Transition in hindsight: Aaron Kimberly’s story

The following testimony was written by Genspect advisor Aaron Kimberly. We’d like to thank Aaron for being so forthcoming about such a personal matter, and for his continued advocacy for parents with gender-questioning kids.

My story is what most people would expect of transgender person. I was born female in 1973 and grew up in a small farming community. From an early age I perceived myself as a boy. My parents would buy me “girl” toys, which I’d mostly ignore and play with my brother’s toys instead. I look miserable in my kindergarten class photo, because my mom made me wear a frilly shirt. When swimming, I wanted to wear swim trunks, not a swimsuit. My Halloween costumes included characters like a smurf, Superman, Michael Jackson, and Gene Simmons. I looked and acted so much like what others expect of boys that I was accidentally put onto a boys’ baseball team one summer – which I thought was great! When we played Star Wars in the playground, I was Luke Skywalker – never Leia – which no one seemed to mind. I was one of the boys. This social arrangement lasted until puberty, and then all the rules changed. I was attracted to girls, none of whom took any notice of me. The guy buddies I had started to either flirt or ignore me.

I had no idea why I perceived myself as male. It was confusing and embarrassing. I was the kind of kid that didn’t get into much trouble. I was quiet and bookish. I liked riding horses and drawing. I wanted to belong in my little town. I began to quietly self-destruct from high school onward. 

At age 19 I had surgery to remove a grapefruit-sized cyst from one of my ovaries. The surgeon said that my ovary was unrecognizable as an organ so it was sent for biopsy. It was discovered to be a mix of ovarian and testicular tissue. The surgeon seemed embarrassed for me and reassured me that the offending organ was gone, so I should just forget about it. I didn’t tell anyone about this. It both validated and further confused my perception of myself.

When I eventually decided to transition, in my 30s, it wasn’t a surprise to my family. It made as much sense to them as it did to me, remembering all the battles we had over things like my hair.

Am I happy with my transition? Yes. Despite the health problems, the awful surgeries, the expenses…I am happier. I feel more at home in my body. This is where the trans narrative tends to stop, right? I had severe Gender Dysphoria (GD) and the treatment helped. So, what’s the problem?

Well, let’s unpack this a bit.

The first thing my dad said when I told him I was going to transition was, “Well, that’s better than the gay thing. I don’t know why you don’t all do that.” He’d rather have a straight son than a gay daughter.

I didn’t know that childhood GD is most often a developmental stage for gay and lesbian people, and some LGB people continue to experience it into adulthood. There was only one other gay person in my town, that I knew of.

I didn’t know that there’s a high rate of GD associated with the intersex condition I have. I’d never heard of intersex conditions before. My mom hadn’t told me that it runs in her family. 

I didn’t fully understand the health problems and surgical complications I would have. I didn’t know that websites like Transbucket delete pictures of bad surgical outcomes and the surgeon I saw drastically under-reports his complication rates.

I didn’t know that “transgender” is a concept out of Queer Theory, not the medical community. I’d learned about it from a TV documentary about “trans kids” which stated that if you have GD it’s because you are a trans person. Not gay. Not a masculinized woman. Not someone with an intersex condition.

The trans narrative captured me.

I’ve been reviewing a lot of the medical literature, including the work of psychologists like Dr Zucker and Dr Blanchard. That’s when things finally started to make sense to me. People transition for a lot of different reasons. One of my buddies, now in his 50s, transitioned due to childhood sexual abuse. It didn’t feel safe to be a girl. He now regrets transitioning – something they say rarely happens. That’s not true. We just never tell anyone. There’s a lot at stake.

I’m not happier now because I medically transitioned into my true self.

I’m happier because I don’t get homophobic slurs screamed at me out of passing cars, like I did as a butch woman.

I’m happier because I fit better into a homophobic family.

I’m happier because I finally know the truth about GD and who I am. I have answers that orient me to reality.

It’s great that people value diversity but, by embracing the transgender narrative, people are also embracing traumatized girls altering their bodies to feel safer. We’re celebrating people fleeing homophobia. We’re praising people who use the medical system to manufacture imaginary personas of all kinds. We’re applauding people who are using those of us with a medical condition to advance their own political and capitalist agendas. We’re institutionalizing the recruitment of children into this movement, many of whom will alter their healthy bodies needlessly.

The lid needs to be taken off the box. Trans is not what it seems.

I wouldn’t want my own kids being captured by this.

I don’t want it happening to yours either.