The Risks No One Talks About

In the second of three articles, a Virginia Parent writes about the things she wishes she'd known

In late 2022, an envelope addressed to my son landed in our mailbox. Expecting a routine bill—since we covered his D.C. apartment, car, gas, insurance, college debt, career training, and credit card for food and clothing—I was stunned to find an invoice from a semen storage facility. My hands trembled as I realized he’d used our family credit card to preserve his fertility at a cryobank, a step toward gender-affirming treatments I barely understood and never saw coming.

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Cryobanks tout fertility preservation as a solution for gender-affirming hormone therapy’s sterility risks, but the costly service often fails to deliver.

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I tried to reach out to him, but he wouldn’t answer my calls. I desperately texted him screenshots of the pages from Miriam Grossman's book, Lost in Trans Nation, describing the grim realities of so-called gender -affirming procedures. He responded, “YOU DON’T OWN MY BODY.” He insisted he was an adult who could make decisions for himself; seemingly oblivious to how his financial dependence on us undermined his argument. Yes, we could have stopped paying his bills, but with an extensive infrastructure of non-profits such as SYMAL, the DC LGBTQ+ Support Center in the DMV (District of Columbia, Maryland, Virginia) metro area, geared up to offer transitioning young adults with everything from medical care to housing, I feared it might mean losing touch with him entirely. I was left staring at my phone and the cold reality: My son was on a dangerous path, and I was powerless to stop it.

Losing My Son

For five years, I’ve carried the ache of losing my son, who, at 25, left home wearing a dress to join a transgender “community” in Washington, D.C. My brilliant, comical, and creative boy—once a whiz at everything—is also fragile, grappling with depression, possible autism, childhood bullying, and trauma from his brother’s cancer battle.

I blamed myself, feeling I’d failed him as a mother. But as I dove into research, reading books, watching interviews, and listening to podcasts, I began to see a bigger picture—one that scared me even more and showed me this was not my fault. The path my son was on, encouraged by therapists and LGBTQ+ activist voices, was out of my control and came with risks I felt no one was talking about.

I was horrified to discover how cross-sex hormones drastically alter the body, risking sterility that could prevent my son from ever having children naturally, even if he reconsiders—cryobank or not. They also carry dangers like liver tumors, heart issues, and lifelong health complications.

So-called “gender-affirming” surgeries can be devastating. I heard harrowing stories of young people left incontinent, in chronic pain, or robbed of sexual pleasure after multiple, agonizing operations to reshape their bodies. One detransitioner on Stephanie Winn’s podcast, You Must Be Some Kind of Therapist, sobbed as he described falling in love after detransitioning, only to learn his stored sperm had been destroyed when he missed a payment. I thought of my son, who could very easily forget to update his address, and my stomach churned.

The psychiatrist, Dr. Miriam Grossman, called this a “medical scandal as horrific as lobotomies.” She argued that affirming young people’s new identities without exploring their underlying pain—depression, trauma, or social struggles—rushes them toward irreversible choices. Walt Heyer, a long detransitioned man, echoed this, suggesting that many like my son might be grappling with childhood trauma, not a fixed identity. He believes therapy with a trauma specialist could help. I think he is exactly right, but I don’t know how to reach my son, who’s surrounded by a community that celebrates and enforces his new make-believe self.

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One of a growing number of detransitioners speaking out

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The Sound of Silence

The deafening silence infuriates me. My son was blind to the risks, as are countless vulnerable youth, because of this omission. The Patch article about the NoVA Prism Center I wrote about last month gushed over crafts, books, and a “safe” space for kids, glossing over hormones, surgeries, and the lifelong medical burdens medicalized youth endure. But they were anything but “safe.” For instance, the therapist who encouraged my son has a master’s degree in education, a master's degree in mental health, with experience working in college admissions. She is not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, yet she felt confident telling him he could become a girl. And my gullible son fell for it.

Schools, like those in Fairfax County, celebrate the Transgender Day of Visibility, but I wonder: Where are the voices of parents like me, or detransitioners who regret their choices? Why aren’t we hearing from psychologists who could help kids learn to love themselves as they are, instead of leaving their families, changing their names, pronouns, gender, and bodies to become someone they are not? Why are politicians so keen to promote transgenderism?

Finding Help

Desperate for family therapy, I consulted a psychologist through my health insurance, only to hear, “If you don’t affirm his identity, he’ll cut you off forever.” I left her office crushed, unwilling to erase my son’s true self for a fabricated one. Then a friend connected me with EnCourage, a faith-based group that understood my pain. They listened to my story, accepted and understood my distress and grief, and connected me with other forlorn parents who were having the same experience I was. I also found Genspect, and their support was another lifeline for me in a world that seemed to have turned against me.

The support helps, but I still live in fear, knowing that my son is in a “fantasy bubble,” as I call it, surrounded by people who cheer his new identity but may not see or don’t want to talk about the risks. It has been years since that envelope arrived in the mail. I don’t know if my son has had surgery, but the thought of how it will harm him haunts me.

I want to shout to other parents: Learn what I didn’t! My deepest wish is for families to have the chance I missed—to protect their children with eyes wide open, armed with the knowledge I now hold and strategies to shield them from the transgender cult’s grasp.

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Genspect publishes a variety of authors with different perspectives. Any opinions expressed in this article are the author’s and do not necessarily reflect Genspect’s official position. For more on Genspect, visit our FAQs.

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A Compassionate Way Forward

Join the Genspect team this September at The Bigger Picture conference in New Mexico. After nearly a decade of well-intentioned but deeply damaging practices carried out in the name of kindness, we will address the stark realities of medical transition. With clarity and courage, we’ll explore how to navigate the path ahead with integrity—and why telling the truth, now more than ever, is essential to real progress.

Tickets selling fast - secure your seat now.

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