Four years ago, I wrote about my decision to live as a woman in The New York Times, writing that I had wanted to live “authentically as the woman I have always been” and had “effectively traded my white male privilege to become one of America’s most hated minorities”.
Three years ago, I decided that I was neither male nor female, but non-binary – and made headlines after an Oregon judge agreed to let me identify as a third sex, not male or female.
Now I want to live again as the man that I am.
I’m one of the lucky ones. Despite participating in medical transgenderism for six years, my body is still intact. Most people who desist from transgender identities after gender changes can’t say the same.
But that’s not to say I got off scot-free. My psyche is eternally scarred, and I’ve got a host of health issues from the grand medical experiment.
Here’s how things began.
After convincing myself that I was a woman during a severe mental-health crisis, I visited a licensed nurse practitioner in early 2013 and asked for a hormone prescription. ”If you don’t give me the drugs, I’ll buy them off the internet,” I threatened.
Although she’d never met me before, the nurse phoned in a prescription for two milligrams of oral estrogen and 200 mg of Spironolactone that very same day. She ignored that I have chronic post-traumatic stress disorder, having previously served in the military for almost 18 years. All of my doctors agree on that. Others believe that I have bi-polar disorder and possibly borderline personality disorder.
I should have been stopped, but out-of-control, transgender activism had made the nurse practitioner too scared to say no.
I’d learned how to become a female from online medical documents at a Department of Veterans Affairs hospital website.
After I began consuming the cross-sex hormones, I started therapy at a gender clinic in Pittsburgh so that I could get people to sign off on the transgender surgeries I planned to have.
All I needed to do was switch over my hormone operating fuel and get my penis turned into a vagina. Then I’d be the same as any other woman. That’s the fantasy the gender community sold me. It’s the lie I bought into and believed.
One therapist tried to stop me from crawling into this smoking rabbit hole. When she did, I not only fired her, I filed a formal complaint against her. “She’s a gatekeeper,” the Trans community said.
Professional stigmatisms against “conversion therapy” had made it impossible for the therapist to question my motives for wanting to change my sex.
The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (Fifth Edition) says one of the traits of gender dysphoria is believing you possess the stereo-typical feelings of the opposite sex. I felt that about myself, but yet no therapist discussed it with me.
Two weeks hadn’t passed before I found a replacement therapist. The new one quickly affirmed my identity as a woman. I was back on the road to getting vaginoplasty.
There’s abundant online literature informing transgender people that their sex change isn’t real. But when a licensed medical doctor writes you a letter essentially stating that you were born in the wrong body and a government agency or court of law validates that delusion, you become damaged and confused. I certainly did.
My trauma history resembles a ride down the Highway of Death during the first Gulf War.
As a child, I was sexually abused by a male relative. My parents severely beat me. At this point, I’ve been exposed to so much violence and had so many close calls that I don’t know how to explain why I’m still alive. Nor do I know how to process mentally some of the things I’ve seen and experienced.
The best thing that could have happened would have been for someone to order intensive therapy. That would have protected me from my inclination to cross-dress and my risky sexual transgressions, of which there were many.
Instead, quacks in the medical community hid me in the women’s bathroom with people’s wives and daughters. “You gender identity is female,” these alleged professionals said.
The medical community is afraid of the Trans community. Trans men are winning in medicine, and they’ve won the battle for language.
Think of the word “transvestite”. They’ve succeeded in making it a vulgar word, even though it just means men dressing like women. People are no longer allowed to tell the truth about men like me. Everyone now had to call us “transgender” instead.
The diagnostic code in my records at the Veterans’ Affairs (VA) should read “Transvestite Disorder” (302.3).
Trauma and hyper sexuality owing to childhood sexual abuse are all supposed to be red flags for those involved in psychology, psychiatry, and physical medicine, yet nobody except for the one therapist in Pittsburgh ever tried to stop me changing my sex. They just kept helping me to harm myself.
Escaping to “non-binary”
Three years into my gender change from male to female, I looked hard into the mirror one day. When I did, the façade of femininity and womanhood crumbled.
Despite having taken being injected with every hormone and anti-androgen concoction in the VA’s medical arsenal, I didn’t look anything like a female. People on the street agreed. Their harsh stares reflected the reality behind my fraudulent existence as a woman. Biological sex is immutable.
It took three years for that reality to set in with me. When the fantasy of being a woman came to an end, I asked two of my doctors to allow me to become non-binary instead of female to bail me out. Both readily agreed.
