Jaron Seth Bloshinsky / Jazz Jennings / I Am Jazz - Puberty Blockers: Not Even Once

[Enoby Way]

Merry Christmas everyone. It's been a strange year, yet no matter how harsh things might look, always remember: at least your mother didn't troon you out.

You don't know my life.

 

[northstar747]

He already admitted that he is a secret binge eater and that he likes to take the car and go thru lots of different drive thru fast food places and also keeps stashes of food in his room.

he will never get help and fix himself mentally. His mama has taught him that surgery will fix everything but there is no surgical fix for being a lazy fatass who is mentally ill.

I disagree he s a victim of abuse, not a troon who watched too much tranny porn, he had his natural development fucked with on account of his mother.

I remember money victim killed himself for what was done to him. I can see jared doing that.

 

[Shiversblood]

Dorian electras drawn on mustache asbouletly kills it for me. In a negative manner. I no like.

 

[Krokodil Overdose]

I wish he wasn't so averse to getting mental health support and proper psychiatric care instead of alt-med stuff. When did he start with this, not trusting therapists or any medical professionals except surgeons?

I mean... he's kinda right, considering his entire life has been the medical profession (both surgical and psychiatric) failing and using him as opposed to looking out for his actual best interests. Considering his past-life regression where he was (lol) a gay man whose family wouldn't accept him and his weird poetry about being a boy in a wig, I'd say he knows there's something profoundly wrong with his life even if he doesn't have the frame of reference to properly verbalize it.

 

[IBrokeBob]

Well it seems jazz is weight gain is right in track with their chosen life

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-9092843/Children-identify-gay-transgender-64-likely-obese.html

Children who identify as gay, bisexual or transgender are 64% MORE likely to be obese, study finds​

• US-based researchers gave virtual questionnaires to almost 12,000 children
• Average age was ten-years-old and asked about sexual and gender identity
• Sexual and gender minority (SGM) children are 64% more at risk of obesity
• 190 children (1.6%) identified as SGM, which includes gay and transgender
• SGM children were found to be 3.5x more likely to suffer a binge-eat

Wtf tho! Why are they questioning children whose average age is 10 about gender issues? You know what I was at age 10? A fucking kid who thought sex was gross and would have been completely grossed out by pervy adults asking me about sex and gender.

 

[NerdShamer]

Well it seems jazz is weight gain is right in track with their chosen life

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-9092843/Children-identify-gay-transgender-64-likely-obese.html

Children who identify as gay, bisexual or transgender are 64% MORE likely to be obese, study finds​

• US-based researchers gave virtual questionnaires to almost 12,000 children
• Average age was ten-years-old and asked about sexual and gender identity
• Sexual and gender minority (SGM) children are 64% more at risk of obesity
• 190 children (1.6%) identified as SGM, which includes gay and transgender
• SGM children were found to be 3.5x more likely to suffer a binge-eat

You know, the important thing to consider is that 190 out of 12,000 kids are gay or trans. And the problem with doing research on minorities is that any trend can be reported as "X is significantly more likely to be Y" on account of how the math works. Plus, you're missing out on what's causing the binge-eating, as well.

And for some reason, it also says that blacks, Asians, and Mexicans are also more likely to be obese.

 

[Shiversblood]

Asians aren’t meant to be in the USA. Asians in Asian countries are all very thin, but as soon as a Asian comes to the USA they just start gaining weight immediately.

if you cut off your penis you can’t really have sex or at least you can’t penetrate anyone with ur penis anymore so they must turn to food after the penis is gone. Without a penis food probably tastes better because they don’t have the penis anymore and just have the food and then tons and tons of weight gain occurs. Sad cycle of weight gain and penis missing.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

I would LOVE if someone would analyze/read the Being Jazz book similar to what was done in the Schofield thread. I tried my hand at it but was finding red flags in literally every sentence and gave up out of exhaustion. But if one of you brave souls has some extra time and autism, much obliged.

