Boobs Out For Justice
How Doctors Reacted To My Prosthetic Breasts At American Academy of Pediatrics Conference
For the first time, I donned a pair of prosthetic breasts and debuted them at the prestigious American Academy of Pediatrics conference held in Washington, D.C. My purpose was to accompany the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism (FAIR) at a professionally organized booth among the many other associations devoted to childhood medicine. This three-day event would be an exhaustive yet thought-provoking journey into the psyche of medical professionals concerning the realm of gender medicine. The prosthetics themselves, which I stumbled upon on Amazon, were originally marketed to crossdressers and mastectomy patients, a peculiar yet apt overlap for my unique journey.
When I first put on these prosthetic breasts, the experience was surreal. The bra I used was not quite up to the task of supporting their weight, causing them to sag slightly. Strangely, this sag closely mirrored how my body once looked. In the past, I had been self-conscious about my large, drooping breasts set somewhat lower on my chest. They felt obtrusive, unattractive, and distracted from my sense of self. This self-consciousness even led to concerns about my weight. However, after being breastless for over six years, wearing these prosthetics felt oddly natural and womanly. They made me feel a touch more attractive.
The pivotal moment of the conference came when I noticed that our booth was drawing less attention than I had hoped. It seemed like we weren't as colorful or exciting as some of the other booths, and people were passing us by without fully understanding our message. In a moment of creativity and a dark sense of humor, I decided to take action. I removed the prosthetic breasts from my bra and placed them prominently on the table. It was a bold move that immediately garnered the attention we had been lacking. More importantly, these prosthetic breasts became an effective visual aid for conveying a crucial message about the true harms and lasting effects of poorly diagnosed gender-affirming care.
As I shared my story with passing doctors, I pointed to the prosthetic breasts and declared, "These are my prosthetic breasts. This is all I have now. I was harmed by gender medicine." The doctors' reactions were a mix of shock, discomfort, and a noticeable desire to distance themselves from the conversation. The uncomfortable truths brought forth by detransitioners challenged the status quo and the narratives of gender medicine. My frustration mounted as I attempted to convey the complexity of medical trauma through a brief elevator pitch-style anecdote, only to be met with doctors who often avoided eye contact and offered nothing more than a hurried "thank you for sharing your story" before swiftly retreating to escape the conversation.
This experience underscored the vital need for a deeper understanding of the long-term effects of gender-affirming care and the necessity of compassionate, informed healthcare practices within the field of gender medicine. It also highlighted the power of creative and unorthodox methods in conveying a message that, though uncomfortable, demands attention and understanding. Wearing those prosthetic breasts at the conference was a pivotal moment, both for me personally and for the larger conversation around gender-affirming care and detransitioning.