You see, most transgender people like myself are in the closet without a need to come out, and we live our lives without knowing what is happening within transgender politics. I just happened to get deathly ill from my transition, and it forced me to see what was happening. In one afternoon I read the Swedish study and learned about a transwoman who shot herself in the head at nineteen, leaving a note that she could not have children and now realized she was gay man who no longer wanted to live with her broken body. I wailed the same way Bee did that night she told me about her conversion therapy. I felt a burden land on my shoulders that has given me a recurring nightmare.
The nightmare starts with a transman in his 20s dialing his parents through sobs: “Mom, I can’t have kids, I wear diapers, no one wants to date me, and my choices for a life partner are slashed by 90%. The doctor just told me I have early-onset osteoporosis, and I will be dependent on drugs for the rest of my life. Mom, I was a lesbian and a kid; why did you let me do this to my body? I am now trapped in the wrong body.”
The child’s mom tries to comfort her daughter through the phone but hears a boom as the 357 magnum sends a bullet through her child’s brain.
Have you ever heard a mother screaming, knowing her child just died? I hear it every night as I jump out of bed; the sound will NEVER leave me.