Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking asks right now, but if you are, could you maybe write some whumpee deconditioning?
Oh this is right up my alley…
Caretaker sat outside on the porch, looking out over the dry grass and gravel drive. There was no one around for miles, well, no one but Whumpee.
He still didn’t know much about where he had come from, mostly that it was not a place he ever wanted to visit. He’d found him curled up in the barn, wedged in between hay bales as tightly as he could managed, like that was gonna do much against the below freezing temperatures. Caretaker was glad he’d thought to double check on the cats, otherwise, who knows if the kid would have made it through the night.
He’d yanked him inside and ripped into him, saying his parents were probably worried sick, and only when he’d ran out of breath did he see the hand shaped bruises, the burns…the belt marks. All through everything, whumpee hadn’t managed a word, merely stared blankly into the middle distance, trembling like a leaf.
That was almost three months ago now, and snow had given way to dead grass and the beginnings of spring, and Whumpee had stayed with Caretaker.
He slept in a real bed, not in a barn, and they ate meals together at a proper kitchen table, and he helped out around the property like he’d lived there all his life. And that was where the normalcy ended.
It was like he couldn’t remember, not in his mind at least. But the things he did were a different story. As horrible as it was, he had expected the flinching. The skittishness, the way he avoided fireplace pokers and belts like the plague. But there were other things that he just hadn’t puzzled out yet.
The biggest problem was that there was something about books that set him on edge. Caretaker was an avid reader, and there was not much he liked better than cracking open a book and sitting back on the porch, but whenever he did, whumpee acted…odd.
He’d watch from the kitchen window, then duck away when he’d look back, and if, after he looked back, he got up and came inside, it would trigger a panic attack like nothing else.
Usually, when whumpee got scared, they went still, and silent, aside from quick, short breaths, his head ducked and his hands clasped in front of him. Those were…easier, in some ways, to deal with. He had worked out that whumpee was needing forgiveness, or reassurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong, or that no one was mad at him. Once that “sunk in”, he would be able to calm down, slowly, but better the others.
The “book scares” as he had started to refer to them in his own mind, would have whumpee scrambling for cover, his hands up in a defensive position, and he would beg and cry that he was sorry, that he would be better, that he didn’t mean to, but he would never say what he was sorry for, and no amount of questions, in the moment or after it, would help caretaker figure it out. It was like even whumpee wouldn’t know.
He didn’t even know how to really calm whumpee down, all he was ever able to do was help him crash safely. He’d tell him to go sit in bed and calm down, and that he wasn’t in trouble, but he would still hear him crying for hours, and would find him passed out, exhausted, on top of the covers in his bed, tear tracks still drying on his cheeks.
He just…couldn’t figure it out.
Caretaker could feel whumpees eyes on the back of his head through the open window. He fought the urge to turn around, and instead, had an idea. He faked a yawn, and a satisfied sigh, and closed his book. He stretched, and snuck a sideways glance over his shoulder to see him watching.
He looked…hopeful, but still ducked away Was that a good sign? He took a deep breath, and decided to try something else. Very gently, he called. “Hey, Whumpee? Could you bring me a pen?”
He didn’t know what to ask for, but Whumpee hadn’t had any reactions to pens or the like, and it was something he could find easily.
“Y-Yes sir!”
Caretaker winced at the eager panic in his voice, and the way he practically ran for the cup of pens by the phone. He was out the door, presenting the pen, in seconds, his hands shaking but still lucid and not lost to panic yet.
“Thank you,” he takes the pen, and gives whumpee a smile, “would you feel like joining me?”
He gestured to the other rocking chair, and Whumpees breath hitched as he darted a glance up for just a second, searching Caretakers face.
He seemed to determine it was the right answer, and nodded, quickly. “Thank you sir.” It was like watching someone held at gunpoint, the way he sat so carefully, the white knuckle grip he held on the armrests.
“It’s nice weather out here, huh? Finally starting to warm up…” he didn’t know what else to say, hell, they’d probably had less than ten conversations that weren’t about what they were going to do or how to do something.
“Yes sir, it is…” He moved his hands to his lap, still not relaxing even the slightest, but his tone seemed less…stiff.
