Monthly Archives: February 2019

A grand conspiracy to tell the truth: An interview with 4thWaveNow founder & her daughter Chiara of the Pique Resilience Project

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Interview by Grace Williams

In this interview with Chiara Caignon, one of the co-founders of the Pique Resilience Project (PRP), and her mother, Denise Caignon (aka “Marie Verite”), the founder of 4thWaveNow, the two women tell the story of Chiara’s temporary trans identification and how this inspired the creation of 4thWaveNow. They talk about what life was like for both mother and daughter during the teenage years when Chiara believed she was a man, and Chiara describes the influences that eventually led to her desistance.

You can read Chiara’s personal essay, “Girlhood Interrupted: The Path of Desistance,” written for the Velvet Chronicle.

For several years now, 4thWaveNow has been administered and edited by a small, dedicated group of parents; it’s no longer a one-woman show. In the meantime, Chiara has gone her own way, recently joining forces with three other detransitioned women — Dagny, Helena, and Jesse — to launch the Pique Resilience Project. The purpose of PRP is to offer support to the growing number of young people who have realized that transition was a mistake for them, as well as to young people who are questioning their gender identity but have not yet transitioned. PRP has so far released two videos (here and here) and a podcast. Chiara was also interviewed by Benjamin Boyce about her experiences with trans identification and desistance on Feb. 21, 2019.

Chiara and Denise were previously interviewed (using the pseudonyms Rachel and Janette) for an article by Charlotte McCann in the Sept. 1, 2018, issue of The Economist,
 “Why are so many teenage girls appearing in gender clinics?”

Grace Williams conducted this interview with Chiara and Denise via email. “I am one of the thousands of parents who have benefited greatly from 4thWaveNow,” says Grace, “and I’m deeply grateful to Chiara and the other young women of the Pique Resilience Project for their work to help young people like my daughter.”

Chiara, I’ve watched the videos you and the other women of the Pique Resilience Project have made and I’ve been really impressed with how articulate you all are. This is something new: a group of detransitioned/desisted women starting a YouTube channel. Can you tell us a bit about what inspired you to do this and how things are going so far?

I was put in contact with Dagny, Helena, and Jesse a few months ago, and we had our first meetup in January. The initial goal was to create an ongoing multimedia project, focused mainly on raising awareness. All four of us have unique experiences and are committed to sharing those in the hopes of informing others about the dangers of automatic gender affirmation and the influences of social media. We also dive in to other factors that fuel dysphoria, and the importance of exploring those before embarking on medical transition.

We’ve had incredible, overwhelmingly positive feedback so far, as well as a ton of opportunities that have arisen for us to expand our platform. Several parents and young people who are questioning their gender have contacted us for advice, and I personally have helped two so far in the process of self-reflecting and moving toward desisting. I’m very excited about the future for us and this project.

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Denise, what are your thoughts about PRP?

Chiara has always done things her own way. She’s tough and intelligent, so in one sense I’m not surprised that she could pull off something this important. And at the same time, what she and the other three women of PRP have created far surpasses what I could ever have imagined five years ago. Their message is one of strength and hope—not only for their primary audience, young people who are questioning their gender, but for parents whose daughters and sons have pursued and/or desisted from a trans identity. Not every young person will desist or detransition, but these women show and tell what that can be like. By joining together as a group, the PRP women are offering an alternative vision that we haven’t seen in quite this way previously (although there have been some really inspiring detransitioners who’ve been writing and vlogging about their experiences for several years now). I really think their insights and experiences will help many people in the years to come—and that includes not only those who detransition/desist and their families, but also others who continue to live as trans-identified people.

Obviously, it’s been a long and sometimes difficult road for both of you, starting with Chiara’s initial announcement that she was trans in late 2014. Let’s jump into that story, starting from the beginning. First, how did Chiara tell you she thought she was trans?

Chiara told me she was trans soon after her 17th birthday, in a text message consisting solely of a link to an online informed consent clinic that would prescribe testosterone for minors, with parental permission. Medical transition was her goal from the get-go, and pretty much out of the blue. She had never previously said one word about feeling “wrong” as a girl—in fact, quite the opposite. I had thought for quite some time that she was likely a lesbian (which I fully supported), but there had never been any indication that she despised her body or wished she were the opposite sex.

But we had just watched the TV series “Transparent” together, and good liberal that I’ve always been, my initial reaction was “maybe she IS trans.” If she had not abruptly and immediately expressed such an intense interest in testosterone and top surgery, I might not have embarked on a research mission which in rather short order resulted in alarm bells—primarily because I learned the effects of T are mostly irreversible, and I well remembered my own dead-certainties at age 17 that turned out to be mistaken when I got older. Her constant demand for hormones (and later “can I at least have top surgery”?), coupled with my phone calls to some gender therapists, all of whom in so many words told me if she said she was trans, then she was, intensified my skepticism.