If you want a short summary of what happens in the book without the analysis/psychological investigation of paragraphs, I'll put some interesting shit here for you:

-Jazz essentially was obsessed with girl shit from the instant he was born. Mermaids, pink, Disney shit, etc. He would throw a tantrum being in normal boy clothes.
-Jeanette thought he was going to be a girl because of creepy pagan woo charms shit and was pissed when she found out he was a boy.
-Ari was peeved that Jazz was now supposed to be her "Sister". She misgendered him several times and gave no fucks.
-Jazz was a little brat, throwing tantrums all the time. He threw a tantrum over getting a blue toothbrush instead of a pink one.
-Greg was less than thrilled about Jazz being trans but slowly accepted it like the cuck he was.
-Jazz would try to pick at/tuck his penis in school all the time to the point where it became a problem that the teachers had to speak up on. He was also obsessed with drawing boobs/vaginas. This is as early as elementary school.
-Jazz grew up obsessed with his girl friend's boobs. He'd stare at them all the time and would be jealous.
-Jazz would steal all of Ari's things and dress up in Ari's clothes. He even wore her bras.
-Jazz got cucked out of playing girls soccer.
-Jazz flashed his penis to his girl friends at sleepovers. Again, elementary age.
-Jazz would piss himself in protest for not being allowed to go into the girl's bathroom.
-One of Jazz's childhood best friends called him out and said he was a selfish brat. Jazz broke up their friendship.
-In fifth grade, Jazz thirsted over this boy and was ready to jump him with makeout time. He essentially scared the boy off. It's pretty cringy. Jazz would constantly blurt out wanting to make out with people, to the point where his family was uncomfortable.
-Jazz met Obama.
-Most people that Jazz tries to befriend seem genuinely creeped out/disgusted by him. The book demonizes them of course.
-Jazz wakes up his parents to tell them that he french-kissed two girls.
-Jazz's friends were obsessed with Stephen King's It and Jazz was convinced they were talking about him.
-There's a sad Q&A with Jazz's family at the end as well as some genuinely depressing family pictures.
-Ari laments not getting one on one time with her mom anymore. Misery.

That's the most I could glean quickly off the top of my head. Overall, lots of really creepy moments. Jazz comes off like someone either touched him or he's legit autistic. It's really quite horrifying.

Sure, I can do it. Coincidentally, I was also the one who read through the Schofield book.


Juicy bits from the book, part 1:
The necklace test, the vagina fairy and the GID diagnosis. Spoilered for length.

Spoiler

The book starts with this picture of baby Jazz:


Chapter one is called "When is the good fairy going to come with her magic wand"? and talks about Jazz's origin story.

I think you've already been over this passage about the necklace test and the dress onesie, but I'll repost it anyways:

When my mom, Jeanette, got pregnant with me, she was convinced she was going to have a girl. At her baby shower, her friends all crowded around her belly and did the necklace test—that old-timey trick that’s supposed to predict what kind of baby a woman is going to have. You hold a necklace with something heavy attached to it, like a pendant or a ring, over a pregnant belly, and if it swings back and forth it means she’s having a boy. If it moves in a circle, a girl is supposedly on the way. This witchy little version of a gender-test ultrasound nailed it with every single one of my mom’s pregnancies. It just took a little longer for everyone to realize the fetus fairies actually got it right with me. When Mom was pregnant with my older sister, Ari, she and my dad, Greg, had just moved to Florida so he could start his law practice. She only had a few new friends at the time, so she didn’t have an official baby shower but still did the necklace test with her pals from Lamaze class. It circled around, and Mom gained a lot of weight (she tells me, mostly in her face and butt). When she got pregnant again with my twin brothers, Griffen and Sander, two years later and had an official shower, the necklace marched back and forth like a little soldier. With the boys, she barely gained any weight. No one could tell she had a bun in the oven if they looked at her from the back, which is especially weird since she had a couple of them in there! I was a surprise. When my mom first started feeling sick less than a couple of years after the twins, she thought she had the flu. As soon as she realized what was really happening and began putting on tons of weight, she knew she was going to have another daughter even before her friends did the necklace trick for the third time in her life and it spun around in circles like crazy. Everything about the pregnancy was identical to what she had gone through with Ari, so she was completely shocked when the official ultrasound revealed a penis on my body.

As I began to grow, my family thought my obsessive interest in girly things was just a normal developmental phase. I have really strong memories of the emotions I felt before I could speak, as well as my actions—I figured out how to undo the snaps on my onesie to turn it into a dress shortly after I began to walk.

Jazz claims that as a toddler, he had vagina envy and wanted to dress like his sister:

Like any kid, I took a lot of baths with my brothers and sister, and I’d compare my genitals to theirs. My little penis felt so wrong on me. I wished I could take the sponge and wipe it off, and behind it I’d magically find a “gagina” like what my sister and my mom had. It definitely bothered me, but I remember feeling frustrated and confused more than anything else. It was a strange growth hanging off me that didn’t look at all like it belonged there. When I finally did start to talk, I’d say “dwess like Awee” to my mom every time she put clothes on me. She misunderstood, thinking I was trying to show off my independence and letting her know that I could dress myself just like my older sister did.

