Hi ! I've seen that your instance does not allow such long image descriptions. Here is still the transcript, so everybody can access the image's content :

when say let kids be kids I mean in my opinion let them be as they is and they can change at the age limit.

The problem ss that this isn't a harmless option. There are real, immediate, permanent, and dire consequences for forcing a kid to live through a puberty that isn't right for them.

You seem like a dude. Imagine, for a moment, that you're twelve, and all of a sudden you start growing boobs. Like, at first, seems like a novelty, right? Hey, look at this! Your friends make some jokes about them. Everyone laughs.

Now you're thirteen. They're still making jokes, and you're getting tired of the jokes. You try to laugh, but it's the same joke they've been making for a year now, and it's tiring. And your tits are still growing. Now they're big enough that you have to wear a bra any time you're out of bed. You can't work out shirtless, like you like. The sweat trickles down underneath and makes your skin stick to itself. They jiggle when you run. It hurts.

Now you're fourteen. Your tits are still growing. Why won't they stop fucking growing? You had to throw your bras away last month and get a hunch of new ones, and your parents told you that they were so expensive that you're going to have to go without new clothes for school this year, or only get thrift ones. Your friends are still making those stupid fucking jokes. You're starting to distance yourself from them. It's lonely after school.

Now you're fifteen. The doctors say your tits are unusually large for your stage of puberty and they're still growing. They say you'll get used to them, and if you don't like them, you can have them removed when you're eighteen. In three years. But there's a six-to-eight-month wait for the surgery once you're on the onramp, so it's closer to four years anyway. You had to get new bras again, and your parents made you get a job if you want new clothes for school. The customers at Burger King laugh at your tits. It's the same joke your friends started making when you were twelve. Why does everyone think it's so fucking funny? You haven't talked to any of them in a couple of months anyway, especially after John asked if he could squeeze one. Fucking gross. You had to quit the track team because they bounce so much, and the only sports bras that'd keep them properly immobilized so you can still run cost $100 per bra. The girls at school won't be your friend either, because you're a man, and they think a man with tits is gross.

Now you're sixteen...

Are you starting to get the picture here? Every single trans man lives through this if he doesn't go on puberty blockers. Every single trans woman grows thicker brow and jaw hones, has a voice that breaks and drops forever, grows and broadens, in ways that can never be undone. A torture she has to live with for the rest of her life.

I am size 11 in Men's shoes (EU 45). On the larger size, but not too bad. But in women's sizind, I'm a 13--there are only 5 manufacturers in the entire United States who make women's shoes in my size, and one of them is Pleaser. Yes, the Pleaser who makes stripper shoes. There are entire types of women's shoe that I literally cannot get, and if I want a pair of sneaker —plain old fashioned sneakers— I have to order them online and hope they're comfortable, because no store in my entire city stocks Size 13's.

Puberty blockers would've kept me from having to live this for the rest of my life.

And that's why it's an out-and-out cruelty to force trans teens to live through the wrong puberty.

#ALT4you

#ALT4you

| when I say let kids be kids I mean in my opinion let them be as they is and they can change at the age limit.

The problem is that this isn't a harmless option. There are real, immediate, permanent, and dire consequences for for forcing a kid to live through a puberty that isn't right for them.

You seem like a dude. Imagine, for a moment, that you're twelve, and all of a sudden you start growing boobs. Like, at first, seems like a novelty, nght? Hey, look at this! Your friends make some jokes about them. Everyone laughs.

Now you're thirteen. They're still making jokes, and you're getting tired of the jokes. You try to laugh, but it's the same joke they've been making for a year now, and it's tinng. And your tits are still growing. Now they're big enough that you have to wear a bra any time you're out of bed. You can't work out shirtless, like you like. The sweat tnckles down underneath and makes your skin stick to itself. They jiggle when you run. It hurts.

Now you're fourteen. Your tits are still growing. Why won't they stop fucking growing? You had to throw your bras away last month and get a bunch of new ones, and your parents told you that they were so expensive that you're going to have to go without new clothes for school this year, or only get thnft ones. Your friends are still making those stupid fucking jokes. You're starting to distance yourself from them. It's lonely after school.

Now you're fifteen. The doctors say your tits are unusually large for your stage of puberty and they’re still growing. They say you'll get used to them, and if you don't like them, you can have them removed when you're eighteen. In three years. But there's a six to eight-month wait for the surgery once you're on the onramp, so it's closer to four years anyway. You had to get new bras again, and your parents made you get a job if you want new clothes for school. The customers at Burger King laugh at your tits. It's the same joke your fnends started making when you were twelve. Why does everyone think it's so fucking funny? You haven’t talked to any of them in a couple of months anyway, especially after John asked if he could squeeze one. Fucking gross. You had to quit the track team because they bounce so much, and the only sports bras that'd keep them properly immobilized so you can still run cost $100 per bra. The giris at school won't be your frend either, because you're a man, and they think a man wth tits is gross.

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