Horse show photoWhen I asked one of the gender therapists how we could know she was trans as opposed to lesbian, she said, “Oh, it is very rare for a trans man to actually be a lesbian. Very, very rare.” Then there was the (very nice) FTM therapist who, when I mentioned Chiara had not had a full-on relationship yet, said, “A lot of trans teens just skip that step” and added “he’d” be welcome at the next trans teen support group that week. I actually did schedule an appointment with this therapist, as well as signed her up for the group, until my crash online course in all things trans made me think better of it and cancel. Not long after, Chiara and I together found a therapist who used a mental-health (vs. “affirmative”) model and agreed to work with Chiara without enabling medical transition.

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Chiara, why do you think you came to believe you were transgender? What forces were acting on you?

At the time, I of course believed that I was “a man trapped in a woman’s body,” and that I would truly not survive if I was not allowed to transition. (I wasn’t constantly or seriously suicidal, though I had ideation at times—it was more that I saw no future for myself as female; the only option in my mind was living as male. Additionally, suicide rates by trans-identified kids are misrepresented and used to threaten and manipulate people into “validating” identities without question.) In hindsight, however, I was struggling to deal with trauma, internalized homophobia, and social isolation. I was at a vulnerable place, and not all that happy being a girl, so I latched onto a trans identity almost as soon as I first heard about it online.

Was there a lot of talk about suicide online? If so, did that influence you in any way?

There was a large amount, the most notable being the case of Leelah Alcorn, an MtF teenager who committed suicide in 2014. Her death affected me, along with many others, as it was sensationalized and widely held up as a warning to parents: “This is what happens when you don’t let your kid transition.” This mantra continues to be repeated online and everywhere, and perpetuates the idea that suicide is the “only way out” for kids whose parents will not accept their gender identity—this is a false statement that should under no circumstance be peddled to impressionable young people.

What made you feel unhappy about being a girl?

I was dealing with trauma, which caused me to want to escape my body. This, in addition to my resistance to accepting my same-sex attraction, resulted in a rejection of being female.

How did your dysphoria manifest itself? What “triggered” it for you?

It came on in the span of a couple months, but was still a fairly gradual process. The main triggers were my increased usage of social media, which facilitated my exposure to trans ideology and activism, as well as my social isolation and beginning to learn about and come to terms with past trauma. My dysphoria caused me to adopt an appearance that was as masculine as possible—I cut my hair short, wore men’s clothes, bound my chest, and packed off and on for over a year. I even used the men’s bathrooms in public, and felt good about myself when I passed successfully.

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Denise, as every parent knows who has experienced something similar, hearing your daughter suddenly declare she is transgender and tell you she needs hormones immediately is very stressful. How did you cope?

Starting the website—which was initially a cry into the wilderness, just hoping to find and speak to other parents who were skeptical of their teen’s desire to embark on medical transition—was crucial in helping me to cope with the situation. I suspect there would have been more arguments and difficult times between Chiara and me if I had not had the outlet of writing and finding others online who were in the same boat.

Pretty much all my “in real life” friends at the time were lifelong liberals/lefties like me, who saw (as I had) everything to do with trans activism as purely and simply the next civil rights movement; they hadn’t had a reason to look into some of the more controversial aspects because their lives hadn’t been touched by the issue. So, for the most part, I couldn’t talk to them openly about what was happening in my family.

This was, of course, a very difficult time for Chiara as well. She wanted desperately to transition. Did you make any concessions to her at the time?

I did. At her request, I bought boxer shorts, “men’s” clothing, “men’s” dress shoes, and repeatedly paid for very short haircuts. I was happy to do this, in part, because being “gender nonconforming” in clothing, hairstyles, etc. doesn’t mean a person is actually the opposite sex. I was well aware, however, that these outward expressions of gender meant to Chiara that she was a man (at the time). I drew the line at hormones or surgery, and I didn’t purchase the binder she asked for. (Whether she ever got a binder herself from one of the websites that offer them free, I don’t know.)

What were conversations between you like at the time?

We pretty much had a communication breakdown. Once we were a few months into it, I began to realize that I needed to say as little as possible, because after all, in just a few months, this was all going to be out of my hands (she was 17). Also, parental lectures—or even attempts at meaningful conversation—were becoming counterproductive (that can be true for any parent and teen in conflict, trans-identified or not!). When I did say something, I tried hard to be succinct, instead of going on and on. I would say things like: “You’re a strong, gender-nonconforming young woman. That doesn’t mean you are literally a man. In fact, you could be a role model for other young women in the same boat.” At the time, this all seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Like many parents in this predicament seem to do, I found and looked up to young, detransitioned women who were writing on Tumblr. I thought they somehow had “the answer.” I now know they don’t, and many—if not most—don’t appreciate parents reaching out for help. Nevertheless, I was fortunate to be able to meet two detransitioners I’d discovered online in person when I attended the Michigan Women’s Music Festival in 2015. They were kind enough to reach out to Chiara (with her and their permission) and I remain grateful to them for their generosity.

