Words as Mirrors: Why “Detransitioner” Deserves a Place in Our Lexicon
Nancy McDermott on why Genspect submitted the word, "detransitioner" to the OED.
I have always been a word geek. Language is not just a tool; it is a lens. In my book, The Problem with Parenting, I traced how use of the word “parenting” ushered in a dysfunctional shift in child-rearing, turning a natural role into a performance. Then there is the word “adulting,” a sure sign we have lost the plot when it comes to adulthood. Words do not just reflect reality; they steer it, often exposing where we are headed, even if that is sometimes off a cliff.
Chroniclers of English
The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) understands this. Its updates, including new words, phrases, and “word of the decade” picks, serve as a barometer of social change. Consider the gender lexicon it has embraced: “cisgender,” “transgender,” “non-binary,” “genderqueer,” “genderfluid,” and even “agender” have all secured their spots. These terms, once fringe, now anchor how we discuss identity. Then there is “detransition,” recently added, a nod to a growing phenomenon. However, it is not enough. “Detransition” is a process, a verb. What about the people living it? “Detransitioner” remains absent, flagged as a mistake by my spellcheck every time I type it. That absence stings.
I write about detransitioners frequently. They are not just undoing a choice; they constitute a class of people facing serious challenges, often because medical professionals presented experimental treatments as established medicine. Many transitioned as teens or young adults, sold on a promise that did not materialize. Some now navigate scarred bodies, lost fertility, or shifted voices, bearing the irreversible marks of an ideological and medical juggernaut that rushed to affirm them without pausing to question. Others wrestle with regret, isolation, or a medical establishment that has already moved on. “Detransition” captures the act, but “detransitioner” names the human cost. It is not in the dictionary, and though I can add it to my personal word list, it still appears as an error elsewhere, a glitch that mirrors how many regard detransitioners: unseen, undefined, inconvenient.
Language Matters
Language matters. It is symbolic, of course. Adding “detransitioner” will not conjure billing codes, fund therapies, or unlock insurance overnight. However, it is a start. Words shape what we acknowledge. The OED recognized “cisgender” in 2015, lending legitimacy to a contested term for those who remain in their birth gender. “Transgender,” “non-binary,” “genderqueer,” “genderfluid,” and “agender” followed, rounding out the spectrum, each a milestone on a road paved with good intentions. So why not “detransitioner”? If we can name every shade of gender experience, why not those who step back from it? Making it official would not merely involve linguistics; it would signal that these people exist, that their struggles deserve a name.
The OED’s new-word list serves as a cultural archive. “Selfie” landed in 2013, a badge of our image-obsessed era. “Woke” arrived later, tracing a shift in awareness that has since twisted into something else. “Detransition” is a half-step, important but incomplete without “detransitioner.” This is not just a word; it is a community. These are survivors of a medical and cultural experiment that overpromised and underdelivered. Many face chronic pain, social exile, or the uphill climb of rebuilding their lives. They deserve a term that honors their reality, not just their journey.
A dictionary entry will not fix everything. It will not reverse surgeries or silence the red squiggles tomorrow. However, it represents an important crack in the wall, a way to say, “We see you.” Language has always been a battleground for recognition. “Ms.” reshaped how we view women vis-à-vis their marital status. “Geek” morphed from a put-down into a proud label. “Detransitioner” could do the same, bringing a hidden struggle into focus. It is not about pity; it is about presence.
A Hill to Stand On
Contrast that with the gender terminology already enshrined: “cisgender,” “transgender,” “non-binary,” “genderfluid,” “genderqueer,” “agender.” All these are rooted in self-perception. Yet “detransitioner,” which describes an all-too-real state of being, languishes outside the club. That is not just an oversight; it is a choice. So here is my plea to the OED and fellow word geeks: let “detransitioner” in. Let it sit alongside “parenting” and “adulting” as a marker of a world grappling with new situations and struggling to evolve. It is more than a word—it is a step toward accountability. And for those of us who live for language, that is a hill worth standing on.
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