Why I Decided To Transition And Then Detransition
I created a trans identity to escape trauma, took testosterone, loved the changes—then the pandemic hit. Alone in my bathroom I asked: what if the dysphoria was dissociation? One comforting thought surfaced: I don’t have to stay on hormones forever.
概述
Lisa, who publicly transitioned from female to male and chronicled it in a documentary, began questioning her identity during 2020’s lockdown. Realising her dysphoria might stem from childhood sexual abuse and dissociation, she stopped testosterone, restarted once for a relationship, then quit again. She now experiments with feminine presentation while sharing her non-linear detransition journey to add nuance to trans narratives.
完整视频摘要
Lisa begins by explaining that she is making this video to answer the flood of questions she has received about why she transitioned and, more recently, why she has decided to detransition. She emphasizes that the idea of detransition had lingered in the back of her mind almost from the moment she started hormones, but it crystallized during the isolation of the 2020 pandemic. While alone in her bathroom one day, she experienced what she describes as a sudden re-association with her body, accompanied by the thought, “What if I dissociated so much from my trauma that I created this identity, ESSA?” The relief she felt at the next thought—“I don’t have to continue being on hormones”—was so strong that she took it as a sign she could stop testosterone and still be herself. She notes that the pressure of having publicly documented her transition in a documentary made the realization frightening, yet she ultimately chose to stop hormones cold-turkey, with medical guidance, and to explore presenting in a more feminine way. Lisa’s detransition has been neither linear nor painless. After four months off testosterone she experienced her first full period in nearly five years, accompanied by intense cramps and emotional swings. During that same period she entered a romantic relationship with a cis woman; the familiar gender roles felt comfortable, so she resumed hormones and masculine presentation. When the relationship ended, she once again discontinued testosterone, and at the time of filming she had been off hormones for six weeks. She stresses that she is now taking the process “day by day,” experimenting with makeup, wigs, and feminine clothing to see what feels authentic, and intends to share physical and emotional updates with her audience. Turning to why she transitioned in the first place, Lisa recounts a childhood in which she was a classic tomboy—playing sports with boys, wearing boys’ clothes, and resisting her mother’s wish for a more feminine daughter. Puberty brought acute discomfort: at 12, when her shirt clung to her developing chest in the rain, she felt such shame that she left a festival and went home. She links this bodily unease to the sexual abuse she endured from a family member from early childhood until age 13, acknowledging that the trauma may have amplified her dysphoria. At 17, her first partner came out as trans, introducing her to the concept; Tumblr and online communities filled in the rest. Although she never felt a perfect fit with the standard trans narrative, she intermittently wore a binder for three years before concluding that testosterone was the only way to masculinize the body she could not accept. Therapy at the time did not delve deeply into her trauma, and she faults no one—herself included—for pursuing what felt like the right path. The first year on testosterone was “amazing”: she loved the physical changes, felt confident, and found community support. Lisa closes by underscoring that her story is personal and not intended to invalidate anyone else’s journey. She invites respectful questions, promises future updates on her detransition, and encourages viewers to share her documentary so that more nuanced narratives can enter the public conversation.