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Chiara, what turned things around for you? Was there anything that you read or heard that suddenly helped you realize not only that transition was not right for you but that gender identity as a concept was suspect?

At 17, as soon as I graduated high school, I moved to Florida for nine months for an internship on a horse farm. We had very little internet access, and spent most of each day performing physical labor, so I was forced to focus on something apart from trans ideology. Being disconnected from social media, specifically Tumblr and YouTube, allowed me to slowly begin rediscovering myself and my interests and by the time I returned home, I had matured (emotionally, physically, and mentally) enough to return to these social media sites with a critical eye. I found radical feminist blogs, the messages of which resonated with me, and gradually moved away from my trans identity with the support of this new community.

What appealed to you about the radical feminist blogs? What were they saying that resonated with you?

Radical feminism, being focused on women’s issues and liberation, was a breath of fresh air for me in many ways. The people writing about it online were fiercely protective of women and passionate about enacting change. The main points that appealed to me were their acceptance and celebration of lesbian and bisexual women, and their tendency to think critically and question problematic narratives—specifically prostitution, pornography, and, of course, transgenderism. They opened my eyes to the glaring issues behind trans activism (puberty blockers, misogyny, homophobia, women’s loss of rights, etc.), which allowed me to finally realize that I wanted nothing to do with the movement, and the best way for me to fight it was to simply exist as myself and stand up for other women. I definitely do not agree with every aspect of the ideology, but I believe it is the one of the only movements that truly cares about helping women.

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Denise, are you a radical feminist?

I like to think of myself as a “rational” feminist. Some of the tenets of radical feminism seem more ideological than logical—for example, the notion that humans are essentially “blank slates,” with all gendered behaviors being only social constructs. But there is a large body of replicated, cross-cultural scientific evidence that there is a biological basis to typical sex differences, and even some typical gendered behaviors, many of which are rooted in evolutionary selective pressures. Again, we’re talking about averages; individuals should never be assumed to be average. Being gender-atypical doesn’t mean anyone’s brain is mistakenly stuck in the wrong body. Historically, some of the more interesting, accomplished humans have been atypical for their sex. And, importantly, many—though not all—gender-atypical kids grow up to be lesbian, gay, or bisexual adults. This has long been well understood, though in the last few years, the trans movement has obscured this knowledge. There is a very real (even if unintended) risk that proto-LGB kids will be unnecessarily medicalized before they are old enough to realize and accept their sexuality. We already see many detransitioned lesbians who themselves say their difficulty accepting their sexual orientation contributed to their transient trans identification. (Of the essays I’ve written, I am perhaps most proud of the one I wrote on this subject, “The surgical suite: Modern-day closet for today’s teen lesbian”).

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Chiara, you mentioned that internalized homophobia played a role in your belief that you were trans. Why were you more comfortable identifying as a trans man than a lesbian?

In many ways, it felt easier for me to exist as a gender-conforming, “typical” man, as opposed to a gay, gender-nonconforming woman. As I mentioned in my recent interview, I think a lot of my desire to transition was based on a fantasy version of myself as a man—I was convinced that all discrimination against me would disappear as soon as I became a straight man. I also believe that our society is still largely heteronormative and somewhat homophobic, and gay people are often subjected to judgement, hate crimes, and insults. This is something many young people begin realizing in their teenage years, and it is understandably tempting to want to escape those experiences.

Did you talk to a therapist about your questions about gender identity? Did you find the therapy helpful or counterproductive?

I have been in and out of therapy for many years. It was incredibly helpful for me in many regards, and I strongly believe it should be utilized to determine factors contributing to dysphoria, before medical transition is permitted. The two long-term therapists I’ve had in the last few years have allowed me the space to explore mental health, come to terms with past events, and build the skills necessary to advance my life in the direction that I want. I hope that therapists will begin to educate themselves on both sides of gender ideology, and use this knowledge to encourage critical thinking in anyone who may be questioning a trans identity.

What were the things you think your mom got right in parenting you during the period when you identified as trans, and what do you think she got wrong? What could she have done better?

I am grateful that she never allowed medical transition, as I am sure I would have regretted it. I also appreciate that she put me in contact with a couple of detransitioned women, as well as paying for therapy for me to discuss issues behind my dysphoria.

But there were times in which I felt that my privacy was invaded, and this made it difficult for me to trust her intentions. I also had my phone taken away. While I understand that she truly felt that was for the best, I do not believe that trying to cut me off from the internet was helpful—I had multiple other ways to access it without my phone anyway, so this only caused resentment and anger on my end. I do understand that this was a very stressful time for her, but I believe that she could have been more careful about how she phrased several things, and stepped back to look at how some of her actions would impact me in the future.

