Trans Kids: It's time to talk

Reflections on my first step into this world and why I feel compelled to keep speaking about this issue.

Six years ago yesterday, the film "Trans Kids: It's time to talk" was released. At the time, I was a psychotherapist working in rural Ireland. My life was relatively straightforward then. I had written two bestsellers, with another on the way. Fully absorbed in my clinical work, I was often invited to speak on national media about mental health issues—a topic I loved discussing. Mental health is incredibly important to me; it has always consumed much of my thinking.

Since then, my life has changed irreversibly. In many ways, it has become more difficult, but in others, it has brought unexpected growth and insight. Back then, I believed the primary issue was that children were being needlessly and irreversibly medicalised for their sense of gender. I've learned so much since then.

This was the first film to feature a detransitioner on mainstream TV. It was also the first to reveal the pain of a trans widow and to expose the extreme and insane tactics of violent TRAs.

We anticipated the extreme pushback from TRAs. At the time, they went on and on about how awful it was that the film for being broadcast the day after Trans Day of Remembrance. While the attacks continue to this day, they have become more covert, often involving bots and agents of chaos. Back then, when the TRAs came after me the abuse was relentless and exhausting. I was frightened. My kids, who were just nine and eleven at the time, were my biggest concern—I worried about how this would impact them. I was also anxious about my career; and rightfully so, my professional reputation was walloped by this film.

Some TRAs stalked my personal life, and I considered taking legal action, but I realised it would be too troubling for my psyche. It was a very scary time. I didn’t want my life to be destroyed, but I felt it was imperative to continue speaking out about what was happening. I’ve always been very motivated by the need to protect free speech.

This film was broadcast on Channel 4, a really woke UK TV station. It caused a LOT of turbulence to get this film out—Channel 4 was extremely resistant, and we had to accept several strategic losses in order to secure the win of having it broadcast.

The day before the broadcast, I had left a studio in tears after refusing to do a voiceover with a garbled definition of gender dysphoria. Channel 4 had insisted I travel to Dublin that day to record new voiceovers for the film—Channel 4 told us the film couldn’t be broadcast without these edits. I was hesitant, but I knew how important this film was, and I felt it was critical to ensure its release. Even now, six years later, I cringe at the voiceovers I recorded that day. They didn’t represent my views, but I decided it was more important to be strategic because lives were being devastated.

Growing up during the Troubles in Ireland taught me a hard lesson on the value of compromise. I still believe that sometimes it’s better to “accept compromise and keep fighting.” I’m well aware that others - Ian Paisley comes to mind - would argue that “no compromise” is the better path. But in this instance, I believe the film’s impact outweighed the personal and ideological concessions I had to make.

When I left the studio that day, I thought the film would not be released. I had compromised on some points but stood firm on others—this was why I left the studio in tears. It was a confusing time. Information on these issues was scarce, and I was far from an expert. I was just stumbling along blindly, driven by the hope that my genuine conviction—that something was deeply wrong and needed to be exposed—would be enough to carry me through.

My lack of expertise was precisely why I was asked to present the film. The production company specifically wanted someone who wasn’t already involved in the conversation. They could have approached well-informed and respected voices like Stephanie Davies-Arai or Heather Brunskell Evans, but that would have risked the film being dismissed as biased or coming from a feminist perspective. (At the time, no one I knew was using the term “gender critical.”)

The producers noticed me because I had written a piece about the rise in the concept of ‘trans kids’ for the Sunday Independent the previous year. That had been my only contribution to the discussion at this point. I came at it from a neutral perspective—I had been a gender non-conforming kid and I didn’t think it was appropriate for kids like me to undergo permanent medicalisation. I wasn’t driven by feminism, and I had never heard about ROGD kids. I had no idea about the phenomenon of same-sex attracted young people ‘transing the gay away’ nor was I aware of the links with ADHD or Autism.

In many ways, I was completely naïve—but that’s exactly why I was seen as the right fit for the role. The premise of the film was to neutrally ask: Could any of the massive increase in the number of girls transitioning reflect cases like mine, where no medical intervention would be beneficial?

For raising this question, we were blacklisted and my professional reputation was ruined. The pro-trans affirmative side refused to engage in the film and launched an extensive campaign to prevent it from being broadcast. TRAs gathered at a feminist meeting we attended and tried to destroy our very expensive equipment.

After the film was released, I was shocked when I was turned on for wrongspeak from people I thought would be natural allies—those who shared my core beliefs: that children shouldn't be medicalised; that the silencing tactics of the TRAs were abhorrent; that the detransitioners’ stories needed urgent public attention; and that the pain experienced by parents when a child transitions as well as when an adult transitions should also be given immediate public attention.

The sustained abuse from women—yes, it is mostly women—on “my own side” has, at times, made my life unbearable. It’s left me questioning my involvement in this movement. I can handle the attacks from TRAs, but it turns out I’m far less equipped to endure the attacks from FRAs.

I’m not alone; I know many more people who have left this movement due to attacks from our own side than those who have left because of abuse from TRAs.

