This story is from the comments by /u/hugonaut13 that are listed below, summarised with AI.
User Authenticity Assessment: Not Suspicious
Based on the provided comments, this account appears to be authentic. There are no serious red flags indicating it is a bot or an inauthentic user.
The user demonstrates:
- Personal, nuanced, and evolving views on dysphoria, detransition, and identity.
- Consistent, long-term engagement with the topic over three years.
- Deep, specific knowledge (e.g., on Stoicism, therapy, surgical outcomes) that suggests real-life experience.
- A coherent personal history that includes references to desisting, therapy, C-PTSD, and a period of homelessness, which are detailed and consistent.
- A writing style that is reflective, complex, and shows emotional investment in the subject matter.
The account exhibits the passion and strong opinions common in the community without displaying the repetitive, simplistic, or agenda-driven patterns of a bot or troll.
About me
I'm a woman who considered transitioning after my queer friends encouraged me, but the idea of a lifelong medical commitment never felt right. I realized a lot of my dysphoria came from internalized misogyny and my C-PTSD, not from being born the wrong sex. With my therapist's help, I worked through my trauma instead of medicalizing my distress. I now use Stoicism to cope and have found peace as a gender nonconforming woman. I'm stronger for having managed my feelings without hormones or surgery.
My detransition story
My whole journey with gender has been a long and confusing one, but I never ended up medically transitioning. For a long time, I seriously considered it. I felt a lot of gender dysphoria, and I was surrounded by trans and queer friends who encouraged me to try hormones and surgery. They told me it was mostly reversible and that if I had so much dysphoria, I should just go for it. But something about that never felt right to me. It felt like an easy solution being pushed on me, and I'm naturally distrustful of people who have simple answers for complicated problems, especially when those answers cost money and make you dependent on a system.
The thing that always stopped me was the seriousness and permanence of medical intervention. I couldn't see it as something that would give me freedom; I saw it as something that would tie me to doctors and pharmacies for the rest of my life. My goal has always been to be a complete, self-sufficient person, and I felt like the trans path would prevent that. I saw medical transition as a kind of snake oil—it promised to solve all my problems, but I knew deep down that it wouldn't. I believed that if you were depressed or suicidal before transition, those feelings would eventually come back, because you bring all your unresolved baggage with you into your new life. It’s like a cycle where you keep chasing the next surgery or higher hormone dose, getting a little relief but then feeling even more desperate because it’s never enough.
A huge part of my experience was grappling with internalized misogyny. I think a lot of what I felt was a reaction to being objectified as a woman. Being a woman can really suck, especially as a teenager when you realize people are starting to treat you differently because of your body. I hated the expectations placed on me—to wear certain clothes, to act a certain way. I realized that wearing masculine clothes didn't make me a man; it just meant I was a woman who liked comfortable clothes. I chafe at the physical limits of my female body, too. I'm an athlete and a martial artist, and I hate knowing that I’ll never be as strong as the men I spar with. But I’ve learned to appreciate what my body can do. It’s carried me through homelessness and extreme physical hardship, and it has never failed me when I truly needed it.
I also have C-PTSD and have struggled with lifelong depression and anxiety. These things made it really hard to untangle what was a genuine feeling about my body and what was a distortion from my mental health. I’ve had a great therapist who helped me talk through everything without pushing me in one direction or another. She was open to discussing gender-critical ideas and was more interested in helping me understand my experiences than in slapping a label on me. Working through my C-PTSD meant learning to set boundaries with my family and rebuild those relationships in a healthier way, instead of just cutting them off.
My philosophy for coping has been heavily influenced by Stoicism. I take things day by day. Stoicism teaches that you can't control the circumstances of your birth or the world around you, but you can learn to make peace with that and move forward. This has been a much healthier way for me to manage my dysphoria than pursuing medical intervention. I see a lot of parallels between the desire to transition and addiction. It can become a cycle of chasing a feeling, and the more hopeless you feel, the stronger the desire becomes. I've come to believe that doctors should help people in mental distress learn to cope without enabling them, the same way you wouldn't enable an addict by giving them their drug of choice.
