“There’s No Right Way To Transition”: These Six Gender Journeys Challenge Trump’s ‘Detransition’ Myth

I learned about gender from queer punk kids. Right after I got kicked out for being queer, I found my way to a queer youth drop-in center in Portland, Oregon. In the kitchen, where everyone was allowed to eat the free boxed food, were signs with information about how to prevent overdoses, reminders to wash your dishes, and a big whiteboard divided into three categories: 

Old Name

New Name 

Pronouns

We all checked that whiteboard every day, sometimes updating our own names or pronouns, and always checking on our friends. We knew that gender was fluid and always changing. It was queer punks who took me in when I got kicked out, when I was sure I’d never have a home or family again, when even the thought of seeing my 20th birthday felt impossibly far away. It was queer punks who took me to thrift stores and helped me find clothes that would fit me in the bottom of free boxes. It was punks who taught me how to bind my chest, and who taught me the secret code phrases we all needed to use back then to access hormones before they were available on an informed consent model. 

These punks cheered me on like I had just scored a touchdown when I started injecting testosterone, and in a way, I had. For the first time in my life, I was empowered to make my body my own, a win so much bigger than I had ever imagined possible growing up in a highly abusive and homophobic environment. I was just barely nineteen when I started injecting testosterone, but I knew that my gender journey wasn’t designed to be linear. When the Trump administration started attacking transgender people, I was not surprised that one of the first executive orders went after nonbinary gender designation, telling us that there were only two real genders. Similarly, I was not surprised when they went after gender-affirming care for those up to the age of 19,  the age I was when I had already begun playing with gender and making empowered choices about my body. 

I was filled with rage this month when, amidst all the defunding of queer issues and the targeting of transgender people, the Trump administration decided they would be researching transgender regret. Not only was I angry because of the cuts to legitimate research helping trans people have better lives, I was also concerned that the queer experiences of those of us whose transition journeys have not been linear could and would be used to fuel transphobic ideas of transition regret. 

Although the Trump administration has latched onto an idea of “detransitioners” regretting the decision to transition, or children transitioning and later regretting those choices, this simply is not based in reality. There are not large numbers of trans people regretting the choices that we have made to alter our bodies.  1% of people regret transitioning, a statistically small number of people, and a lower regret rate than culturally unquestioned procedures like knee surgery. In the over two decades that I have been part of the trans community, I have known so many people who have had nonlinear transitions who had surgery and then shifted presentation, or gone on and off of hormones. But I’ve never met anyone who regretted the path their gender has taken them down. 

Related: Donald Trump Can’t Erase Our Gender: Nonbinary Thoughts In MAGA America

I was struggling with the transphobic rhetoric circling our community and the hateful and incorrect fear-mongering that has seeped into classrooms, workplaces, homes, and our government on every level. So I reached out to other trans/genderqueer/nonbinary people whose gender journey has not been binary to discuss the joy we have found in fluidity, and concerns about how our stories could be misused by the Trump administration.

Evan Smith (she/he/they) identifies as a masc of center Trans Butch and lives in Niagara, Canada. “I have absolutely no regrets about my journey other than allowing other people’s expectations to dictate how I presented myself to the world,” they tell GO.  “It has been joyful for me to know that I have explored my gender so much that I know for sure that where I have landed is exactly where I need to be right now.” They go on to say,  “There is a lot of narrative right now about ‘transition regret,’ but I think it’s important for people to know that just because someone ‘detransitions’ or ‘transitions further,’ which I prefer to call it, that it isn’t necessarily out of regret. Sometimes it’s just about exploration and discovering how you are most comfortable.” 

The idea of transitioning further, or having a nonbinary transition, is language that many of us utilize to think about the ways we have altered our bodies with hormones and surgeries to fit how we understand our gender, not to fit into the box of “male” or “female.” Johnny Blaze (he/they), a genderqueer, transmasculine boi/lesboy in California, explains that what they have determined is, “There is no right way to transition. It isn’t ‘all or nothing.’ Currently, I feel most satisfied with the changes I experienced from HRT [Hormone Replacement Therapy], but do not see myself continuing to use [it] for life. Some have considered it detransitioning, I consider it part of life’s ‘create a character’ that I can mod however suits me.”  