When the TRAs attack me, they call me names, spread lies about me, insult my appearance, and use grotesque, sexualised, and violent imagery. Attacks from my own side, while more insidious and relational, often mirror these tactics—they also call me names, spread lies about me, insult my appearance, and use grotesque, sexualised imagery. Additionally, they systematically undermine my professional reputation behind closed doors, spreading falsehoods about my work and making bad-faith interpretations of everything I do.

I’m accused of being a grifter—despite the fact that I earned much more money and had a much easier, more successful, and more lucrative life before the release of Trans Kids: It’s time to talk. (There are reasons why I don’t tend to speak much about my cancellation from mainstream media, but the impact has been pretty devastating.)

I know I have to tread very carefully here because it is considered A Bad Thing for me to be defensive when I’m attacked; it is seen as a failing—a mark against me, rather than a natural and justified response.

I’m accused of believing in ‘tru-trans’ - even though I’ve explained over a thousand times why I’ve never subscribed to that concept. I’m accused of wanting to ‘trans kids’- I’ve no idea what to say to the stupidity of this one. I’m also accused of being a ‘dick-panderer’ because I allowed the painful story of Debbie and Stephanie to unfold in a therapeutic manner rather than adopting the tone of a strident news investigator. During the interview with Stephanie (which was unexpected as she hadn’t said she would take part), I said things like “But you took it,” and “well done” which enraged many. Now, in 2024, I know the implications of those phrases and I would never say them. Perhaps most egregiously, I asked if Debbie and Stephanie were a lesbian couple. At the time, I didn’t think they were—I had no experience in interviewing people for TV and I wanted to somehow ask about their sex life because I thought it was important to raise this point. And so asking if they were some sort of lesbian couple was simply my inept way of highlighting how much Stephanie had lost through Debbie’s transition; she had lost her husband, her romantic life, her sex life and, in many ways, a father to her kids.

The reason we interviewed Debbie Hayton for the film was because, as a transwoman, he was speaking out against the medicalisation of children. This felt like a critically important perspective at the time, as it was not widely known in 2018 that many trans people opposed the medicalisation of children.

During the interview, however, it became clear that there was a profoundly sad story unfolding in the background. We went to great lengths to ensure this story was included in the film. In hindsight, had we chosen to edit it out—it certainly wasn’t needed in a film about transing kids—I would have spared myself years of grief and countless tears.

I remember being baffled when Kellie Jay Keen first led the charge against me. The first and only time I had met her, she was happily hanging out with transwomen—so why on earth was I being attacked for showing kindness to trans people in the film? I now realise there were all sorts of internecine politics at play back then, and my clumsy attempts at neutrality, aimed at reaching a broader audience, were used as fodder for political point-scoring in a UK turf war—and a TERF war—that had little to do with me.

Back in 2018, I knew very little about autogynephilia—it was during the making of this film that I first encountered the concept. We had decided to interview the psychotherapist James Caspian because his research on detransition had been blocked by Bath University, leading him to take a court case about it. During a tea break, James casually explained the concept of autogynephilia to me. I remember standing very still as I contemplated the implications of a male with a paraphilic disorder aroused by the idea of being female. Unfortunately, this conversation came after my interview with Debbie, so it was too late to revisit that angle.

We started the film with Matt, a young, teenage, autistic girl who was on puberty blockers. Rachel, Matt’s mother is a powerful person who really loved and cared for her child. I don’t know what became of Matt although I do remember Rachel emailing me once to tell me she had taken Matt off puberty blockers. Rachel has often come to mind since making the film and I’d love her to contact me again someday.

In the film, I also interview two young transmen, Cole and Kenny, and attempt to expose the issues related to early transition. I haven’t stayed in touch with either, so I’m unsure how life has unfolded for them. Both had faced significant challenges, and I sincerely hope their lives have improved.

The most compelling part of the film was the TRA protests at the feminist meeting in Bristol. One of the TRAs at the protest later regretted his actions.

The film concludes with the story of Cale, a woman in her 20s who had medically transitioned and then detransitioned. I still think it’s the most important aspect of the film. Thankfully, Cale’s story has a somewhat happy ending—we kept in touch after the film, and she has since gotten married.

Since the film’s release I have unexpectedly become deeply immersed in this world. I’m the founder-director of Genspect and I am studying for a PhD on this subject. For the first few years, I was determined to return back to my old, lovely life, but the silencing tactics were so extreme that they somehow compelled me to keep speaking out. The importance of free speech has always driven me and it’s fair to say that I’m now completely obsessed by the issue. Sadly, I won’t ever get my old life back, but maybe one day I’ll move on to other issues.

These are clips to the film

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJrCsdQ9KQ1aggdR1T6VnKd5zDD1kHbiZ&si=fewp7OzNq0wPQPXW

And this is the whole film (you have to register but it's free): https://www.stellaomalley.com/trans-kids-time-to-talk

With sincere thanks to Olly Lambert, the director of the film, who was and always has been wonderful.