This post is PART 7 in a guest blogger series following author Rachael's transition from an A.M.A.B (Assigned Male at Birth) individual to that of a self-identified trans woman.
If you are just discovering Queer as me, start the story from the beginning here.
Reparative therapy is the worst thing anyone could do to another human being. The theory that you can “FIX” an LGBTQIA2S youth or adult, is not only wrong but in my opinion, an abomination. Straight mental torture, something you would read about from the Nazi war crimes in World War II, that’s how I would best describe it. I’m not wrong in this. But anyhow, in the next two weeks, most of my friends, family, and church members tried to do just that. In their own way of course, it wasn’t legal and it certainly wasn’t something that I would wish upon another. After two weeks of this, no matter how hard I fought, they broke me.
I was exhausted, terrified, and by the time they were finished, so completely broken and filled with enormous guilt that I did whatever they wanted. Afterwards, once I was able to sleep again, I was convinced, brainwashed that they were right and I was just crazy. That their view was the only proper view, just go along with what they wanted and I could rest. So, I made an appointment with a doctor they wanted me to see and had my testosterone levels checked. The doctor was quite understanding and called me as soon as the results were back. He told me that the results were checked twice because he didn’t believe that they were correct the first time. He said that my levels were unusual due to the fact that with the severe lack of testosterone in my body, I should either be an 85-year-old man or a woman. I was 40 years old at the time.
I was placed on a large dose of testosterone. It was made abundantly clear that I had to follow this regime of therapy if I didn’t want to get sick again. For almost a year and a half, I did as they ordered, and slowly became something else. You don’t give any woman this amount of testosterone not expect something monstrous to be created in her place. The horrible rages, the paranoia, the terrible thoughts I’d have, it was the most horrible thing I have felt in decades. It was during this time that I was also taught the “truth” of being a man. I was taught that as a “male” I had the right to do as I pleased, that if I had to yell, break things or hit people to make them behave themselves, “meaning do as I say” it was OK. That’s why I was angry all the time I was told, it wasn’t the hormones, but the lack of respect of my “male” authority. In the days, weeks, and months following, it was abundantly clear that I was becoming what I always feared…a monster.
Editor’s Note: To read Queer as me - Part 8: The edge of sanity, and beyond, click here. Or click here to read the previous blog post Queer as me - Part 6: The furious storm. For the latest LSOP blog posts and so much more, make sure to add us on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.