Transitioning is not always a linear process. While some people have had a very linear story of transition, many of us have identities that fall outside of the gender binary. I came out at 17 in the early 2000s as genderqueer. I knew I wouldn’t have a linear transition and that, for example, using hormones was one way that I would masculinize my body, but not a permanent choice I was making. At the time, I didn’t have many examples of this kind of gender fluid life, but I leaned on the depictions I did have, Trans elders like Kate Bornstein and Leslie Feinberg, who spoke about a life outside of the binary. 

“The older I get, the less I am concerned with following the rules or doing what other people expect. And that feels good. I get a lot of joy from moving in the world in a way that challenges people’s assumptions about how gender works,” explains Galen (they/them), a genderqueer, nonbinary, transmasc queer femme from Minnesota. Living outside the gender binary is home for many of us and, despite the increased political pressures to not stand out and even to “detransition,” queer and trans people who can’t and won’t blend into cisgender heteronormative culture are continuing to live our authentic lives despite the politically motivated transphobia that surrounds us. 

Wulf Roby (they/them) a Two Spirit, nonbinary, intersex, asexual/aromantic person in Kansas explains that they have “always identified as “other” – tomboy, butch, nonbinary, etc. “However, I presented, which varied by day sometimes, there were many times where others were surprised and unable to parse that I was the same person (and still they/them) regardless of how I looked,” Roby tells GO. “After presenting as a woman for most of my life, I medically transitioned to a more masculine presentation and lived as ostensibly male for about a decade. At 40, I’ve been openly myself for so long it’s more surprising when someone doesn’t recognize me.” 

Related: Suicide Prevention For LGBTQ+ Youth Is On The Chopping Block In Trump Budget

The joy in knowing who and what you are and the ability to adjust your body to align with those identities is something that trans/genderqueer/nonbinary people know better than anyone. “I love that through my gender journey, I’ve learned not to get hung up on needing to be exclusively masculine or feminine. The joy of self-expression, expansion, and awareness through both my gender journey and various iterations in presentation has facilitated a deep sense of self-comfort. And knowing that truly is irreplaceable,” explains Asher (they/them) from Toronto, who identifies as gender fluid. Everyone’s gender journey is different and unique. There is no right or wrong way to transition, contrary to the current narrative being put forth by the Trump administration. As we push back on transphobic policies, it’s more important than ever that our community doesn’t simplify gender into a binary to try and appease those in power. “My only regret was ever feeling the need to pass in a cis-centered society. The fear held me back from expressing myself and exploring my options. I’m happy to be away from that, even if there is more fear around how I’m perceived. I can’t care about that if my happiness and health are at risk,” Blaze explains. 

We are living in challenging times where trans lives are being used as political fodder and real people are being hurt, losing access to healthcare, jobs, and legal identifying documents like passports that reflect who we are. “All this political grandstanding sure makes it seem like people care an awful lot about how gender happens for us– as someone who has lived on a sliding scale of gender presentation for decades, in day-to-day life, most people notice a lot less than you’d think. They’re just bad at identifying gender, even when it’s their own ideas and social norms they’re using as a guideline,” Roby notes. 

Now more than ever I believe it’s important for queer and trans people to take control of our stories, to live our lives proudly, and not allow our stories to be misused to further Trump’s anti-trans agenda. “The dominant narrative around restricting kids’ right to transition is the fear of ‘transition regret’, but it’s entirely possible *if* they decide not to continue transitioning, that they can discontinue—no harm done. It’s a false narrative being used to control trans bodies,” Smith says.  

The world of gender has changed so much since I walked into a queer youth center for the first time and wrote my old name, my new name, and my pronouns of the day on that white board. During a recent episode of Celebrity Big Brother UK, JoJo Siwa disclosed feeling like they are nonbinary and has been met with tremendous support from across the internet. That kind of representation is something I never imagined would be possible in my queer lifetime. I’m more grateful than ever for every trans person of the past, present, and future who has carved out a body that feels like home and who has shown up as their authentic self. We have always existed, we will always exist, and our stories will not be erased or manipulated. While the idea of this pervasive “detransitioning” myth being put out by politicians makes for a catchy headline, it just isn’t the reality, even for those of us who transitioned young, and whose journeys have been more fabulous than binary.