A Desister’s TaleLisa Selin Davis
11 Feb 2022
How many trans-identified children “desist”? That is, how many identify as transgender for a time, and then eventually stop doing so, prior to medical intervention (as distinct from detransitioners, who return to identifying with their natal sex after undergoing some form of medical transition)? The answer is that no one knows, in part because few experts are keeping track, and in part because what research does exist is highly politicized.
Some trans activists and advocates, for instance, object to the very idea of measuring “desistance” in the first place, on the argument that this approach may discourage a child from embracing a transgender identity. One Canadian trans activist and researcher insists that research in this area is simply “not relevant when deciding between models of care.” Others claim that the idea of desistance is rooted in transphobic “myth,” though research often shows otherwise.
High-end estimates of desistance tended to arise from longitudinal studies of children who first reported gender dysphoria at an early age. The vast majority of those children resolved their gender dysphoria before, or early in, puberty. In one 2021 study published in Frontiers in Psychiatry, for instance, 88 percent of boys with gender dysphoria were found to have desisted by their teens or adulthood (and more than 63 percent were same-sex attracted). These results are consistent with established research; yet, in the current ideological climate, they often are seen as suspect. That’s because the traditional “watchful waiting” approach used by clinicians to treat children who present with gender dysphoria—which tends to be associated with a high rate of desistance—has largely been supplanted by a policy of encouraging social transition, an approach associated with an increase in observed dysphoria. Indeed, several studies show that nearly all children on puberty blockers go on to cross-sex hormones.
Behind these numbers lie individual stories. Here, I share one—that of a brilliant and insightful young man who struggled with gender issues for several years. His harrowing journey to self-awareness will be instructive for many of those talking and teaching about gender issues to children and young adults.
It was clear to Ash from an early age that he was different from other boys. Their world seemed to revolve around their bodies, while he was in his mind. They were sporty. He was scientific. They roamed in packs together, while he gravitated toward the girls. They were rowdy. He was gentle. And he had a vague sense that other people could connect emotionally in some way that eluded him.
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He went to his therapist, whom he’d been seeing since the psychotic break, and told her that he’d hated puberty and his body hair, he didn’t fit in with other boys, he was mostly friends with girls, he didn’t like being a boy. All true things. She suggested that perhaps he was transgender, confirming his suspicions.
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The next year, Ash got a new therapist, one who diagnosed him as autistic. And this, he says, was like a ray of sunshine: enlightenment.
The therapist “didn’t focus on the issues I was having with gender, but focused on the anxiety, depression, and living as an autistic person in this world, which were much, much more important, and I think [the discussion] relieved a lot of the distress that was fuelling my dysphoria,” Ash said. “I sort of came to a place where I thought, you know, just very internally, that perhaps I am not born in the wrong body … I found [an] identity of non-binaryness.”
Ash’s therapist had been working with him on seeing nuance in the world—something autistic people, prone to black-and-white thinking, sometimes struggle to do. The goal was to be “able to take a step back, to get a bird’s eye view in the stoic tradition and try to see things from other people’s points of view.”
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Source:
https://quillette.com/2022/02/11/a-desisters-tale/
