It's been nearly six years since my daughter's announcement. For four years before that, there had been a drastic change in her attitude, her appearance, her interests. She has spent half of her life being one person, and half being another. It destabilized me for a long time.

[...]

In April 2023, a month before she turned 20, she took her first shot of testosterone. My anxiety, bordering on panic, became a deep depression. Now, every time she speaks, her once-beautiful voice cracks like a teenage boy. I wince every time I hear it. People have noticed. She's probably noticed. I'm OK with that. I get to be in pain, too, and my pain matters. I have no idea what parts of her future she's taken away by this decision, but I wonder, and it makes me so desperately sad.

The election of Donald Trump gave me a small boost that sense would finally arrive. I had, however, been demoralized by a decade of having my reality turned upside down, my language policed, my parental agency robbed, and watching an entire culture, particularly the college-indoctrinated waters that I somewhat swim in, cheer the whole thing on as if my destruction and that of my beloved daughter constituted cause for celebration. I didn't really believe change would happen. One month has changed me.

[...]

Now, when family members, friends and acquaintances rail against Trump, I point out that it's he, not the Democratic Party, who is trying to protect young people from medical experimentation and long-term harm. I point out that this sinister medical regime only exists because of the patronage and protection of the Democrats. I understand that Trump is polarizing, has not lived a virtuous private life, and has said and done things, and stands for things that I and many others don’t care for. Yet I voted for one reason: to protect my daughter and thousands of other young people from this dark period in the history of medicine.