As a kid, I was your classic tomboy. I wore short hair, boys’ clothes, and spent most of my time running around outside with my mostly male friends. But it went deeper than that. I fantasized about being the prince and not the princess in Disney stories, and as my body started developing, it didn’t match my expectations.
I would have easily fit the diagnostic criteria for childhood gender dysphoria — back when there actually were diagnostic criteria and before today’s “affirming” approach that does away with any veneer of caution.
When I hit puberty, I started to develop feelings for girls, reinforcing the sense that I was different. By that point, Canada had become a much more accepting place, and I am grateful for that. I just wanted to be left alone to figure things out for myself.
And I did figure things out. At 16, I met my girlfriend and we’ve been together ever since. I am 34 now, and we recently got married and am expecting a child. It has been something of a fairy tale, and we both got to be the princess.
At the same time, there was also an ideology growing around me that could have radically altered my course in life. The idea that some people are “born into the wrong body” was going mainstream. I initially bought into this idea. It was positioned as a natural extension of gay rights. How? I didn’t really know, but it seems like the good, progressive thing to believe.
I wondered into my late 20s whether transition was something I should have done and if I would one day wake up miserable because I was supposed to be a man. After all, so many of the women who were transitioning seemed to be so much like me.
But then I started to hear about “trans kids.” I instinctively knew that it was wrong for youth under 18. It is wrong to medicalize them, and it is wrong to confuse them about their sex at a vulnerable age.
That was more than five years ago, and I’ve been an advocate for preserving young people’s bodies and fertility ever since. For a long time, it didn’t feel like this topic would ever get the attention it deserved. Slowly but surely, the conversation started to reach a wider audience.
Last year, New Brunswick Premier Blaine Higgs and Saskatchewan Premier Scott Moe both introduced policies on name and pronoun changes in schools. While these “social transition” steps seem harmless, they are psychological interventions that can encourage a child to lock in their identity and proceed to more permanent changes.
Early this year, Alberta Premier Danielle Smith announced the most comprehensive set of policies in Canada focusing on the areas of schools, medicine and sports. Recently, she announced that legislation will be tabled this fall
I am grateful to Smith and I applaud her courage in the face of attacks. The premier is constantly accused of hatred and bigotry for seeking to preserve the bodily integrity of youth under 18 and their ability to make fully informed decisions when they reach adulthood.
Smith has helped move the needle. In a political climate that can get vitriolic, it was far from a safe bet to introduce these policies.
It’s time for the other perspective to be offered. I am a married lesbian and I support Smith. I am grateful for her willingness to take on this issue.
I got lucky. I was able to grow up without the influence of activists making me believe that I should change my body because of my gender nonconformity. My baby and my ability to carry her are the biggest blessings of my life.
For so many young girls, this opportunity has been taken from them. Smith’s proposed legislation will help prevent this from happening to others, and we all owe her a great debt for that.
Eva Kurilova is a freelance writer who has been engaged with the province’s gender policies.