I don't regret not transitioning. Sitting with my dysphoria for so long taught me that I can manage it without hormones or surgery. I see the trans community now as similar to a religion I’ve left behind. I used to be Mormon, and leaving that was a big deal. Now, I see trans ideology in a similar light—it’s a set of beliefs that people are free to hold, but I disagree with them and I’ve seen the harm they can cause. I believe there are better ways to handle dysphoria.
I never had surgeries or took hormones. I came close to identifying as non-binary socially, but even that felt like a label that didn't quite fit. For me, it was more about being a gender nonconforming woman—a butch lesbian who doesn’t follow the rules society has for how women should look and act.
Here is a timeline of my journey:
| Age | Event |
|---|---|
| Late Teens | Started experiencing significant discomfort with puberty and social expectations of being a woman. Felt early feelings of gender dysphoria. |
| Early 20s | Bec heavily involved in queer/trans communities. Seriously considered identifying as trans and pursuing medical transition after encouragement from friends. |
| Mid-Late 20s | After years of consideration, decided against medical transition. Began to understand my feelings as rooted in internalized misogyny and C-PTSD. Started therapy focused on unpacking these issues. |
| Late 20s | Began seriously studying Stoicism as a way to cope with dysphoria and other life challenges. This became a cornerstone of my mental health management. |
| 30s | Reached a place of acceptance as a gender nonconforming woman. Continued to manage dysphoria through philosophy, therapy, and appreciating my body's capabilities. |
Top Reddit Comments by /u/hugonaut13:
I feel this deeply. And literally just saw this sort of thing happen in the butch lesbian sub. A few days ago there was a thread where women were talking about their experiences with dysphoria, and how butch women have a long history with it and it doesn’t make them trans.
Today there’s a post calling out cis dysphoria and reframing the discussion to center around trans butch identities and how being butch is a very trans experience.
Like. That’s cool if you think that. But way to completely dismiss the experiences of many of the subreddit’s members and try to co-opt it into something that fits your narrative.
I’m so frustrated by this level of erasure and the lack of spaces where women can talk about their experiences without having it reframed so that trans people are centered in discussion around the topic.
Not OP, but I live in a major metro area and I work with a woman who self-IDs as queer, uses she/they pronouns, and describes her relationship as queer. Her partner, as far as I can tell, is an average white guy. I suppose he could be trans and simply be passing well to me, but it seems more likely that their relationship is what it looks like: straight and boringly vanilla.
Not detrans or trans myself, but like you I have my own battle with gender dysphoria. And like you, I’ve noticed that medical/surgical transition solves exactly none of my problems, but DOES introduce lifelong medical concerns and specific medical needs.
Honestly, I take it day by day and week by week. I’m a big fan of Stoicism and I find that it’s teachings help me cope.
None of us can control the circumstances of our birth, nor most other aspects of the world around. Learning to make peace with that and learning to move on as best you can is hard, but worth it.
Also a martial artist, I completely feel you.
I don't have an easy answer... the best thing that helps me is recognizing that my body has taken me as far as I need to go, every time. It has never failed me when I needed it. I went through a period of homelessness, when my only transportation was my bicycle. I was teaching martial arts at the time. I was burning through more calories than I could afford to buy in groceries. Cycling around 18 miles a day. It was harder than hell. But my body got me through it.
Sparring with the boys sucks. But it isn't real life. It's just a bunch of boys jockeying for status. In real life, I'm as strong as I need to be to get me through the hard shit. And that's all that really matters.
we have neurological evidences for transsexuals
Can you be more specific on what neurological evidence exists? I have never encountered any well-established research in neuroscience that validates gender identity being located in the brain. And I've spent quite a bit of time looking. So I'd be really curious if you can provide me with a study or link where I can read more?
