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Eli K. [she/he] started her gender transition in 2011 after a childhood and youth of gender dysphoria. In 2016, she strayed away from a binary gender identity and embarked on her detransition journey.

What You Will Find When You Detransition

Oh, how I wish detransitioning were a path to a long-lost home, a final confrontation with your Oedipal entanglements and pitfalls, the reveal of an ugly truth which you were blind to for too long. It is not. One of the reasons why detransitioners so vigorously claim to have found “their true sex” is that living in a very “valid”, very “affirmed” gender identity for a few years or so and then losing everything is unbearable. You’re literally left with nothing, and with so much to mourn. Cis people, this strange little group who believe that their gender identity is as plain and round as the disc of the sun rising every day, can’t imagine how empowering it is to realize one’s own inner world on one’s own body. We, the detransitioners, are Ikarus losing his wax wings.

I had the doubtful fate of not crashing on the rocks. I lived. I landed in the sea and emerged like a breastless Venus. What I found now was beyond depressing: suddenly, I started to see everyone’s seams and stitches. I understood that gender, like faith or love, exists only to those who believe. But unlike those unsatisfied, angry ones who have found a new religion in what they call “biology”, I, the biologist, abandoned all Gods. My holes and erectile tissues, my uterine lining, the silent machinery of hormone production: I see them, I appreciate them, so to speak. I made my peace with my body when I understood that whatever happened to me happened to me for reasons out of my control, and for reasons that aren’t bound to this very flesh I am carrying.

My body was never the problem. This world’s lies were.