Teens and their parents often have a hard time communicating with each other, even when the trans issue isn’t on the table. Were the arguments you had with your mom around this subject always counterproductive, or did she occasionally say things that stuck with you and helped you (eventually) see things differently? Conversely, do you think your mom was eventually able to understand some of what you were going through and trying to tell her?

At the time, most of our arguments did nothing to change my mind or outlook. At that point in my life, I was reluctant to change my opinions and take advice, especially from my mother. I can look back now and agree with a lot of what she expressed to me, and I do think that some things she said stuck with me and helped me to open my mind to the idea that transition was not the right path for me. I believe that she did eventually understand a lot of what I was feeling, but it was an unfamiliar topic to her at first.

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Denise, do you have any regrets? Were there any things that you wished you had done differently?

I do have regrets about how I handled some things. I was not (and am not) a perfect parent, and I think the increased stress we both experienced during that time damaged our relationship. We’d been very close pre-puberty, but along with the other garden-variety issues that arise for parents and teens weathering adolescence, the trans issue turned the stress-volume up to max. One night, when Chiara was screaming about how awful I was not to approve medical intervention, I screamed back that she should just leave. I immediately wished I hadn’t said it. She didn’t leave, and I never took any steps to kick her out, but I know how much that must have hurt and probably still does. I’ve apologized, but I still wish I could take it back because I never meant it.

Monitoring and restricting her social media and (temporarily) confiscating her phone are things I feel more conflicted about. At the time, it seemed to me that she was being inducted into a cult: the obsessive nature of her wanting “the two Ts” (testosterone and top surgery), scripted language, and a seeming refusal to examine or explore what might be underlying this (as well as a general refusal to talk to me about much of anything) resulted in my feeling desperate to know what was going on inside her, and to try to keep her safe in any way I could. Besides the rumination on being trans 24-7, her grades had dropped from As and Bs to Ds and Fs, she nearly dropped out of high school, she had drifted away from all the friends who had previously been important to her, and totally abandoned all her hobbies and interests.

In an ideal world, I would not have invaded her privacy, and I know from my own teen years how such actions feel like a huge betrayal of trust. Something similar happened to me when I myself was 17. I discovered one day that my dad had searched my closet and confiscated a baggie of marijuana I had hidden beside a diary. I still remember the burning outrage. I confronted my father and for many years could not forgive him. Now, of course, I can understand how worried he was about me and the choices I’d been making. But whether what he did was justified, or whether my similar actions with Chiara were justified? I’m not sure.

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Chiara, on the PRP website, you, Dagny, Helena, and Jesse state plainly that you all experienced rapid-onset gender dysphoria (ROGD) as described in the paper published by Dr. Lisa Littman last year, but trans activists have tried to dismiss and discredit Dr. Littman’s research, claiming it is based entirely on the claims of bigoted, transphobic parents. Why do you believe that you experienced ROGD? How would you respond to Dr. Littman’s critics?

I believe that ROGD is a very real phenomenon, because I, myself, and many others only began experiencing dysphoria around our teenage years, seemingly in response to significant changes or struggles. I did not begin to have dysphoria until I was a young teenager, and had no desire to transition until I began hearing about others doing so. I became obsessed with the idea that I was a man, and completely fixated on medical transition as the only viable option for me. Since I can look back now and understand that I would not have been happy long-term with that decision, I am very confident in Littman’s study, and believe that discrediting it as “transphobia” is wildly irresponsible. I find it very strange that trans activists see any inkling of criticism as a direct, “violent” attack.

You mentioned that you had no desire to transition until you heard about others doing so. Did your dysphoria increase the more you learned about gender identity and transition?

Absolutely. The more information I consumed on the topic, the more adamant I was that transition was right for me. Other people’s hormonal and surgical results appealed to me at the time, and I desperately wanted that for myself. It was a vicious circle: the more I watched, the more my dysphoria grew, and the more my dysphoria grew, the more I needed to “escape” in the form of this addictive media.

Why do you think so many young people—especially girls—have come to see themselves as transgender?

In many ways, it is incredibly difficult and often painful to exist as a woman in society. Dealing with harassment and strict gender roles is a daily ordeal, and media often portrays us as infantile, sexualized, and unconditionally available to men. Women are targets of assault and murder simply because of their sex—the idea of escaping that, which transitioning to male promises to provide, is very attractive.

What do you think it will take to wake people up to the harm that’s being done in the name of gender ideology?

Honestly, I think this is already starting to happen. The response to our project alone has been big (over 20K video views in the first two weeks) and overwhelmingly positive, which gives me hope that more and more people are beginning to realize the negative effects of this movement. Also, many of the young people who transitioned when the movement was beginning to really take hold a few years ago are now detransitioning, and their voices are growing in number. I am grateful to be part of a project to raise them up, because I believe those experiences are very important and should be shared in order to educate others.