He claims to have liked dresses because they were comfortable but then says he loved walking around in heels since he was in diapers. Heels aren't comfortable even when they fit properly and I doubt they make them in baby size.

I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than what made me the most comfortable. And during the day, what made me comfortable was wearing a dress. Around the house, I was pretty much allowed to wear whatever I wanted. I’d steal Ari’s oversize pink or purple T-shirts and wobble around the kitchen in dress-up heels covered in feathers. (In fact, I first started wearing those heels back when I was still in diapers.)

The tale of the good fairy:

When I was around two years old, I had what I now refer to as the Good Fairy dream. After a long morning of playing with Ari’s dolls, dressing them up and staring enviously at the smooth area between their legs, I took a nap in my sister’s bed. I had no idea that I was asleep—the world seemed crystal clear as a grown woman wearing a blue gown floated into the room. She wasn’t quite like the imaginary creatures you see in cartoons, but I knew instinctively that she was a fairy, thanks to her gossamer wings, the glowing light all around her, and the magic wand that suddenly appeared in her hand. Other than those fantasy details, she looked and acted like an adult, full of purpose and authority. I don’t remember her exact words, or even if she spoke out loud at all, but I knew why she was there. She promised to use her wand to turn my penis into a vagina. I was ecstatic when I woke up. I felt like all the answers to my prayers were possible. The dream had felt so true, so real, that I knew it was just a matter of time before the fairy would appear again and do what she’d said she could do. I ran downstairs and found my mother sitting in our living room. “When is the Good Fairy going to come with her magic wand?” I asked. “The who?” “The Good Fairy, who will turn my penis into a vagina!” My mom tells me now that this was a huge turning point for her, the first time she truly began to realize that what I was going through probably wasn’t a phase. I remember being crushed when she said no fairy was going to come for me. I had been filled with so much hope when I’d woken up, and it was destroyed within a matter of minutes.

So Jazz was gender nonconforming and had an unhealthy obsession with genitals. The Bloshinskis decided to go doctor shopping to get their three year old a gender identity disorder diagnosis:

It wasn’t like Mom had never heard of someone being transgender. She had a general understanding of what it meant, as did Grandma Jacky. It had just never occurred to them that a kid could know with so much certainty at such a young age. Mom took all this information to my pediatrician, who, after giving her a pretty concerned look, recommended that we visit a child psychologist. The pediatrician gave Mom a referral, but after doing a little research, Mom discovered that the recommended psychologist didn’t specialize in kids with gender identity disorder. She did manage to find a psychologist named Dr. Sheryl Brown who treated transgender adults, and who confirmed Mom’s suspected diagnosis of me. But Dr. Brown didn’t feel comfortable taking me on as a patient, since she had no experience treating someone as young as I was. That freaked my parents out, since it was starting to seem like no one had ever treated a kid my age with GID. My mom’s cousin Debbie, who was a licensed mental health counselor (and would later go on to get a doctorate in counseling transgender youth because of me), finally introduced them to Dr. Marilyn Volker, a therapist who worked with both gender issues and kids. I was three when we went in for the appointment, and I liked Dr. Marilyn right away. She had a very calm and soothing voice like Grandma Jacky’s that made me feel safe.

Spoiler

This is the test the mental health counselor gave Jazz to determine whether or not he was trans:

Dr. Marilyn pulled out two stuffed dolls that looked like fake Cabbage Patch Kids you’d find on the counterfeit toy market, with an important difference—they were anatomically correct. She asked what I had between my legs, and I pointed to the penis. She then asked what I wanted, and I pointed to the vagina. That was the first day I ever heard the word “transgender.” I remember feeling this overwhelming sense of relief that there was finally a word that described me—a girl who had accidentally been born into a boy’s body.

 

[NerdShamer]

Well, mistake #1 was letting him bathe with his sister.

 

[he who has thus come/gone]

Sure, I can do it. Coincidentally, I was also the one who read through the Schofield book.

The book starts with this picture of baby Jazz:
View attachment 1815376

Chapter one is called "When is the good fairy going to come with her magic wand"? and talks about Jazz's origin story.

I think you've already been over this passage about the necklace test and the dress onesie, but I'll repost it anyways:




Jazz claims that as a toddler, he had vagina envy and wanted to dress like his sister:


He claims to have liked dresses because they were comfortable but then says he loved walking around in heels since he was in diapers. Heels aren't comfortable even when they fit properly and I doubt they make them in baby size.


