My Penis Is Gone Forever
I call it a wound, not a vagina… every bowel movement felt like shitting razor blades or broken glass for four years.
Overview
Alexander, a 30-year-old Norwegian, began medical transition at 19 after childhood bullying for being “not masculine enough,” culminating in a penile-inversion vaginoplasty at 21. The surgery left him with chronic pain, rectal bleeding for four years, and penetrative sex impossible; he calls the result “a wound, not a vagina.” After three years living as a trans woman he detransitioned, now warning that gay youth are being pushed toward irreversible surgery instead of accepting homosexuality, and argues therapy—not hormones—should be the first-line treatment for gender dysphoria.
Full Video Summary
Alexander, a 30-year-old Norwegian man originally from Poland, spent three years living as a trans woman after beginning social and medical transition at 19. In a candid interview he explains that the decision grew out of a childhood in which he was relentlessly bullied for being “not masculine enough.” Classmates in his small, macho Eastern-European town called him slurs, mocked his small, “feminine” hands, and told him he would never be a “real man” or get a girlfriend. Those taunts, combined with an early, visceral hatred of his genitals and a compulsive, self-harming level of masturbation once puberty arrived, convinced him that life would be easier if he abandoned manhood altogether. He found immediate affirmation on early-2000s trans forums such as Susan’s Place, began estrogen at 19, and after only a few months of counseling underwent a penile-inversion vaginoplasty with scrotal graft. The surgery, performed in 2014 when he was 21, left him with what he bluntly calls “a wound, not a vagina.” Because he stopped dilating almost immediately, the cavity closed, making penetrative sex impossible; the neovagina sits so close to the rectum that anal sex risks perforation, and the scalpel had nicked his anal sphincter, so “every bowel movement felt like shitting razor blades or broken glass” for roughly four years. He bled rectally throughout 2015-16, avoided doctors out of shame, and still experiences sharp pain when he runs or lifts anything heavy. A benign wrist tumor that appeared two years ago further limits the use of his right arm, a reminder, he says, that “I absolutely hated that part of my body and now it’s gone forever.” Alexander emphasizes that no outside ideology “pushed” him into transition; rather, he sought relief from dysphoria, shame and internalized homophobia. Yet after three years on estrogen and living as a woman he realized he was “still not a woman,” and that chasing surgical fixes was amplifying, not quieting, his distress. He quietly detransitioned in his mid-20s, told acquaintances he was “intersex” to explain his altered appearance, and carried the secret alone for years. Only in 2023 did he begin speaking publicly, motivated by concern that gay adolescents—especially effeminate boys and masculine girls—are now being channeled toward medical transition instead of being helped to accept homosexuality or gender non-conformity. He frames early-transition activism as a new form of conversion therapy and argues that therapy, not hormones, should be the first-line treatment for gender dysphoria. Today Alexander lives a celibate, philosophically anarchist life, hosts a small YouTube channel, and is writing a book on technology, power and transhumanism. He does not “identify” as a man in any ideological sense—“I’m just a biological male who is done with gender”—and he welcomes any pronouns, joking that “I and me” are sufficient because “I’m not schizophrenic.” While he insists he does not want to ban transition for adults, he wants detrans stories like his to be visible so that young people can hear the full range of outcomes before making irreversible decisions.