Trans activists claim that only a tiny percentage of people who transition regret their transitions. Do you think the number is this low?

No, I believe that the percentage is actually fairly high. People claim that less than 3% of trans people detransition, but since detransitioners are routinely silenced and discounted, I am hesitant to accept that number as accurate. Also, this estimate generally fails to account for people who desist–that is, abandon a trans identity before taking hormones or undergoing surgery.

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Denise, do you agree?

Yes. And with organizations like Gender Spectrum promulgating immediate affirmation of youth trans identities, we’re likely to see more in the future. Plus, many who detransition don’t return to their gender therapists/MDs, nor are they being systematically tracked otherwise. And regardless of how many detransitioners there are, they matter. Their voices matter. And it shouldn’t be seen as “transphobic” or even controversial to ask that we try—as a society, as parents, as clinicians, even as trans activists—to minimize the number of people who will later feel they were harmed by believing they were trans; particularly people who were irreversibly harmed by medical intervention they later come to regret.

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Chiara, what would you say to the activists and legislators who are pushing for legislation that would make it illegal for therapists to encourage clients to explore why they feel they must transition?

I think that would be blatant malpractice. The job of a therapist is to help people overcome issues and develop the best life possible, and transition is not always the right way forward. This would also prevent therapists from digging into deeper issues behind dysphoria. If this law were to go into effect, if would only increase the number of young people who would later detransition.

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Denise, why have you decided to “come out” now?

After Chiara and her compatriots launched Pique Resilience, I realized we were in a new phase—both as mother and daughter, as well as in the greater effort to raise awareness about the complex issues to do with youth transition. Until now, it was of utmost importance to me to protect Chiara’s identity and privacy, so very little information about her was ever included in anything I wrote. Her courage in bringing her story to light has inspired me to step forward as well. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, anyway. Many families have had very similar experiences to our own, and the more of us who are able to speak publicly about our lives, the better.

I suspect detractors might claim the only reason Chiara desisted is because of something I’ve done or said to somehow cajole her into doing it; that she’ll “retransition” in the future. Or maybe: 4thWaveNow is the master puppeteer pulling the strings of the Pique Resilience Project. But Chiara is an adult, supporting herself, living on her own, making her own decisions. And I’m pretty sure the other three women in PRP are also very much their own persons! As far as our family situation, I feel quite certain that if Chiara had decided to pursue transition (and she told me she absolutely planned to, as recently as age 18), she’d have gone ahead with it. Then I’d be in the position of coming to terms with that decision, which I know I would have. She’s my child. I’ll love her no matter what she does, whether I agree with it or not.

Trans activists have worked very hard to deny the experiences and observations of families impacted by an abrupt onset of gender dysphoria. Just a couple of days ago, trans activist and writer Julia Serano penned a long Medium article, as well as a tweet thread, in which she paints ROGD as some sort of coordinated, grand conspiracy cooked up by bigoted parents and backwards clinicians. It’s strange that activists like Serano (along with many others) refuse to believe there could be some young people (the majority of them female) who identify as trans due to social contagion and other issues (which Chiara and the other women of Pique Resilience Project have eloquently talked about in their videos and social media postings). Why can’t Serano et al understand that people are talking about their own lived experiences? The fact is, if there’s any mutual effort on the part of those of us who’ve experienced or observed ROGD, it’s simply a “grand conspiracy” to tell the truth.

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Chiara, what would you say to trans activists who might claim your mother has brainwashed you into believing that you’re not trans? (They tend to say that about any parent whose kid desisted.)

Parents are often demonized, called “abusive,” and beaten down by trans activists if they dare to question whether transition is right for their child. Parents are generally not in the habit of brainwashing their children—rather, most want to protect and support them. Asking your child to think critically and consider other factors at play is not abusive, it’s just parenting. Further, I am an adult fully capable of making my own decisions and formulating my own opinions. My decision to desist was mostly due to my own experiences and research, not a result of my mother forcing an ideology.

When did you first learn that your mom was the founder of 4thWaveNow?

Just a few months ago, not long after we started Pique Resilience, and years after I desisted. I was very surprised, mainly because I had no idea that my mom was running a blog at all, let alone one of this size. I completely respect and support all the work that has gone into it; it’s become one of the largest and most-visited sites providing an alternate viewpoint, and I’m grateful for the support it gives to both young people and their parents.

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Denise, do you have anything to say to those who criticize parents when they do not immediately affirm their children’s belief that they are transgender?

One of the most pernicious things trans activists and some gender clinicians do is try to drive a wedge between young trans-identified people and their families. While there are certainly abusive parents, the vast majority of us who have serious reservations about the medicalization of our gender-atypical youth do love and care about our kids and only want the best for them. We do our best, given our own personalities and weaknesses (as well as our strengths). While the time during which Chiara believed she was trans was very difficult for us and brought out the worst in us both, I’m very grateful we have moved toward healing the rifts between us, though we have further to go. Above all, I’m very glad that Chiara and the other three intrepid women of the Pique Resilience Project have started their own effort to help young people like them.

