Gender, Suffering, and the Moral Boundaries of Peace
A meditation on transgender pain, the spiritual dignity of embodiment, and why safeguarding women and children is not hatred—but a deeper kind of care.
The Body, the Soul, and the Search for Peace
This is not a condemnation. This is not a denial of suffering. This is a message of empathy, spiritual depth, and a longing to find a path of peace for those who are truly struggling.
Let us begin with the truth: People who identify as transgender are often in deep, prolonged pain. Many suffer from depression, anxiety, alienation, and suicidal thoughts. Statistically, these individuals have among the highest rates of suicide attempts in the world.
This is not because they are weak. This is because something deep within them feels displaced.
And I believe them. I believe they feel alien in their own bodies. I believe many feel like they were meant to live as the opposite sex. And I believe their pain is real.
But I do not believe the current solution is working.
The Evidence is Not Settled
Even after gender-affirming surgery and hormonal transition, many studies show that mental health does not improve significantly for a large portion of individuals. Some continue to struggle deeply—still feeling lost, still seeking peace.
According to the National Center for Transgender Equality, 40% of transgender adults have attempted suicide, with most of those attempts occurring before age 25. Rates of depression and anxiety are also significantly higher among transgender individuals.
A comprehensive Danish study from 2023, which followed 3,759 individuals who identified as transgender between 1980 and 2021, found:
92 suicide attempts
12 completed suicides
A suicide attempt rate 7.7 times higher than the general Danish population
A suicide death rate 3.5 times higher
These are not numbers to be ignored. They point to deep suffering—but also raise important questions about the long-term effectiveness of medical intervention alone.
But we must be clear: this suffering may not be only because they feel misplaced in their bodies. It may also be because of societal rejection, judgment, and cruelty. The world can be hostile. The world can be unforgiving. And no one deserves to face that pain alone.
Whatever path they walk—they deserve respect, dignity, and compassion.
The Ethics of Inclusion and the Cost of Erasure
But there is another layer to this pain—one not only felt by those transitioning, but by others who are quietly hurting. In our effort to honor transgender identities, have we forgotten to ask: what is the impact on women and girls? How do we protect female-only spaces—hospitals, shelters, bathrooms, prisons, and sports—from policies that no longer define "woman" as a biological category?
In athletics, the consequences are particularly stark. Girls and women are losing medals, scholarships, and opportunities—not because they weren’t good enough, but because the playing field was no longer level. Female bodies, with their own beauty and limits, are being asked to compete against male physiology redefined as identity.
And yet this isn’t just about trophies. It’s about truth. It’s about whether we still believe the female body matters—or whether we are ready to erase it in the name of inclusion.
Compassion must never erase the rights of others to safety, dignity, and truth.
I simply find myself at a crossroads. Because I believe, with all my heart, that male and female bodies are sacred. They are not costumes. They are not mistakes. They cannot be manufactured.
They are temporary vessels for the soul’s journey. They are here to teach us something deep. And I believe that accepting and learning from the body we were given—not altering it—may lead to the peace we all seek.
I do not believe this is because they are not strong enough. I believe it is because the solution is focused on the flesh, not the soul.
I Believe in the Soul
And I believe in reincarnation. What if some of these people have lived 1000 lives as a man, and were suddenly born in a female body—or the reverse? Would that not cause confusion, disconnection, even suffering? I believe these souls may have aligned themselves with a particular gender through lifetimes of repetition. Their pain may not be delusion—it may be spiritual inertia, the echo of a self long practiced.
But instead of rushing to alter the body, perhaps the deeper journey is to find acceptance, beauty, and purpose in the form we were given this time.
This is not easy. But neither is surgery. Neither is a lifetime of medication. Neither is a lifetime of being misunderstood by both sides.
I do not believe that happiness lies in plastic surgery, hormone replacement, or medical transitions. Just as I do not believe in cosmetic surgery as a path to self-worth, or in steroids as a way to feel powerful and accepted, I do not believe peace can be found through pills and knives. These are shortcuts that treat the surface, not the soul.
Both Sexes Are Sacred
As a man, I can say with honesty: I would love to experience the female life— not because I hate being male, but because I believe every life, every gender, every role is a lesson for the soul.
The female experience is sacred. So is the male. So is the journey of someone trying to understand themselves in between.
But we must stop pretending this is simple. We must stop silencing anyone who speaks with nuance, with compassion, with spirituality.
To say both sexes are sacred is also to say they are distinct. The female body, with its unique vulnerabilities and powers, has long required protected spaces—spaces earned through generations of struggle. If we blur those lines entirely, what happens to the rights women have fought for? Boundaries are not hatred. Sometimes, they are love with structure.
There is another way. Not a path of rejection. But a path of deep self-love. A path that says: “This is the body I was given this time. What does it have to teach me?”
You are not broken. You are becoming. Not through surgery, but through spirit. Not through medicine, but through meaning.
To those suffering: I believe you. And I love you enough to say—there may be a better way. Your soul is not a mistake. And to the women and children quietly wondering if anyone sees their unease, if anyone remembers their needs—I see you too. We must find a way that honors both truth and tenderness. That protects the soul without erasing the body. A path not of medical correction, but of spiritual integration. A return to self-trust. To inner dignity. To wholeness without harm. That makes room for everyone, but not at the cost of anyone.