nuanced approach. I am working now on accepting myself as a female, with all the complications and history that brings.