'My Teen Is Trans, after Roe I'm Terrified for His Future'

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I knew that the overturning of Roe v. Wade would be incredibly harmful for women and other individuals with uteruses, but I didn't initially realize that it could also harm my trans son.

We live in Alabama and just days after the Supreme Court's decision, the state asked the 11th Circuit to overturn a partial injunction to the Alabama Vulnerable Child Compassion and Protection Act. They even cited the Roe verdict in their appeal.

This partial injunction had prevented doctors who prescribe hormones and puberty blockers to trans minors from being charged with a Class C felony. If it is appealed, doctors could face up to 10 years in jail for prescribing these drugs.

We don't know what this would mean for my 17-year-old son, Phin, as he has already been injecting himself with testosterone every week for the past year. He's physically changing—his voice is much lower and his body has changed shape—but he's also much happier and says he feels more like himself. So what does it mean if that medicine is taken away from him? It could have a terrible impact on his mental health.

My son is a boy. When he told me he was trans at 14, I was initially surprised. But now I realize I've always had a son—I just didn't know it. I see it that Phin's brain is male but he was born with the genetics that come with female characteristics. It's not his fault, it's just the hand he was dealt. This medication is how we deal with it.

Trace Trice With Her Transgender Son, Phineas
Trace Fleming-Trice (right) with her son, Phin, in 2020. Fleming-Trice worries what the recent Alabama appeal could mean for her 17-year-old transgender son.

We went to the gender clinic at the local children's hospital when Phin was 14. The entire medical team was excellent, but they wanted to wait to prescribe testosterone until he was 16. This was the team being careful, and we respected that.

So we waited for two years, which was hard. During this period, my son struggled with body dysmorphia and he didn't like to see his reflection, so he would cover up mirrors and wear extra clothes. I'd be like, "You live in Alabama, you cannot wear two sweatshirts—it's too hot!"

The medication has been a total game-changer. He's happier. He laughs more. He feels comfortable wearing T-shirts and sometimes he will wear a suit. He went to prom with his partner a few weeks ago and it was so cute to see them being kids, being happy, and doing the things you're supposed to do when you're a teenager. It's every parent's dream to see your child being the best they can be.

At the same time, Phin's safety is always on our minds because trans teenagers are such a vulnerable population. They're more vulnerable to mental health issues and 7.6 times more likely to attempt suicide, according to a 2022 study by the University of Ottawa. They also have a higher risk of homelessness, with between 20 and 40 percent of homeless youth being LGBTQ. Plus, they are often victims of violence—and not just physical violence, but the emotional violence of, "No, you can't use the bathroom."

When I heard Alabama was appealing the partial injunction, I felt concerned for my son's future. But at a certain point, you become numb because if you stay in a state of constant panic, you can't get anything done. We're focused on planning what we will do if the appeal is successful.

Phineas In His Hometown in Alabama
Phin Fleming-Smith, 17, at home in Alabama in 2022. He will leave Alabama if the law is changed to ban transgender minors from accessing treatment.

If the law passes, my son won't stay in Alabama. We'll figure out a way to get him to a safer state. Next year, Phin will be taking dual enrollment classes at the University of Alabama for his first year of college. However, if the state's appeal is successful, he might have to move to a school up North that is more supportive of LGBT folk.

I am legally bound to Alabama because I share custody of my other son with my ex-husband, but we've talked about leaving.

We don't want to leave. Phin would like to stay in Alabama—he loves the weather and we have a great community of friends and neighbors. But we can't keep taping the windows and trying to survive the storm of conservatism that plagues Alabama.

Alabama breaks my heart over and over again. Some of the people here are the kindest and most loving, wonderful folk. People think that there are no progressives in Alabama but that's not true. There's so much good here, but I don't believe the state will see its full potential until we have more progressive politics in Montgomery and at a local level.

There's a phrase that goes around a lot online: "Today we're going to grieve, tomorrow we're going to fight." I've come to the point where I don't necessarily grieve anymore about Alabama. I want to see the state being fought for in a good way, to see our representatives fight for real causes and not against vulnerable children.

Phin is definitely anxious about what is happening but he's also secure in the idea that his mama is going to fight for him. He just knows it. He will ask me about our next steps and even if I say, "I don't know but we're going to figure it out" he feels better. He has such trust in us and that's a big responsibility but it's what parents are supposed to do. It's my job to do whatever it takes to make things better for him.

Trace Fleming-Trice has been involved with LGBTQ advocacy since 2020. She works as a Director of Field Education in the Social Work Department of Talladega College, and is also the founder of the organization Self-Care for Advocates.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

As told to Katie Russell.

About the writer

Trace Fleming-Trice