Identity Crisis: Breaking Free from the Transgender Contagion
I was 14 when doctors told me it was ‘transition or die.’ They never mentioned the irreversible harm. I’m one of the lucky ones who escaped—others lost healthy breasts and fertility forever.
Επισκόπηση
Simon Amaya Price recounts how childhood bullying and sexual assault led him to embrace a trans identity at 14, with every adult—from Boston Children’s Hospital therapists to his pediatrician—immediately affirming and pushing medical transition. After years of social transition and “cracking eggs” among classmates, the social rewards vanished when he was cancelled in college, forcing him to confront the cult-like ideology and detransition. Now he speaks out to spare others irreversible harm and carries deep guilt for having helped popularise transition in his school.
Πλήρης Περίληψη Βίντεο
Simon Amaya Price begins by recalling that he was the first boy at his suburban-Boston private high school to identify as transgender. By the time his class graduated, roughly one-sixth of the boys in his grade had adopted a trans identity, and he believes he was “patient zero” who helped popularize the idea. Simon traces his own path back to early childhood: he was an extroverted, happy kid until kindergarten, when daily physical beatings left him anxious and withdrawn. In middle school the bullying turned verbal—he was taunted with homophobic slurs—and in ninth grade he finally found a friend group of girls, only to have them suddenly cut him off. A week or two later, on a school trip to see the musical Fun Home, an older boy sexually assaulted him. Feeling alienated from his body and desperate for support, Simon joined the school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, where instead of discussing homophobia the club watched ContraPoints videos and filled out the “gender unicorn” worksheet. Online searches convinced him that his social discomfort, depression, and bodily unease were best explained by gender dysphoria, and at fourteen he told his Boston Children’s Hospital therapist he was “really a girl.” She immediately affirmed him and referred him to the gender clinic. Although Simon’s father refused to let him attend the clinic—an act Simon once resented but now calls lifesaving—every other adult he encountered reinforced the narrative that medical transition was necessary. Therapists, a psychopharmacologist, and even his lifelong pediatrician offered only affirmation, never discussing risks. He internalized the “dead son / living daughter” trope so completely that he believed he would die if he did not start hormones. At college he socially transitioned, used they/them pronouns, and found that people treated him “better,” which he took as confirmation he was truly female inside. Yet the social dynamics were paramount: if peers had not celebrated trans identities, he doubts he would have persisted. He also admits to “cracking eggs”—spotting vulnerable classmates and persuading them they were trans—because he genuinely believed he was saving them from lifelong misery. The turning point came during his first year at Berklee College of Music, an environment plastered with posters advertising “gender-affirming care.” After he criticized affirmative action in a seminar, the professor demanded an apology; Simon refused, failed the class, and was “cancelled.” Overnight, the community that had adored him as trans turned hostile. Stripped of social rewards and forced to examine his motives, he realized the only remaining reason to medically transition was external validation. Rejecting that as “stupid,” he concluded he had spent years in an ideological cult. Detransitioning was gradual—he lost friends, a girlfriend, and had to transfer schools—but by spring he had returned to living as Simon, simply accepting that he is male. He now feels profound guilt for encouraging others to transition and has made it his mission to speak out, hoping to spare more young people irreversible medical harm. Parents have already contacted him to say his testimony helped their children desist, and he declares that even if he died tomorrow, knowing he had helped even one family would let him “die a happy man.”