Forrest’s letter

Early proponents of transgender medicine like Benjamin included pictures of these statues in his work, side-by-side with pictures of his patients. This cherry-picked version of history is still referenced in today’s transgender movement. The great irony of so-called Gender Affirming Care is how it undermines the patient’s ability to relate to their natal sex and exacerbates the dissonance between the body and mind. This irony is best illustrated through the plight of detransitioners who find themselves on the butt-end of insurance policies prepared in advance to erase their experience. 

A few years ago, I contested a decision by my state’s Medicaid program not to cover the insertion of prosthetic testicles in the wake of my detransition. Almost two years had passed since the surgery and my first experience of regret. I had completely detransitioned, with testosterone injections and weekly sessions of psychotherapy. I was housed, reunited with my family, and employed full-time. I was more stable than ever before in my adult life, and most certainly more so than during my transition. 

I approached the idea of another surgery with great deliberation before reaching out to local surgeons. When my first request for coverage was denied, I appealed the decision with naive sincerity. I argued that the absence of testicles caused psychological distress, particularly as a man. Therefore, restoration of my natal sex should be counted as Gender Affirming Care. The Oregon Health Authority addressed me personally in their response:

You underwent a double orchiectomy as part of Gender Affirming Care. To insert prosthetic testicles would be a reversal of that operation. Reversal of Gender Affirming Care is on our list of excluded items. 

 The letter was signed “Sincerely,” and I read the sender’s name, wondering if she had stopped to imagine the life on the other end of her decision. 

Who defines what qualifies as Gender Affirming Care? 

At face value, the name implies inclusivity. Yet in practice, stories like mine illustrate how narrowly the term is applied based on popular identities. This limited view of human nature is not isolated to insurance policies. It’s evident in the popular slogans, “trans women are women,” or the highly interpretive historical analysis, “trans people have always existed.” History in its highest form is more than propaganda. It is a mirror of our broken world as much as it is a window into the past. It resists easy answers and neat slogans. Pick any well-known Roman author from the 1st century and you’ll find vivid accounts of sexual deviancy, cross-dressing, and ritual castration—always framed as spectacle, excess, or folly. To the imperial tastemaker, it was the object of satire. To the early Christian, an example of Pagan immorality. And to the Stoic, an example of human error. Only the poet dared to muse on the intimate experience of regret. His poem #63 features the popular myth of Attis, who castrated himself in a fit of madness while imitating the goddess Cybele. In Catullus’s version, the sad hero comes to lament his decision: 

“Now, now, I grieve the deed I’ve done; now, now, do I repent!” 

How could anyone overlook the dire warning of Catullus #63? 

Transgender ideology has wreaked havoc on society by elevating identity over reality, silencing dissent, and rebranding lifelong medicalization as care. We, the detransitioners, are not interested in revenge or culture wars. We have paid dearly for the truth. We carry the cost in our bodies, in our families, and in our silence. We’re counting on organizations like this one to help restore what was lost—clarity, accountability, compassion. Not only for us, but for the generations to come.

Forrest Smith
https://substack.com/@fs4095