When it comes to how this increase in young (mostly) women who believe they’re men will ultimately play out, no one knows; it’s going to unfold over the next few years and decades. But I can say this: the future of the movement to raise awareness about this issue does not belong to 4thWaveNow, or parents. It belongs to resilient young women like Chiara and her friends and colleagues. They are the ones who will make the world a better place for their generation and the next generation of gender-atypical young people to come.

Acts of love

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by Inga Berenson

It was a hot summer morning. I was nine or ten, riding my pony from our farmhouse toward the barn where my father was working. This was the first time I had gone riding since a string of bad falls had caused me to lose my nerve, but I loved riding, and was determined to be back in the saddle.

So far, things were going well. The gravel road between our house and the barn was about a mile long, and I was halfway there. My usually cantankerous little mare was being perfectly docile, but I was approaching the house of a quirky neighbor who kept a menagerie of animals – donkeys, zebras, buffalo, and a gaggle of dogs that barked at every passing car. I was mostly worried about the dogs and how my pony would handle the barking – it sometimes made her nervous, but there was no dog in sight as I rode past the house.

I was thinking I was home-free until I heard a commotion from the paddock across from the neighbor’s house. I looked around and saw a giant draft horse push through a dilapidated wire fence and come galloping toward me, neighing and grunting in what I later understood to be equine lust. In an instant he was beside us, rearing and pawing his great, hairy hooves in the air near my face. I thought that was the end of me and my pony.

Then all of a sudden I heard my mother’s voice. I looked around and found her running toward us, yelling and hurling gravel at the big horse. She distracted him just long enough for me to hop off. My pony raced off into the safety of some low-hanging trees, and the neighbor came running out of his house to capture his oversized horse.

As I stood there, weak-kneed from my near-death experience, I saw my mother’s car parked a few yards down the road, the driver’s-side door still open, and I knew what had happened. She had been worried about me, so she had followed from a distance, just to be sure I made it okay.

rearing horse

Illustration by Chiara (Twitter: @chiaracanaan)

I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately. It was about four years ago that my daughter first told me she thought she might be trans. I believe her story is a classic example of social contagion, since she had never expressed any discomfort with her sexed body until she got Tumblr and DeviantArt accounts and began spending all her time on her phone. Since then, I have felt a bit like my mother, standing in the middle of the road, hurling gravel, trying to protect my daughter from an ideology that has sought to convince her that she was born in the wrong body.

I am fortunate. Unlike some of my friends with kids who became convinced they were trans, I feel reasonably confident that my daughter will not medically transition. She desisted from a social transition more than a year ago, and she told me recently that she no longer identifies as trans. However, she still has many friends in the gender-queer community, and I know we’re not out of the woods. When she turns 18 in a few months, she may exercise her right as a legal adult to start medical transition, and there won’t be anything I can do to dissuade her. This worries me greatly. So, as a matter of self-preservation as much as anything, I’ve been asking myself, what if she does transition? How will I cope?

The short answer is I don’t know, but I certainly won’t disown her or ask her to leave my home. In fact, of all the many gender-critical parents I know who have trans-identified children, I know absolutely no one who has disowned their child or kicked them out of the house. I’m sure it must happen, but I don’t know any. Of course, all parents say things they regret – especially during the highly charged arguments with teens who are demanding immediate medical interventions. In one such argument, one of my best friends even told her then-trans-identified daughter to get out, but she immediately regretted it, took it back, apologized, and asked her daughter to stay (which she did). I also know at least three mothers who have lost contact with their trans-identified children, but in those cases, the kids themselves severed the relationship, not the parents. In fact, the mothers continue to try to reconnect with their children, despite being repeatedly rebuffed.

Although I know I won’t disown or reject my daughter, I also know that I won’t affirm her decision to transition. It’s not really that I’m deciding not to; I simply cannot bring myself to do it. It would be dishonest for me to call her my son when I don’t believe she’s male. Plus, I don’t think it’s helpful for me to allow my daughter to dictate how I define words like “male” and “female.” Does this mean I love my child less than the mothers who affirm their children?

Since I cannot occupy the mind of any of these other mothers, I guess I’ll never know. But I do know that my love for my child is so deep and strong that the idea that she has been misled to believe that her body is wrong depresses me to no end. I am angry — bitterly, bitterly angry that this ideology has taken up almost four years of her life so far and god only know how many more years it may take.

Maybe the reason some parents affirm their children’s transgender claims and some parents question them lies in the parents’ own experiences of puberty. When my daughter felt embarrassed about shopping for bras at 13, I was not surprised because I remembered that feeling vividly. I hated it. I hated knowing that people could see my developing breasts and the outline of the bra straps under my shirt. I especially hated the very feminine bras – the ones with lots of lace and little pink bows where the cups joined in the middle. They made me feel vulnerable and exposed and miserable.  I also know I got over it – for the most part, anyway.