The tale of the good fairy:


So Jazz was gender nonconforming and had an unhealthy obsession with genitals. The Bloshinskis decided to go doctor shopping to get their three year old a gender identity disorder diagnosis:

Anyone who claims to have distinct memories from when they were two or three is a fucking liar. I think I have a single preschool memory. There's no way in fucking hell this kid remembers their dream from when they were two, their emotions as a toddler, or anything else like that. How can people read this shit and think it's legitimate?

 

[Fanatical Pragmatist]

Well, mistake #1 was letting him bathe with his sister.

Yeah I'm going to go out on a limb and say this probably wasn't the cause.
I know there are plenty of people who bathed with their same-age siblings or even close family friends as toddlers and didn't turn out trans.

Even then, realizing that boys and girls have different parts doesn't make one want to trans out.

 

[keyboredsm4shthe2nd]

I mean... he's kinda right, considering his entire life has been the medical profession (both surgical and psychiatric) failing and using him as opposed to looking out for his actual best interests. Considering his past-life regression where he was (lol) a gay man whose family wouldn't accept him and his weird poetry about being a boy in a wig, I'd say he knows there's something profoundly wrong with his life even if he doesn't have the frame of reference to properly verbalize it.

He really is David Reimer Part 2 but the troon community and his narc mother just jam their fingers in their ears so hard they're bleeding.

Well, mistake #1 was letting him bathe with his sister.

Gotta disagree with you. It's pretty clear Jeanette had this hatched for years. Bathing with your sister when you're like 4 doesn't make you a tranny any more than bathing with your brother when you're 4 turns you gay.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

Juicy bits from the book, part 2:
Preschool life and gender tantrums. Spoilered for length.

Spoiler

At three and four years old he insisted on wearing feminine clothes and being called feminine names, throwing tantrums if he was treated like a boy:

At home, everything was fine. I was still allowed to wear dresses around the house, and at different times I’d insist that my family call me Tiffany, Courtney, or best of all, Sparkles. Sadly, none of those names stuck, but since Jaron is so gender neutral, I’d always revert to it without being too upset that no one took my suggestions seriously. The only problem with things going so well at home was just that—they were only going well at home. By the time I turned four, I began to act out, and getting me dressed to go to preschool was turning into a daily war, with me getting up early to put on one of Ari’s old dresses and Mom having to pull it off me while I screamed and cried. Mom cried, too, on the phone to Grandma Jacky. Sometimes the fights and my tantrums were so bad that I ended up not even leaving the house. Something had to give.

Here's a picture from preschool:


He was telling preschoolers he was transgender:

I had been in preschool since I was two and a half and had sometimes been teased for dumb things like using pink and purple crayons when we colored, or playing with grocery carts and dolls instead of trucks and blocks. It was nothing too mean, though. I don’t think children usually have a problem with what another kid plays with unless someone else has told them it’s wrong or different.

Even though I wasn’t allowed to dress the way I wanted at preschool, I had no problem telling the other kids what I’d learned about myself at Dr. Marilyn’s office. I was too young to pronounce “transgender” correctly, so I called myself “twansdender.” Samantha and some of the other kids asked, “What does that mean?” and I said I had a girl’s brain and a boy’s body. I don’t think they could really wrap their little heads around it, because usually the reaction was something like “Okay, let’s play with the Barbies!”

He was obsessed with the color pink and threw a tantrum over getting a blue toothbrush:

Like them, I was only looking to find my place in the world. And in the world of girls, that meant pink. Neon pink, pale pink, dark pink, dusty pink…I was obsessed with any object in that color spectrum, regardless of its practical use. Ari had a hot-pink Barbie music cassette that I had confiscated and carried with me everywhere for a while. My poor family had to hear the song “Think Pink” by Barbie’s band Beyond Pink over and over for ages. I loved pink so much that I had an intense reaction to a freaking toothbrush I got for Hanukkah when I was four. Cousin Debbie gave Ari a pink toothbrush in the shape of the Little Mermaid and gave me a blue one shaped like the Cat in the Hat. I was furious, not just because I hadn’t gotten the pink one, but because mermaids were my thing. I’d been obsessed with them my entire life, and I continue to be obsessed with them even today. Someone once told my mom that it’s really common for transgender kids to be into mermaids, because they don’t have genitals. I guess the idea is that for trans children, having no genitals is better than having the wrong genitals. I can see the logic in that theory, but at that age all I was aware of was that mermaids were the most beautiful creatures imaginable.