He wished he’d thought this out a little further, thought of more to talk about than the weather. In a way, he hadn’t planned because he didn’t really expect to get this far.
He took another deep breath, figuring he might as well not beat around the bush. “When I come and sit out here and read, I can tell it makes you worried…” Whumpee flinched, hard.
“Look, you aren’t in trouble, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just want to understand why…” caretaker added quickly, shifting to turn his full attention towards Whumpee.
That proved to be a bad idea. Whumpee shrank back in the chair, eyes wide and blank like a deer in the headlights, his mouth open but no words escaping.
“Hey, hey, I didn’t bring it up because I was annoyed or anything… you’re a good kid whumpee, and I don’t want you to always feel like you’re in trouble cause you’re not. Alright?”
It didn’t seem like Whumpee could even hear him. He still just stared forward, his back pressed painfully hard up against the back of the chair.
“Hey, whumpee, you’re okay, you’re good. Can you hear me?”
The question at least seemed to trigger something, and he nodded quickly, tears starting to pool in his eyes. “Good, good, you’re doing great, kid. Look, I just want you to know that you’re okay, right?”
Whumpee nodded again, and Caretaker could tell he was holding his breath.
“It’s okay if you feel like crying, you can, you won’t be in trouble… I just was hoping to find a way to…I dunno, not scare you so much.”
There’s a moment of silence, whumpee still not breathing, then, it was like it all flooded out at once. A sob seemed to rip out of him, and he sank to his knees in front of caretaker, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.
“P-please… I don’t know what- what to do. What do you want me to d-do? I will, I will, I promise- Please, ju-just tell me, please!”
He was shaking so badly that it was making his teeth chatter, and though Caretaker couldn’t see his face from this angle, he knew it would be screwed up in fear and grief like it always was in moments like these.
Shoving his own chair back, Caretaker sank down to meet whumpee on his knees, putting a hand over his clasped ones. “I want you to be able to relax, okay? I want you to trust me. Trust that I’m not going to hurt you, that you’re safe here with me, okay?”
“I can’t!”
Whumpee immediately clapped his hands over his own mouth in horror. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- I- I-“
Caretaker could hear the way he was winding himself up, the reedy, wheezing breathing that was starting to take over, and he couldn’t let him keep going.
“Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
The tone of his voice was calm, matter of fact, but it seemed to stop Whumpee dead in surprise. He was still struggling to breathe, little hitches interrupting every breath, but at least he was still breathing.
“I’m glad that you were able to be honest, and so that we can work together, okay? That was really, really good kid.”
“R-really?” The look in his eyes was both awestruck and disbelieving, but Caretaker would prefer that over terror any day.
“Yeah. Really. Now, when you said you can’t, did you mean you couldn’t relax, or that you couldn’t trust me, or both?” Caretaker cut himself off, raising a hand gently, “It is okay, whatever answer it is. I just want to know.”
Whumpee was starting to panic again, his eyes darting from the ground then to Caretakers face and down again.
“Both.”
“Okay! Now, we can start off on the same page,” Caretaker gently squeezed his hand around both of Whumpees, “Is there anything that I can do that would make you feel more safe?”
Whumpee just cried harder for a moment, and he wondered if he had pushed too far, when he finally managed a weak “I don’t know…”
Caretaker opened his mouth to speak, but Whumpee kept going. “I want to, I want to, you’ve been nothing but good to me and I want to obey- I don’t know how- I’m so sorry…”
“Hey- Hey, kid, the last thing on my mind is obedience, I just don’t want you be afraid all the time… You’re a good kid, you shouldn’t have to feel afraid.”
To caretakers surprise, whumpee laughed, a quick short burst before seeming to get himself under control. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I just, I doubt I’ve ever been ‘not afraid’ my whole life.” He sneaks a glance at Caretakers face, the drops his eyes to the ground again.
Caretaker sighed, feeling his heart pinch. “That’s okay… I’ve never had anyone else on this farm. We’ll just have to learn together.”
Whumpee nodded quickly, seemingly trying to get himself back under his own tight fisted control. “Whumpee, how about you sit out here with me for a bit?”
Whumpee nods, and caretaker relaxes a bit. But, he still wants to know why reading set him on such a narrow edge.
