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RITCHIE HERRON lives in pain.
He struggles with incontinence, weakened bones, a numb crotch and suicidal feelings.
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But the 35-year-old’s symptoms are not the result of a genetic disorder or disease.
In fact, they were entirely avoidable.
Ten years ago, Ritchie, who was born a male, had two 30-minute medical appointments that resulted in him being diagnosed as transgender [trapped in the wrong body].
An NHS gender clinic referred him for an operation to remove his genitals.
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But Ritchie says he had serious misgivings ahead of the surgery and now bitterly regrets it.
Ritchie, who is gay, is one of a growing community of detransitioners — people who regret their gender operations.
Such is the demand for detransitioning, the NHS this month announced it is launching a new service for patients who want to return to their birth gender.
Ritchie finally feels like his concerns are being taken seriously.
He says: “I regret undertaking this procedure. I regret having that surgery and I regret trusting the people who recommended it to me.
“It’s less about doing the impossible and reversing what cannot be reversed. It’s more about improving the quality of life of those who have been harmed by the previous surgeries.”
For him, this would mean urinating is no longer painful, he does not suffer constant infections, and he can access proper guidance on hormones and aftercare.
Love-bombing
He adds: “I understand that you can’t recreate what was lost; there is no going back with this. But we are not having these issues resolved in the way that you would expect, with the pain, and especially the psychological side.”
Growing up, Ritchie suffered from severe obsessive compulsive disorder, autism and regular panic attacks.
He was bullied at school and increasingly found himself escaping online.
“The problem is,” he tells me, from his home in Newcastle, “I found some really dodgy websites and a lot of predators hanging around.”
I had hidden the fact that I was gay, from myself even, and all of a sudden it made sense that I was really a woman
Ritchie
After years of suppressing his homosexuality, Ritchie came across a website that discussed “gender dysphoria”, and became convinced he wanted to become a woman.
He began posting photographs of himself online and soon much older men, some in their 50s, were love-bombing him.
Ritchie explains: “I had hidden the fact that I was gay, from myself even, and all of a sudden it made sense that I was really a woman.”
But when he began feeling suicidal, aged 24, he went to his doctor.
Ritchie now knows he had post-traumatic stress disorder, but at the time all he knew was that he felt very unwell.
He claims he was diagnosed as transgender without his mental health issues being explored or treated.
The NHS waiting list was long, so in March 2014 he took out a loan to attend a private clinic, which can offer formal diagnosis and access to hormone medications and surgeries.
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He was given two 30-minute assessment appointments.
The psychiatrist’s first recommendation was that Ritchie take testosterone blockers, which reduce masculine traits such as facial hair.
He was then recommended surgery.
Ritchie says: “I was very vulnerable.”
By March 2015 he was a patient at Newcastle’s NHS gender clinic.
He says: “The first question you get asked there is, ‘Do you want genital surgery?’ I wasn’t sure. But I’d heard you could get therapy if you were on the waiting list for surgery, so I said yes.”
Four months later he was referred for vaginoplasty [surgery to remove the male genitalia to create a vagina].
He turned down the surgery, saying he was unsure — but continued going to therapy, because it was “a lifeline” for him.
There was another referral for the operation in 2017.
This time, Ritchie was told that turning it down would result in him being discharged from the service.
It sent him into a “tailspin”.
He says he was persuaded into surgery without having really thought about what it would entail.
As he was wheeled into the operating theatre in May 2018 Ritchie realised he was making a mistake.
He says the results of the “gender-affirming treatment” immediately worsened his mental and physical health.
Six years later Ritchie’s surgical scars still weep, it takes him ten minutes to urinate and he has little sexual function.
Hormone blockers have wreaked havoc on his bones.
Ritchie considers himself to be a victim of “experimental surgery”.
He explains: “Just because it’s been an amputation that’s been done for many decades doesn’t mean it’s refined.
“It’s still experimental.”
Ritchie’s expectations from the NHS’s recently announced detransitioning service are measured.
All of a sudden, we’ve got this community of people who are going to lovebomb us and affirm us. They’re not going to challenge us. And you obviously don’t want to lose that
Ritchie
He insists he does “not want to be referred for another “set of surgeries”.
He says: “I’m just looking to minimise the pain and suffering that I’m enduring.
“Hopefully there are other procedures that might work that can help with what I have, rather than going down another experimental route.”
Best interests
Ritchie adds: “Obviously it is very emasculating to not have male genitals.
“It’s one of my hesitations with going on a complete dose of testosterone, because . . . what am I turning into?
“I’ve already castrated myself and it’s like, I don’t want to get bald and get a beard and all that when I haven’t got anything down below. It already doesn’t look quite right.”
Ritchie feels strongly that there needs to be an immediate “pause on all of these surgeries and a systematic review of the data”.
He adds: “Not just the people who answer surveys six months after surgery, but what does the longitudinal data say?”
He points out that, prior to transitioning, many patients were extremely depressed and isolated.
Ritchie says: “All of a sudden, we’ve got this community of people who are going to lovebomb us and affirm us. They’re not going to challenge us. And you obviously don’t want to lose that [community]”.
Ritchie wants there to be more protections in place.
He says: “My case is a good chance to illuminate that. The detransitioners have a role to play in the trans debate, because a lot of people haven’t been listened to and are very angry.”
He fears young transitioners may not have the confidence to fight for their care like he has.
Ritchie says: “They are very much alone.”
In the meantime, he worries about what the future will look like for those who have decided to transition.
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He says: “On paper, transitioning sounds brilliant, but in reality, it is nothing like it. And how you feel in the first year, may change over time”.
Ritchie warns: “I don’t want you to do what I did and just assume that [the clinicians] have your best interests in heart.”
Today, this brave campaigner is looking to the future and is in a happy relationship.
He says: “I do have a partner who is very understanding.
“There’s more to relationships than sex, but I’m not going to deny it’s not a big part.
“And I’ve just kind of accepted that a lot of my pleasure is kind of forfeit in this.
“I just don’t have it. But I get a lot of benefit from being with him and seeing his pleasure.”
While Ritchie still grieves for his former body, he says: “I will always see myself as a man.
“I’m quite happy being a little bit androgynous.
“I’m a neutered man, but I’m still a man.”
Newcastle’s NHS gender clinic was contacted for comment.
