PART 1: Why I DEtransitioned - School Indoctrination
At 18, Planned Parenthood handed me T like candy—no warnings on infertility, cancer risk, or irreversible damage. Five years later I’m still haunted by the prescription robocalls: ‘Your testosterone is ready.’
概述
Atreuz, once the “girliest girl,” describes how relentless bullying, early puberty and online communities pushed her to socially transition at 12 and start testosterone days after turning 18. She says her high school’s LGBT-celebratory climate acted as a gateway, while therapists and Planned Parenthood fast-tracked hormones without warning of infertility or irreversible harm. Testosterone left her emotionally flat, physically damaged and still receiving automated refill calls despite never being properly monitored.
完整影片摘要
In the first installment of her story, Atreuz recounts how she went from a “girliest girl” who adored dolls and fairy-tale romance to a 12-year-old who socially transitioned, began binding, and by 18 was injecting testosterone. She traces the roots of her dysphoria not to a single cause but to a cascade of early experiences: relentless bullying after entering kindergarten, the shock of precocious puberty at nine, and the terror of sexual rumors that followed. Already struggling with OCD and social anxiety, she felt physically and emotionally out of step with peers who were racing into sexualized adolescence while she still wanted to play with dolls. Online, she discovered gay-male fan-fiction in which boys loved boys without the “competition” and sexualization she feared; adults in trans forums told her that adopting male pronouns would let her become a “gay boy” and finally be loved for who she was. The message that “whoever doesn’t accept you doesn’t love you” drove a wedge between her and her father, who sensed the transition wasn’t authentic. Atreuz argues that her public high school—celebrated for its LGBT affirmation—functioned as a “gateway.” Teachers and classmates constantly asked, “When are you starting T?” and celebrated the first trans boy in town who had already begun hormones. She believes that without this environment she would have kept her trans identity as an online persona only. Once she voiced the wish to transition, her original therapist immediately referred her to an LGBT specialist who, she says, offered minimal assessment: after one or two sessions the therapist arranged an appointment at Planned Parenthood for the week after her 18th birthday, despite Atreuz’s stated desire to bear children and her lingering doubts. At the clinic, she recalls being handed stapled pages that listed only cosmetic effects of testosterone; fertility risks were omitted, and when she asked, the nurse told her not to worry, that she could simply stop T if she ever wanted to get pregnant. No one, she insists, warned her that the drug was experimental or that irreversible damage could occur. The medical aftermath forms the emotional climax of Part 1. Atreuz describes how testosterone quickly blunted her emotions, killed her sex drive, and left her feeling “like a zombie.” She mourned the loss of her periods—painful as they were—because they had signified the possibility of future children. When she briefly stopped T, her mood lifted and her periods returned, but social pressure and her own self-hatred pushed her back onto the drug. After dosage increases she was told she might have developed cancer or even died because her hormone levels had become dangerous, yet the clinicians, she says, spoke “as if it was my fault.” Check-ups became almost impossible to schedule, but prescriptions kept arriving; only when a new psychiatrist expressed shock that she was still receiving testosterone without monitoring did the malpractice become clear. Atreuz ends the segment by revealing that she still receives automated calls telling her “your prescription is ready,” a haunting reminder of a system she feels failed her when she was still, in her words, “a child—an 18-year-old baby.”