Trans activists claim that the number of trans-identifying people has increased so rapidly not because there are more trans people today than in the past but because society has become more accepting and they are no longer afraid to come out. But if this were the case, why are the greatest increases occurring in the population of female teens? Why aren’t middle-aged women like me queuing up for hormones now that we can come out? To me, the answer is clear. Women like me had a chance to come to terms with our bodies and accept ourselves as we are. My daughter didn’t have that chance because an insidious ideology was waiting in the wings to convince her that her feelings about her body meant that it was wrong.

But maybe the mothers who readily affirm their children’s trans self-diagnoses didn’t have this experience at puberty. Maybe they were lucky enough to sail smoothly and happily from childhood through puberty, unambiguously pleased to watch their bodies go from child to woman – so, when their children expressed unhappiness about their developing bodies, they were genuinely puzzled and could only agree their kids must have been born in the wrong body.

Whatever the reason for the difference between those parents and me, I resent the fact that the mainstream media will tell their stories, but they won’t tell mine. I resent the fact that my daughter looks at those parents and wishes I could be like them — because I never can be.

If my daughter does eventually decide to take hormones or undergo surgery to medically transition, the only way I could fully support it is if I had clear scientific evidence that she had a condition requiring such an invasive treatment. If there were a definitive medical test – a brain scan, for example – that proved my child’s distress arose from an incongruence between her brain and the rest of her body that could only be alleviated by transition, I think I could go along with it. But there is no such test because individual brains don’t break down neatly into pink and blue categories. Sexually dimorphic brain features are subject to averages just like other physical characteristics. In general, men are taller than women, but if you plot their height on a bell curve, you will see lots of overlap between the sexes. You’ll also see outliers on the “tails” of the bell curve—6’4’ women, and 5’1” men. This is true with psychological and neurological traits, too. Also, trans activists justify their born-in-the-wrong-body claims by pointing to a few studies which indicate that the brains of trans-identified people are more similar in some respects to the opposite sex than their natal sex. But these studies do not control for many factors, including sexual orientation, and we know already that people who are same-sex-attracted have some brain features more similar to the opposite sex.

Without tools to reliably predict who will benefit from transition, I simply cannot support medical interventions for young people whose brains have not fully matured (generally understood to be around age 25). I want desperately for my daughter to accept her body and to avoid the irreversible changes and the many health risks that are inherent in medical transition. But she will soon be 18 years old, and she will have the power to transition no matter what I want – even though she is still at least seven years away from brain maturity. There’s a real chance that she could. Would that be the end of the world?

No, I know that it wouldn’t. As worried as I am about this outcome and as fixated as I’ve been on preventing it for four years, I do have to remind myself that her transitioning would not be the worst thing that could happen. Plus, I will still be able to hold onto the hope that she will detransition before the hormones can cause too much damage to her long-term health. Every day it seems that I read about a new detransitioner. More and more young people are saying enough is enough. They are reclaiming their bodies and their lives, and I find their stories inspiring.

A few days ago I watched a video in which four young women, who formerly identified as trans, answer questions about their experience and share their insights. Their video gave me hope for a couple of reasons. First, they acknowledge the role that social contagion plays in driving the huge increase in kids (especially girls) who are identifying as trans today. It takes real courage to speak up and share stories that contradict the popular understanding of why people transition. These stories not only challenge the narrative of why people transition; they also show that, for many young people, transition does not make their lives better.

But another reason that video gave me hope is that I can see these girls are all okay. In fact, they’re better than okay. They are strong and smart, and they are living with purpose and a sense of future. They reminded me that transition – even medical transition — is not the end of the world. Three of the girls were on hormones for more than a year. Their voices are changed, but they are healthy and well, and that’s a beautiful thing.

Detransitioners have been giving hope to me and other parents for many years, but the relationship between the groups has been difficult at times. Some detransitioners have understandably resented how parents sometimes try to use their stories as cautionary tales to warn their kids about the dangers of medical transition. A big part of the problem is the language people sometimes use when talking about medical transition. For example, referring to the bodies of detransitioners as “mutilated,” their voices as “broken,” or their stories as “heart-breaking” has not been helpful.

One of the most powerful and positive messages of the gender-critical movement is that no one is born in the wrong body. Gender-critical parents like me are constantly trying to encourage our kids to accept their bodies just as they are. Yet I believe we need to extend that same acceptance to all bodies – even bodies post transition. To feel good about themselves and their lives, all people need to be able to accept themselves physically and mentally, and words like “mutilated” don’t help them do that.