Anyway, I wasn’t a violent kid, but when I got that dumb blue toothbrush I hurled it across the room and ran behind the couch, sobbing my eyes out. Grandma Jacky was visiting at the time and tried to comfort me, but she was shocked at just how extreme my reaction was, since she’d never seen firsthand one of my dressing-for-school fits.

Anyone who claims to have distinct memories from when they were two or three is a fucking liar. I think I have a single preschool memory. There's no way in fucking hell this kid remembers their dream from when they were two, their emotions as a toddler, or anything else like that. How can people read this shit and think it's legitimate?

It does happen. I have some memories from when I was two or three, but admittedly they're pretty vague now.

 

[he who has thus come/gone]

It does happen. I have some memories from when I was two or three, but admittedly they're pretty vague now.

There's a difference between remembering a few vague pastiches over multiple years, and remembering all this shit. This sounds like stuff his mother whispered into his ear Grima Wormtongue-style over the years that he's reconstructed into "memories."

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

Juicy bits from the book, part 3:
Preschool life, explaining transgenderism to Jazz's siblings and Jeanette asking the internet for advice on how to trans a kid. Spoilered for length.

Spoiler

Daddy Bloshinsky didn't want to jump to conclusions about Jazz being trans but Jeanette immediately started asking the internet for advice on how to transition a toddler. I wonder if we can find those old posts of hers?

Based on everything my dad witnessed, me being a girl made sense to him. But he was looking at my situation through a protective lens—he was worried about how the outside world was going to react to me. Not that my mom wasn’t, but Dad is more cautious by nature, and he didn’t want to rush into anything. It didn’t really cause any tension in their marriage or anything, but Mom was being much more active about the situation than Dad, reaching out to online support groups for advice on the best way to handle my transition, and she’d always share any information or research with him. Those groups didn’t always give her a whole lot of relief in the beginning. When she first signed into a chat forum, she asked if anyone had ever had any experience transitioning a kid before kindergarten, and got the sound of crickets chirping in return. She was desperate for some sort of manual, like a version of What to Expect When You’re Expecting but about raising a transgender child. (Luckily that kind of book does exist now!) Another time, a woman sent Mom a study that said 80 percent of little kids who transitioned were just gay and would transition back once they were older because they grew out of it. The study was disproven as BS, though, since none of the participants had actually ever been diagnosed with GID. (The clinic that funded that study also practiced conversion therapy to try to forcefully change a kid’s natural inclinations to play with the toys they wanted to, but thankfully they recently ended the practice. Several city, state, and federal governments are now making these kinds of “therapy” illegal.) Mom wasn’t buying it anyway, even before the study was debunked. She saw how much happier I had become after meeting with Dr. Marilyn and getting permission to wear the clothes that suited me.

This is how the parents explained to the other kids that Jazz was trans:

The first step was to tell my siblings. Dad and Mom sat my brothers and sister down to explain to them that as a family they were all going to start recognizing me for what I was—a girl. The twins, who were seven by then, took it with their usual “sure, cool” attitude, I think because they were so young. It wasn’t like they were losing anything, since they’d never really thought of me as a little brother to begin with due to my lack of interest in boy stuff. Ari took it a little harder. She really liked being the only daughter. She was nine at the time and wasn’t too happy to suddenly have to share the family princess status. But after my dad explained to her that many transgender kids have really difficult lives and that more than 50 percent try to kill themselves at some point because they aren’t loved and accepted, she started to cry and promised him she’d be the best big sister ever. She has been ever since, even when I’d get super annoying and copy her every move. If she got a purple hair bow, I had to have a purple hair bow, too. It got so bad that Mom would sometimes buy us matching outfits so I wouldn’t be tempted to sneak things from Ari’s closet. (It didn’t work.) I think Ari was flattered, but I’m sure it also bugged her at times. If it did, she never let on. She’s just that great.

His school was pretty strict about gender roles. That's not surprising, I guess. If any of this stuff is true, so far it sounds like his main issue was that he was feminine and gender roles for boys are strictly enforced by society.

