As a psychiatrist, I thought I understood identity and development – until my daughter showed me who she was.

I’ve spent years studying human development, trauma, mood disorders and anxiety. I trained at leading institutions, specialised in adult and women’s mental health, and supported individuals across the gender spectrum.

But nothing has taught me more about authenticity, courage and unconditional love than raising my transgender daughter.

There was no dramatic declaration. She didn’t stand up one day and say, “I’m not a boy.” It unfolded slowly – like breadcrumbs gently guiding us home.

She borrowed a friend’s princess dress and didn’t want to give it back. She cried after every haircut, gravitated toward sparkles and mermaids, adored strong, magical female characters, and always seemed out of place in the boys’ section. Over time, she didn’t need to say the words. We just knew.

One night after a playdate, she slipped into a borrowed pink princess nightgown. She twirled, smiled and said, “It’s a little itchy … but I want to sleep in it. It makes me feel beautiful.”

Hearing those last five words – “it makes me feel beautiful” – cracked something open. I saw her – not just my child, but her truth. And I couldn’t unsee it.

She socially transitioned when she was 5. That meant we began using her chosen name and she/her pronouns. She wore the clothes she loved. She introduced herself as a girl.

It wasn’t about pushing an identity on her – it was about letting her finally exhale.

And yes, I was scared. I worried she was too young and questioned whether she understood what she was saying. But when I stopped projecting my fear onto her, I realised the fear was mine – not hers. It came from everything I’d been taught and everything I thought I knew.

As a psychiatrist, I knew gender identity was a natural part of life. But I wasn’t trained to affirm it – especially when it defied expectations.

We studied gender identity through a clinical, often pathological lens – under diagnoses like “gender dysphoria”. The focus was on distress, not joy. On incongruence, not authenticity.

We were taught in medical school how to label it, not how to understand it. No one told us that being transgender could be a radiant expression of self or that a........

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