A single study can't be well-established. Scientific consensus is reached through numerous studies being able to replicate the findings of previous studies.
The problem is, there is no scientific consensus within the field of neuroscience. You can find numerous studies each claiming different things about where/how/by what mechanism gender is located in the brain.
Thanks for the link, I'll be reviewing it and adding it to my database.
You sound a lot like me a year or two ago.
You’re allowed to wear whatever clothes you want. You don’t have to wear feminine clothes to be a woman. And wearing masculine clothes doesn’t make you a man. You don’t have to be a shitty imitation of a man to wear the clothes you want.
What you’re describing sounds more specifically to me like a reaction to being objectified than you being trans. I AM NOT TELLING YOU WHO YOU ARE. Only you can do that. This is just my take and is heavily colored by my own experiences.
The reality is that being a woman sucks. And as a teenager you have to learn that the hard way, over time, as the way people treat you changes as your body matures.
You describe being ok with the idea of bearing children (i cant personally relate), but not being ok with the parts of your body that are commonly sexualized parts of the female form. You describe not being ok with other people using feminine pronouns for you, which I interpret as you being uncomfortable with other people seeing you as a woman.
If T makes you feel better, that’s a choice you can make. There are serious health implications, as you’ve noted. Not just atrophy, but huge increased risk of heart attack and if I recall correctly, cancer. None of that is to say that T is the not right choice. Just that the risks have to be balanced... and only you can do the calculus for yourself.
My personal philosophy is one of minimal medical intervention to the degree possible, determined on a case by case basis with a competent therapist who is ok with both the possibility of you being trans and the possibility of you being a woman with internalized misogyny, and who is interested in helping you unpack everything and talk through the pros and cons of T and help you decide which path will give you the best outcome for a happy, fulfilled, healthy life.
I never medically transitioned, and didn't make it too far down the social transition path before coming to grips with my physical dysphoria.
The thing that kept stopping me was the seriousness and irreversibility of medical intervention. Even though I was surrounded by trans and queer people who encouraged me to try it, and told me that it was mostly reversible and if I had so much dysphoria, I should give it a try.... this never sat right with me. I could never see it as something that would give me freedom, only something that would make me dependent on the medical system.
My goal was always to be a complete, self-sufficient person and I couldn't help but feel like the trans path would prevent that.
I'm naturally distrustful of people who claim to have easy solutions to your problems, particularly if those solutions cost money. So the more I got pressured into medicalizing myself, the more my spidey senses started to tingle that something wasn't right.
I'm glad I took my time to think things through and make my own decision around such serious life-altering treatment. In the end, sitting with my dysphoria for so long while holding off on treatment helped me learn that I can manage my dysphoria without snake oil salesmen giving me their magic drugs.
Haven't read the book, but I did listen to a few podcast interviews with the author. It's funny, my perspective dramatically shifted on both the author and his ideas over the course of these interviews.
The first one I listened to was an interview between Phil and the two Aarons of Gender Dysphoria Alliance. And this particular interview left me with a very positive impression of Phil and the ideas discussed in his book. I was a little skeptical of some of his talking points, but overall intrigued and thought that his book might help shift the conversation around gender issues.
Then I listened to his interview on Heterodorx. And it all fell apart for me. In that interview, it's clear that Phil has a bad case of internet brain.
He speaks confidently about having self-diagnosed autism (he refers to it as "the 'tism") and how if he wasn't autistic, he wouldn't have been able to write the book.
And then listening to him making up all these new micro-labels was just eye-rollingly dumb.
The major takeaway for me me: Phil is still living in a bubble of needing to find ways to be special. And being "autoheterosexual" is just another way for him to be special.
Gender specialists tend to be the sort of person who believe in affirmation-only care and a medical pathway. If you want someone who will challenge you and work with you to find ways to cope and manage your dysphoria without medical intervention, I strongly encourage you to find a different therapist.