Online, the interactions between detransitioners and parents has also been a little rocky at times because parents sometimes overstep boundaries that detransitioners need to be healthy. Parents often reach out to detransitioners for help with their personal situations – to seek parenting advice and guidance. But most detransitioners who speak out publicly are quite young; they don’t have children and they aren’t parenting experts, nor is it fair to saddle them with the responsibility of helping us. They’re dealing with their own issues, are often most focused on helping each other, and they don’t (and can’t be expected to) understand the situation and struggles of parents. What’s more, many have written or vlogged about their own, often fraught, relationships with their own parents, so when other parents reach out to them, they can feel “triggered” by being reminded of their own family relationships. These young people are still maturing and processing what their transition and detransition mean to them. They need time and space to be able to do that, and desperate appeals from parents they’ve never met, for help with kids they don’t know, could interfere with that process.

Also, detransitioners are not a monolithic group. Not everyone who detransitions regrets transitioning. Deciding that transition is not right for you and regretting transition are not necessarily the same thing. Detransitioners who do not regret their transition naturally resent it when people use their stories to make a case against medical transition.

At the same time, those detransitioners who are willing to speak out about the harms of transitioning and the power of reidentifying with your birth sex can be powerful allies in the fight to raise awareness about the regressiveness of gender ideology and potential harms to other young people – whether we’re trying to raise this awareness in the culture at large or just in our own homes. I hope my daughter will listen to the stories of some of these detransitioners and decide to first try some other strategies for becoming comfortable in her natural body.

If, however, she does eventually transition, I hope she can be honest with herself about it and accept that she can never be male – however much she may be able to look like one. I follow several gender-critical trans women on Twitter. Although they have sought medical intervention for palliative reasons, they acknowledge they are male and support sex-based protections for women. They don’t demand that the world repeat the mantra that trans women are women. They have a healthier outlook on the world and a healthier sense of self because they aren’t trying to change anyone’s perception of material reality (like male and female).  I appreciate the courage they are showing. Their stance as gender critical has cut them off from the support of the larger trans community, which regards them as heretics and traitors. And it must be noted that they’re not universally accepted among women who are gender critical, some of whom regard them with suspicion.

Of course, my daughter may never come to recognize the bill of goods she’s been sold. She may transition, remain transitioned, and remain committed to an ideology I find regressive. If that’s the case, it will be my life’s task to love her and support her in spite of these things. But that doesn’t mean I will ever abandon my own sense of reality, because doing so would be inauthentic, and parents should not have to subordinate their own authenticity to their children’s quest for it.

What I can do is look after her, help her financially to achieve non-transition-related goals, cook her favorite foods, hold her hand when she’s feeling down. I can even go out of my way to avoid gendered language so as not to provoke or upset her, but I simply cannot utter beliefs I don’t hold. Our relationship needs to be based on mutual respect. I must respect her autonomy, but she must also respect mine.

Also, I want my daughter to understand that it’s ok for other people (even her parents!) to disagree with her and hold different views; that doesn’t mean we don’t love her. Far from it. I want my daughter to be strong and resilient enough to face the reality that life will be full of other people who disagree with her for any number of reasons. I’d rather she learn resilience than fragility that is triggered whenever she encounters disagreement or disapproval from others.

I feel such a sense of solidarity with the other gender-critical moms I’ve met here on 4thWaveNow, on Twitter, and in real life because they’ve seen what I have seen – that this ideology has made our children less resilient, it has alienated them from their families, their former friends, and, worst of all, their own bodies. Most of us have watched as our children went from well-adjusted kids to teens preoccupied with online worlds, feeling oppressed and seeking medical transition.

For our efforts to call attention to the regressive nature of the ideology, we have been called “bigots,” “transphobes,” even “Nazis.” So-called gender therapists gaslight us and pretend to know our children better than we do. And some journalists, blind to their sexism, have dismissed us (in one case, as merely a “bunch of mothers”), despite the advanced degrees and professional careers many of us hold, not to mention the voluminous research we have done to educate ourselves about this particular subject.

And, yes, we have made mistakes. We are certainly not perfect. There are so many things I have said to my daughter that I wish I could unsay or at least say differently. There are so many times when my strong emotional reaction to things she was telling me created a barrier and shut down communication between us. Of course, she has said things that hurt me too, but as her mother and the adult in the relationship, I rightfully bear a larger share of the burden to try to make things right between us.

I can’t change the past, of course. What’s done is done. But I do know this: My mother has been dead for more than 20 years, but I think about her every day. She was far from a perfect parent, but she loved me fiercely. The love she gave me in the first 30 years of my life still sustains me today. I know that now, in a way I didn’t fully understand when I was younger.

I don’t know what the future holds for my daughter. My fervent hope is that she will reject the idea that she needs to change who she is, but whether or not she does, I hope one day she will look back on my resistance to her transition as the act of love that it is. I hope that her knowledge and memory of the fierceness of my love will sustain her, as my mother’s sustains me.