They both ease back into their seats, and caretaker looks around for a change of subject. To his delight, just at that moment, a bird flew into view and perched on one of the trees nearby.
“Hey, look at that! That’s a robin, it’s really starting to warm up. They start to show up in the spring, and that’s the first one I’ve seen this season.”
Whumpee squinted, then nodded, but, caretaker could tell he hadn’t actually seen it, only pretended to. Could he see it? The way he squinted made caretaker wonder if he could need glasses…
“Here, it’s far away, I’ve got a better picture,” slowly, he reaches for his book, and flips it open to the right page, “See?”
Whumpee still tensed up, but, didn’t panic. He looked, genuine interest showing on his face for the first time he’d ever seen.
“It’s a beautiful bird sir…” Whumpee managed, looking up again before letting his eyes fall back to the book.
“Yeah… and there’ll be more, soon.”
He nods, the slightest grace of a smile on his face.
“Is this the book you thought I would be reading? A book about birds?”
Whumpee tensed further, but still didn’t panic, thankfully. “No sir.”
“Is that…good?”
Whumpees breathing stopped, and Caretaker backpedaled. “That’s a bit to open ended, huh? Could you tell me what you thought I might be reading?”
That was better. Whumpee took a deep breath. “The Bible, sir.”
Caretaker felt his heart sink, but also relief. That explained…a lot.
He forced himself to keep the conversation light, knowing the next few questions he was going to need to ask would be hard. “No, just the bird bible I suppose…” he laughs, setting it back down, and though whumpee didn’t laugh, he did relax slightly further.
“Where you were before, after they read the bible, would you be in danger? Is that why it scares you?”
“Yes,” he takes another deep breath, then another, winding himself up once more, “We’d- We would have a sermon, after, and then… sins would be- would be forgiven.”
“Oh…” So that’s why caretaker could never figure out what Whumpee had thought he’d done wrong. He hadn’t been told yet what sins he’d committed.
“I sh-should not be afraid. Sparing the rod spoils the child, I understand, but-“ Whumpee sniffed, and tears dotted the knees of his jeans, “Sometimes I thought I was going to die…”
“Whumpee…” was all Caretaker could manage, horror taking over everything else.
“I d-didn’t want to die with- with sins unforgiven.”
“Kid… that’s- you don’t- that’s not forgiveness, that’s not fair at all…”
Whumpee just shook their head, wiping their eyes.
“Do you- do you still feel like you need to hurt to be forgiven?”
“I do. That’s- that’s what it takes.”
The uncharacteristic steadiness of that sentence made Caretaker very, very worried. “No, no that’s not right. Whumpee, have you been- when I tell you to go to your room, what do you do?”
“I-“ Whumpee had picked quickly on the shift in his tone, the underlying accusation, and seemed to brace himself for the answer he had to give, “I deal with them myself.”
“How?”
Whumpee just shakes his head again, pulling back further, and he wraps his arms around himself like a hug.
“Whumpee, you have to tell me, what have you been doing?” He needed to know, needed to stop this, stop it now.
He shook his head harder, and now Caretaker was caught with an impossible decision. He doubted he could force the answer out of whumpee, but he also couldn’t just let this go, not something like this.
“Whumpee, please, please just tell me. Please don’t make me have to ask again…” He wracked his brain for what was in his room, how any of it could be used in the wrong way, but he was drawing a blank…
“Are- are you going to make me stop?”
“Yes, I have to. You can’t- it’s not- I’ll forgive you, okay? I’ll do it, if you need to be forgiven, I’ll do it. Okay?”
Whumpee looked up, not just a quick glance but held his eyes for a moment. Fear, relief, sadness, all flashed by, but the one that held steady through it all was this bone deep, haunting sense of exhaustion… Whumpee looked defeated.
“I unscrew the top of the bed post… the screw in the bottom is sharp, but, it’s not enough. Please…” Whumpee reached forward with both hands, grabbing one of Caretakers, “please forgive me, please!”
“You have to tell me what you did wrong…” he’s stalling, trying to avoid having to deny Whumpee the “forgiveness” that he wanted so badly.
“I don’t know- I don’t know but I know I have done wrong, but I always do- I know it!”
“Whumpee-“
“You said, you said you’d do it-“
“But I have to know what you did, because I don’t think you did anything wrong.”