Mom was friendly with my preschool teacher, and even though I didn’t know it, they had been in constant contact. Mom let her know what I was going through, and while I still hadn’t started socially transitioning by changing my pronoun and wearing dresses outside the house, the two of them were able to convince the school’s director to ease up on the dress code for me. Eventually, I was allowed to wear shirts that had pictures of things like butterflies and Disney princesses. My absolute favorite was purple, with a big picture of Ariel from The Little Mermaid on it. The administration drew the line at these tops, though. When kids asked questions about why I could wear girly shirts, I told them it was because I was a girl. If they kept asking about it, the teacher would tell them I was allowed to be whatever I wanted to be. In the end nobody else besides me wanted to dress differently, so it didn’t upset the balance too much. Because I went to a Jewish preschool, every Friday we celebrated Shabbat. Each week, in rotation, a different boy and girl would be chosen to dress as the Ema and Abba (mother and father), sit in special chairs, and lead the class in singing a blessing over some grape juice and bread. Whenever it was my turn I couldn’t stand having to be Abba because he had to wear a tie—the ultimate representation of male clothing. Both Ema and Abba wore a basic yellow smock, but Ema got to wear a necklace. It was the two objects wrapped around their necks that made all the difference—symbolic chains that advertised their gender. Even though they’d eased up on the dress code, I had to be the Abba whenever it was my turn, and I hated every second of it. The preschool’s dress code also included what you could and couldn’t do with your hair. I still had to keep mine much shorter than I wanted. I tried to work around that by clipping brightly colored kids’ hair extensions on, but the school’s director quickly banned them for all kids, I suspected as a way of not specifically calling me out—mainly because I was the only one who got in trouble for continuing to try to sneak them into my hair. I’d get scolded, but the other girls who did the same thing wouldn’t.

Other parents at Jazz's preschool started suspecting that Jeanette was grooming her kid to be trans:

Mom started hearing rumors that some of the other parents were saying they didn’t think what she was allowing me to do was right. Even worse, some were saying she had actually wanted a little girl instead of a boy. They were gossiping that she was forcing me to believe I was a girl, when in reality it was the complete opposite— I had been the one trying to convince her

The first time Jazz was called a girl by his mother:

The memory of Mom calling me a girl for the first time is so clear in my mind. She was sitting in her bedroom, and I walked up to her and asked if she would put my short hair into pigtails. She bunched up what little she could on both sides of my head, so that I looked like Pippi Longstocking if someone had attacked her braids with a pair of scissors. We stared into the mirror together, and Mom told me I was a very pretty little girl. She finally understood! “I love you,” I said, looking up at her. “And I love my hair!” I started dancing all around the room, thrilled out of my mind. But suddenly I stopped in my tracks, full of concern. Griffen and Sander had recently started teaching me how to kick a soccer ball around the backyard, and I was really having fun with that. I looked up at Mom again and asked, “Can girls still play sports?” “Girls can do anything they want,” she answered.

 

[Monolith]

Daddy Bloshinsky didn't want to jump to conclusions about Jazz being trans but Jeanette immediately started asking the internet for advice on how to transition a toddler. I wonder if we can find those old posts of hers?


This is how the parents explained to the other kids that Jazz was trans:


His school was pretty strict about gender roles. That's not surprising, I guess. If any of this stuff is true, so far it sounds like his main issue was that he was feminine and gender roles for boys are strictly enforced by society.


Other parents at Jazz's preschool started suspecting that Jeanette was grooming her kid to be trans:


The first time Jazz was called a girl by his mother:

I really hope you pirated this book instead of paying.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

Juicy bits from the book, part 4: Jazz has a coming out party, is enrolled to kindergarten as a girl, constantly shoves his hand down his pants during class and develops an obsession with drawing naked women.

Spoiler

Jazz's coming out party when he was five years old:

Still, they waited about six more months, until my fifth birthday, to have my coming-out party. I didn’t want to wait that long, but Dad continued to be very, very cautious, wanting to move slowly and not rush anything. It worked out well, though—since we were going to have a party anyway, it got to be an extraspecial occasion, and my parents didn’t hold back on anything. They rented a bounce house with a water slide and a snow cone machine, which Sander and Griffen immediately announced they were going to run. (My parents found out later they were charging everyone $5 per treat and pocketing all the cash!) On that day, I was finally allowed to wear whatever I wanted in front of my friends and their families because Mom had invited my entire preschool class. By that point I’d collected a pretty huge girly wardrobe by sneaking Ari’s old clothes out of her bedroom, and since it was a pool party I narrowed down my choices to two different brightly colored one-piece bathing suits that no longer fit my sister. One had rainbow stripes with an almost metallic, sparkly sheen all over it, and the other one was tie-dyed. Of course, I chose the sparkly option! I felt like it was the one that best represented me. Not that I was using words like “represent” back then. It was more like I grabbed it and yelled, “MINE! MINE! MINE!” It was the happiest day of the first five years of my life. There was no nervousness or fear about how people might react. I couldn’t stop smiling because everyone would finally see my real, authentic self in such a beautiful bathing suit. My parents were allowing me to be the girl I knew I was. None of the kids from school reacted at all. I think by that point they were just used to me. I remember seeing a couple of moms giving me funny looks, but I didn’t care at all. Nothing was going to bring me down that day. Except for the moment when I broke a piñata and the other kids rushed in and took all the candy before I could get any—that part sucked!

