{"title":"Why society should embrace the apparent “rise” in transgender youth","authors":"Jame A. Agapoff","doi":"10.1080/19359705.2022.2117753","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"Puberty for a non-binary, transgender person is hell. When I began puberty in the mid-1990s, I didn’t have the language to describe my internal experience. The internet was still in its infancy and my vocabulary didn’t include words like non-binary or genderqueer. Among my adolescent peers, “gay” was a slur, and to be openly homosexual or transgender was to be an outcast. Add to that gender dysphoria magnified by a changing body, and you can begin to imagine my experience. At the onset of puberty, my concept of being transgender was squarely trapped in the gender binary. A transgender person was someone who transitioned from one gender to the other, not someone like me who didn’t strongly identify with either gender. This made the physical changes I experienced very distressing. I began growing hair where I didn’t want it and experiencing other physical changes that did not align with my gender identity. This resulted in failing grades, missed classes, and clinical levels of depression. My desire to postpone puberty led me to a physician on the internet who agreed to prescribe me progesterone, which I paid for by working a weekend job. This was the first time since puberty began that I gained any sense of internal control over the physical and emotional changes I was experiencing. My grades and mood improved, and I began to see a future for myself beyond my dysphoria. And yet, I never told my parents, teachers, or friends about my dysphoria or that I was on hormones. It was just not socially accepted. I continued with this treatment for about a year and even discussed surgical options with my provider. Ultimately, I stopped hormone blockers for health concerns, and despite developing the secondary sexual characteristics of a man, I began experimenting with other forms of gender expression such as hairstyle and dress that improved my dysphoria. It wasn’t until college I found the courage to share my sexuality and gender https://doi.org/10.1080/19359705.2022.2117753","PeriodicalId":46675,"journal":{"name":"Journal of Gay & Lesbian Mental Health","volume":"1 1","pages":"338 - 340"},"PeriodicalIF":1.9000,"publicationDate":"2022-09-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Journal of Gay & Lesbian Mental Health","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.1080/19359705.2022.2117753","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"Q3","JCRName":"PSYCHIATRY","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0
Abstract
Puberty for a non-binary, transgender person is hell. When I began puberty in the mid-1990s, I didn’t have the language to describe my internal experience. The internet was still in its infancy and my vocabulary didn’t include words like non-binary or genderqueer. Among my adolescent peers, “gay” was a slur, and to be openly homosexual or transgender was to be an outcast. Add to that gender dysphoria magnified by a changing body, and you can begin to imagine my experience. At the onset of puberty, my concept of being transgender was squarely trapped in the gender binary. A transgender person was someone who transitioned from one gender to the other, not someone like me who didn’t strongly identify with either gender. This made the physical changes I experienced very distressing. I began growing hair where I didn’t want it and experiencing other physical changes that did not align with my gender identity. This resulted in failing grades, missed classes, and clinical levels of depression. My desire to postpone puberty led me to a physician on the internet who agreed to prescribe me progesterone, which I paid for by working a weekend job. This was the first time since puberty began that I gained any sense of internal control over the physical and emotional changes I was experiencing. My grades and mood improved, and I began to see a future for myself beyond my dysphoria. And yet, I never told my parents, teachers, or friends about my dysphoria or that I was on hormones. It was just not socially accepted. I continued with this treatment for about a year and even discussed surgical options with my provider. Ultimately, I stopped hormone blockers for health concerns, and despite developing the secondary sexual characteristics of a man, I began experimenting with other forms of gender expression such as hairstyle and dress that improved my dysphoria. It wasn’t until college I found the courage to share my sexuality and gender https://doi.org/10.1080/19359705.2022.2117753