Whumpee let go, hitting his forehead with the heels of his hands as he sobbed. “You said! I n-need- I need to be forgiven- I need to be punished!”
“No you don’t!” Without realizing, he had reached over and grabbed Whumpee by the wrists, shaking him, “You don’t need to be hurt, you don’t have to!”
Whumpee shook his head over and over, practically howling as he struggled to free his wrists.
“Please, whumpee, please stop, stop! Listen to me kid, you don’t have to do this!”
“I do, I do, I do I do I do!”
“No, you DON’T!”
Caretaker hasn’t meant to yell, and he instantly regretted it. Whumpee stopped, his chest heaving as he tried to stop crying.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he loosens his grip on whumpees wrists, “Forgiveness doesn’t mean you need to be hurt. I need you to trust me on this. I need you to try.”
Whumpee drew his hands away, hugging himself again, and nodded. Caretaker didn’t know if he nodded because he agreed, or because he was afraid not to. At the moment, Caretaker would take either, as long as whumpee would be unharmed.
“Whumpee… Just sit out here with me. I’ll get us some tea, and we’ll watch the birds. You won’t have anything to be forgiven for.”
He shakes his head again.
“What is wrong about that?”
“There should be…no joy except through God.”
“So, you think you need to be forgiven, for being happy?”
He nods quickly. “You- you’ve been so good to me, and- It means I need more forgiveness.”
Guilt settled in a heavy layer over him, even though there was no way he could have known.
“But-“ he wracked his brain for half-forgotten Sunday school lessons, “God created everything, right?”
“Every leaf, on every tree.”
Caretaker had never believed in God, but, now he knew he had to speak for him.
“Every bird? Every breeze? Every sunset?”
Whumpee nodded, eyes on his knees.
“He made every leaf of tea and every grain of sugar?”
He nodded again, eyes still down.
“Then, how could it be wrong to sit outside, and admire his creation?”
Whumpee looked up, stunned, and then out to the dry grass, the gravel drive…
“So, how about that tea?”
“Okay..”
“Great,” Caretaker felt like he could breath again, “I’ll be right back then.”
When Caretaker came back, Whumpee accepted the glass of tea carefully, and, when his eyes met Caretakers, some of the exhaustion had melted away.
They sat, and watched the birds, until the tea glasses held nothing but ice and they had looked through every picture of every bird in his book.
It would take time, and it would take work, and trust, and lots and lots of questions, but, things would get better.
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By: Gerald Posner
Published: Mar 4, 2024
Newly leaked files from the world’s leading transgender health-care organization reveal it is pushing hormonal and surgical transitions for minors, including stomach-wrenching experimental procedures designed to create sexless bodies that resemble department-store mannequins.
The World Professional Association for Transgender Health documents demonstrate it’s controlled by gender ideologues who push aside concerns about whether children and adolescents can consent to medical treatments that WPATH members privately acknowledge often have devastating and permanent side effects.
Yet the US government, American doctors and prominent organizations nonetheless rely on WPATH guidelines for advice on treating our youth.
The files — jaw-dropping conversations from a WPATH internal messaging board and a video of an Identity Evolution Workshop panel — were provided to journalist Michael Shellenberger, who shared the documents with me.
Shellenberger’s nonprofit Environmental Progress will release a scathing summary report, comparing the WPATH promotion of “the pseudoscientific surgical destruction of healthy genitals in vulnerable people” to the mid-20th-century use of lobotomies, “the pseudoscientific surgical destruction of healthy brains.”
‘Arbitrary’ age limits
The comparison to one of history’s greatest medical scandals is not hyperbole.
It is particularly true, as the files show repeatedly, when it involves WPATH’s radical approach to minors.
When the organization adopted in 2022 its current Standards of Care — relied on by the National Institutes of Health, the World Health Organization and every major American medical and psychiatric association — it scrapped a draft chapter about ethics and removed minimum-age requirements for children starting puberty blockers or undergoing sexual-modification surgeries.
It had previously recommended 16 to start hormones and 17 for surgery.
Not surprisingly, age comes up frequently in the WPATH files, from concerns about whether a developmentally delayed 13-year-old can start on puberty blockers to whether the growth of a 10-year-old girl will be stunted by hormones.