It seemingly went well, although I imagine the cock bulge he probably would have had wearing his sister's swimsuit would have weirded people out. And wouldn't it be uncomfortable to have his twig and berries squished like that? Female swimsuits are pretty tight.

From a young age, he went to the women's restroom. As a kid, he was accompanied by his sister:

At first I was only allowed to wear dresses outside the house on the weekends, and Ari would take me to the girls’ bathroom with her whenever I needed to go.

When Jazz was still in preschool, Jeanette harvested attention at the Philadelphia trans-health conference by claiming to be the mother of a transgender kid:

I didn’t know it at the time, but my mom had been doing a lot of behind-the-scenes work to learn as much as she could about being transgender. This was the first year she attended the Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference (it’s exactly what it sounds like), and it ended up becoming a huge part of our lives later on. During my mom’s first trip, she attended a workshop and asked a ton of questions about raising a transgender kid. No one there had any experience with it, so they ended up adding her to the panel and asking her a ton of questions!

The story of the first time Jazz got media attention:

Mom knew that the principal at our local school, Ms. Reynolds, was super conservative, but she’d seemed nice every time Mom had met her over the previous six years, since my brothers and sister already went there. I’d even met Ms. Reynolds in the lobby of the school one day when we were there to pick up my siblings. My hair was almost to the bottom of my ears by then, but I was wearing overalls, so I looked pretty boyish. Ms. Reynolds had smiled down at me and asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. “Everything!” I answered. To head off any issues from the beginning, Mom tried to set up a meeting with Ms. Reynolds to explain my situation before kindergarten started. After promising to contact the school board and get back to Mom, Ms. Reynolds ignored all her follow-up calls. It became so obvious that she was blowing off my parents, and they were at a loss about what to do. That’s when they had the very smart idea that maybe a little media attention might speed up the process. If the administration wasn’t going to listen to us, my parents decided to take a risk and see if they’d listen to a journalist who could address the issue in a larger way. They contacted the local paper and worked out an agreement where a reporter could do a story about the problem they were having getting me enrolled as a girl, as long as the paper didn’t name the school, used fake names for all of us, and didn’t show our faces. The plan worked! The article got a lot of attention, and a week after it came out Mom got a call from Ms. Reynolds, who invited her in for a meeting, all the while saying she’d never gotten any of the other messages.

The Bloshinskis insisted that Jazz be enrolled to kindergarten as a female, expressing disgust at the principal's suggestion of enrolling him as gender neutral:

Mom went in there prepared. She brought my dad, as well as another lawyer, who specialized in LGBT civil rights, and Dr. Marilyn. Ms. Reynolds listened to what they all had to say. She didn’t exactly get it. At first, her concession was that I could enter school as “gender neutral” and be an “it.” My mom compared the idea to them thinking of me as being more like Elmo from Sesame Street than an actual person. My parents were not having any of that, so they continued to push back. The meeting dragged on for several hours, and eventually they wore Ms. Reynolds down and she agreed to let me enter kindergarten as female. I was still going by Jaron at the time—I kept that name all through elementary school, except for when media coverage started happening later on—so we didn’t have to file any official name change paperwork.

The Bloshinskis insisted that Jazz be allowed to pee with the girls, even though the school had gender neutral restrooms:

The main thing that Ms. Reynolds wouldn’t budge on, no matter what, was the bathroom. I would not be allowed to use the girls’ room under any condition. I had two options. First, I could use a unisex bathroom in the classroom, where everyone could hear me pee. Plus there was no lock on it, so anyone could walk right in on me, which happened a lot until I decided to stop using it. My other option was the bathroom in the nurse’s office, which was used for sick kids to puke in more than anything else. Not to mention that I usually had to wade through several bleeding and crying children to get to it.