After pumping me full of hormones – the equivalent of 20 birth control pills per day – each of them wrote a sex-change letter. The two weren’t just bailing me out. They were getting themselves off the hook for my failed sex change. One worked at the VA. The other worked at Oregon Health and Science University.
To escape the delusion of having become a woman, I did something completely unprecedented in American history. I convinced an Oregon judge to declare my sex to be non-binary – neither male nor female.
In my psychotic mind, I had restored the mythical third sex to North America. And I became the first legally recognised non-binary person in the country.
The landmark court decision catapulted me to instant fame within the LGBT community. For 10 days nonstop afterwards, the media didn’t let me sleep. Reporters hung out in my Facebook feed, journalists clung to my every word, and a Portland television station beamed my wife and I into living rooms in the United Kingdom.
Becoming a woman had gotten me into The New York Times. Convincing a judge that my sex was non-binary got my photos and story into publications around the world.
Then, before the judge’s ink had even dried on my Oregon sex change court order, a Washington, DC-based LGBT legal aid organisation contacted me.” We want to help you change your birth certificate,” they offered.
Within months, I scored another historic win after the Department of Vital Records issued me a brand new birth certificate from Washington, DC, where I was born. A local group called Whitman-Walker Health had gotten my sex designation on my birth certificate switched to “unknown“. It was the first time in DC history that a birth certificate had been printed with a sex other than male or female.
Another transgender legal aid organisation jumped on the Jamie Shupe bandwagon, too. Lambda Legal used my non-binary court order to help convince a Colorado federal judge to order the State Department to issue a passport with an “X” marker (meaning non-binary) to a separate plaintiff named Dana Zzyym.
LGBT organisations helping me to screw up my life had become a common theme. During my prior sex change to female, the New York-based Transgender Legal Defence and Education Fund had gotten my name legally changed. I didn’t like being named after the uncle who’d molested me. Instead of getting me therapy for that, they got me a new name.
A Pennsylvania judge didn’t the name change, either. Wanting to help a transgender person, she had not only changed my name, but at my request she also sealed the court order, allowing me to skip out on a ton of debt I owed because of a failed home purchase and begin my new life as a woman. Instead of merging my file, two of the three credit bureaus issued me a brand new line of credit.
Walking away from fiction
It wasn’t until I came out against the sterilisation and mutilation of gender-con fused children and transgender military service members in 2017 that LGBT organisations stopped helping me. Most of the media retreated with them. Overnight, I went from being a liberal media darling to a conservative pariah.
Both groups quickly began to realise that the transgender community had a runaway on their hands. Their solution was to ignore me and what my story had become. They also stopped acknowledging that I was behind the non-binary option that now exists in 11 states.
The truth is that my sex change to non-binary was a medical and scientific fraud. Consider the fact that, before the historic court hearing occurred, my lawyer informed me that the judge had a transgender child.
Sure enough, the morning of my brief court hearing, the judge didn’t ask me a single question. Nor did this officer of the court demand to see any medical evidence alleging I was born with something magical. Within minutes, the judge just signed off on the court order.
I do not have any disorders of sexual development. All of my sexual confusion was in my head. I should have been treated. Instead, at every step, doctors, judges and advocacy groups indulged my fiction.
The carnage that came from my court victory is just as precedent setting as the decision itself. The judge’s order led to millions of taxpayer dollars being spent to put an “X” marker on driver’s licenses in 11 states so far. You can now become male, female or “non-binary” in all of them.
In my opinion, the judge in my case should have recused herself. In doing so, she would have spared me the ordeal still yet to come. She would also have saved me from having to bear the weight of the big secret behind my win. I now believe she wasn’t just validating my transgender identity. She was advancing her child’s transgender identity too.
A sensible magistrate would have politely told me “no” and refused to sign such an outlandish legal request. “Gender is just a concept. Biological sex defines all of us,” that person would have said.
In January 2019, unable to advance the fraud for another day, I reclaimed my male birth sex. The weight of the lie on my conscience was heavier than the value of the fame I’d gained from participating in this elaborate swindle.
Two fake gender identities couldn’t hide the truth of my biological reality. There is no third gender or no third sex. Like me, intersex people are either male or female. Their condition is a result of a disorder of sexual development, and they need help and compassion.
I played my part in pushing forward this grand illusion. I’m not the victim here. My wife, daughter, and the American public are – they are the real victims.
This is an edited version of an article you can find here: https://www.dailysignal.com/2019/03/10/i-was-americas-first-non-binary-person-it-was-all-a-sham/