During one conversation, a member asked for advice about a 14-year-old patient, a boy who identified as a girl and had begun transitioning at 4.
The child insisted on a vaginoplasty, a surgery that removes the penis, testicles and scrotum and repositions tissue to create a nonfunctioning pseudo-vagina. It requires a lifetime of dilation. Was he too young at 14?
Marci Bowers, WPATH’s president and a California-based pelvic and gynecologic surgeon who is herself transgender, said she considered any age limit “arbitrary.”
But she would not do it. Why?
“The tissue is too immature, dilation routine too critical.”
In lay terms, that means boys who are too young do not have enough penal tissue for the surgery and the surgeon must harvest intestinal lining to build the faux vagina. Even Bowers admits that can lead to “problematic surgical outcomes.”
She would know since she has performed more than 2,000 vaginoplasties. Her highest-profile patient is 17-year-old Jazz Jennings, the transgender star of reality TV show “I Am Jazz.”
Three corrective surgeries were required to fix problems from the original vaginoplasty.
“She had a very difficult surgical course,” Bowers admitted in a 2022 appearance on the show. “We knew it would be tough — it turned out tougher than any of us imagined.”
Still, Bowers told her colleagues in the internal discussion forum of the best age for an adolescent to undergo surgery: “sometime before the end of high school does make some sense in that they are under the watch of parents in the home they grew up in.”
Christine McGinn, a Pennsylvania plastic surgeon and herself transgender, agreed. McGinn has performed “about 20 vaginoplasties in patients under 18” and thinks the “ideal time in the U.S. is surgery the summer before the last year of high school. I have heard many other surgeons echo this.”
Waiting until teens are older than 18 and in college is problematic, she said: “there are too many stressors in college that limit patients’ ability to dilate.”
Dangers downplayed
WPATH assures patients that surgical and hormonal interventions are tested and safe. It is a different matter in private.
President Bowers, for instance, said publicly in 2022 that puberty blockers are “completely reversible,” although in the internal forum she conceded it is “in its infancy.”
What about children who are infertile for life since they started hormone blockers before they reached puberty?
Bowers told her colleagues the “fertility question has no research.”
At other stages, members talk frankly about the complications for the transition surgery for girls, a phalloplasty in which a nonfunctioning pseudo-penis is fashioned from either forearm or thigh tissue.
It requires a full hysterectomy and surgical removal of the vagina. They also discuss other serious consequences, including pelvic inflammatory disease, vaginal atrophy, abnormal pap tests and incontinence.
A 16-year-old girl who had been on puberty blockers for several years before she was put on testosterone for a year had developed two liver tumors that an oncologist concluded the hormones had caused. Another member described “a young patient on testosterone for 3 years” who had developed “vaginal/pelvic pain/spotting . . . [and] atrophy with the persistent yellow discharge.”
Several colleagues described patients with similar conditions, some with debilitating bowel problems or bleeding and excruciating pain during sex (“feeling like broken glass”).
Vaginal estrogen creams and moisturizers as well as hyaluronic acid suppositories “can be helpful.”
One WPATH member seemed surprised: “The transgender people under my surveillance do not complain about this matter. However, I confess that I have never asked them about it.”
Rise of ‘de-gender’ surgery
The litany of transition surgery’s side effects did not stop WPATH from endorsing far more radical “nullification” surgeries for patients who do not feel either male or female and identify only as nonbinary.
Several dozen so-called “de-gendering” surgeries are designed to create a sexless, smooth cosmetic appearance that is unknown in nature. There is even an experimental “bi-genital” surgery that attempts to construct a second set of genitals.
In 2017, when tabloids reported a 22-year-old man had spent $50,000 to surgically remove his sex organs so he could “transform into a genderless extra-terrestrial,” it seemed a one-off oddity.
But WPATH has enshrined that concept in its Standard of Care — the same document in which the group endorsed for the time first time chemical or surgical castration for patients who identify as eunuchs. (WPATH even linked to the Eunuch Archives, where men anonymously share castration fetishes.)
These science-fiction-like surgeries are not only reserved for adults.
“How do we come up with appropriate standards for non-binary patients?” asked Thomas Satterwhite, a San Francisco-based plastic surgeon who has operated on dozens of patients younger than 18 since 2014. “I’ve found more and more patients recently requesting ‘non-standard’ procedures.”
What are nonstandard procedures? They include “non-binary top surgery,” a mastectomy without nipples. There are brutal procedures for girls that eliminate all or part of the vagina and for boys that amputate the penis, scrotum and testicles.
The goal, as one San Francisco surgical clinic proclaims on its website, “is a smooth, neutral body that is cosmetically free of sexual identification.” On TikTok the trend is called a “flat front.”
‘Too young to understand‘
A particularly intense subject of discussion was whether minors could understand the lifelong consequences of their gender treatments. Minors are presumed by law to be incapable of making an informed decision about having a vasectomy or tubal ligation.
Gender surgeries are an exception, however.
WPATH’s Standard of Care allows all procedures so long as the minor “demonstrates the emotional and cognitive maturity required to provide informed consent/assent for the treatment.”
In a May 2022 internal workshop, “Identity Evolution,” WPATH members conceded that was all but impossible.
Daniel Metzger, the British Columbia endocrinologist who cowrote the Canadian Pediatric Society’s position paper on health care for trans minors, said, “I think the thing you have to remember about kids is that we’re often explaining these sorts of things to people who haven’t even had biology in high school yet.”
Metzger noted adolescents are incapable of appreciating the lifelong consequence of infertility. “It’s always a good theory that you talk about fertility preservation with a 14-year-old,” he said, “but I know I’m talking to a blank wall. They’d be like, ‘ew, kids, babies, gross.’ Or, the usual answer is, ‘I’m just going to adopt.’ And then you ask them, ‘Well, what does that involve? Like, how much does it cost?’ ‘Oh, I thought you just like went to the orphanage, and they gave you a baby.’ . . . I think now that I follow a lot of kids into their mid-twenties, I’m always like, ‘Oh, the dog isn’t doing it for you, right?’”
There is extensive research showing adolescent brains are wired to have little control over rash behavior and are not capable of grasping the magnitude of decisions with lifelong consequences. It is why society doesn’t allow teens to get tattoos or buy guns. Car-rental agencies set 25 as the minimum age for renting a car, and Sweden sets the same limit for deciding on sterilization.
Detransitioners ignored, shunned
Although many WPATH members privately doubt that adolescents can give truly informed consent to life-altering procedures, they must affirm whatever children say about their gender.
Unless, the WPATH files disclose, the patient wants to reverse course and become a so-called detransitioner.
WPATH members mostly dismiss those cases as insignificant or overblown by the media and question whether minors who want to revert to their birth sex really understand what they are doing.
It’s a question that would never be asked for minors who declared themselves to be gender dysphoric.
One case involved a 17-year-old boy, just graduated from high school, who had been on testosterone for two years. He was reported to be “very distraught and angry. He reports he feels he was brainwashed and is upset by the permanent changes to his body.”
A self-described “queer therapist” did not believe any young person could be brainwashed. “In my experience, those stories come from people who have an active agenda against the rights of trans people.”
WPATH President Bowers said that “I do see talk of the phenomenon [detransitioners] as distracting from the many challenges we face.”
‘Frankenstein files’
The leaked files put a spotlight on the danger of mixing ideological activism with medicine and science. They should serve as an urgent wakeup call for the medical associations and government agencies that rely on WPATH guidance for transgender health.
The files might even prompt investigations into how those with distorted personal agendas seized control of the organization at the expense of science and patients.
Investigating what has gone wrong at WPATH might prove uncomfortable for some gender progressives in the Biden administration, none more so than Adm. Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health. Levine, the first transgender four-star military officer, is a WPATH member and has lavished praise on the organization.
She says it “assesses the full state of the science and provides substantive, rigorously analyzed, peer-reviewed recommendations to the medical community on how best to care for patients who are transgender or gender non-binary. It is free of any agenda other than to ensure that medical decisions are informed by science.”
Either Levine is unaware of the hormonal and surgical experimentation the group promotes or refuses to acknowledge it.
“The Frankenstein files.”
That is how a pediatrician described the leaked documents after I shared them with her.
Unfortunately, this is no horror novel.
It is a medical travesty playing out in real time, and the casualties are our children.
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