Jazz was made to wear skorts, which resulted in him picking at his penis in the middle of class. He claims being so frequently told not to put his hand down his pants caused him to develop an obsession with drawing naked people:

Like preschool, the elementary school had a dress code, and Ms. Reynolds insisted that I wear either pants or shorts. My parents fought back some more and were able to get her to compromise with skorts—skirts with shorts underneath them. With a skort, if you have a boy body, everything down there stays tucked away. The problem is that skorts aren’t made for boy bodies, which presented a big issue that I’ll explain in a sec.

Remember those skorts I mentioned? I kept getting in trouble because I was always picking at myself down there, trying to arrange my penis into a comfortable position. Which was basically impossible. My teacher was very sweet and accommodating of my situation, but she’d still have to constantly rush over to my chair and lean down to whisper at me to remove my hand from my pants. My teacher understood why I kept doing it and didn’t want to send me to the principal’s office, but she also didn’t want to keep calling me out in a way that would draw attention from the other students. She talked to my mom, and together they came up with the code phrase “Jaron, stop bothering yourself” to get me to remove my hands from my skort. With the number of times she had to tell me, it’s not surprising that I soon became obsessed with drawing explicit body parts in school.

 

[heathcliff]

I really hope you pirated this book instead of paying.

You can read the book here.
(Both books and the dissertation were free downloads.)

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

Juicy bits from the book, part 5: Little Jazz keeps drawing realistic naked women who supposedly look like his mother. (Is that Jeanette bragging about her breast size?) Halfway through Kindergarten, he starts getting involved with the trans community and the media. He also starts playing soccer but problems arise because boys aren't allowed on girl teams.

Spoiler

This ended up being a good thing, because my artistic side was really firing up for the first time. I’d always been into drawing, but I suddenly found myself constantly sketching during class. And what I was sketching was fairly realistic portraits of vaginas, breasts, and butts. All the boobs were big because my mom’s were, and since those were the only ones I’d ever seen naked, they were all I really knew. Anyway, I was drawing what was on my mind, what I wished I had.

My teacher sent me to Ms. Reynolds’s office one day when she caught me with one of my “nude pics.” Ms. Reynolds had no idea what to do about it except call my mom, who grew scared that the principal was going to use this seemingly deviant behavior as an excuse to tell her that allowing me to transition was wrong. Ms. Reynolds didn’t go quite that far, but Mom definitely felt like she was the one in trouble. “These kinds of drawings are utterly unacceptable and inappropriate,” Ms. Reynolds told Mom, before warning her that she’d better figure out a way to make me quit. Mom was able to convince me to stop sketching at school, and ultimately I never got into any real trouble.

Jazz is taken to the trans-health conference:

That spring, Mom took me with her to the Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference, which she’d gone to the year before, and I guess technically you could say that was the first time I ever spoke on a panel. The truth is that I was running around with my new friend I’d met there: Stephanie, a trans girl who had been adopted from China. I was sort of aware that Mom was talking at the front of the big conference room, and I heard my name mentioned so I ran up to her, totally unfazed by the roomful of people staring. “Oh, here she is! Do you want to say hi to everyone?” Mom asked. “Hi,” I said. “Do you want to tell everyone how you feel about being a girl?” “I’m happy. I love who I am! Can I go play with Stephanie now?”

The media takes notice of Jazz. Greg is not thrilled, but Jeanette jumps on the opportunity:

The local newspaper story about me that my parents had used to land a meeting with Ms. Reynolds ended up getting picked up by the Village Voice in New York, where a representative from the TV newsmagazine show 20/20 saw it. She reached out to my parents to try to convince our family to appear on the show, and Mom and Dad immediately said no. You’ve got to hand it to the people in charge of the show—they didn’t give up and worked on my parents for ten full months. Mom and Dad’s worries were 100 percent legit. They wanted to protect me, because some larger news outlets like CNN and the Miami Herald had also picked up the article, and conservative talk show hosts like Glenn Beck were making mean comments about our family on the air. Mr. Beck said that letting me go to school as a girl could be considered “borderline child abuse,” when in reality it was the exact opposite. For some weird reason he also decided that I must be a kid who eats paste..

Dad was against doing the show for a long time, but Mom started to get a gut feeling that as long as our privacy was protected, my story might help other kids. I was happy and adjusting to my new life so well that she thought we might inspire other families who were going through a similar situation. She’d spent so much time on the support message boards that she knew there wasn’t a lot of information for parents out there, and there was definitely no visibility of kids like me. She would have done anything to have had a resource to turn to when I first started to exhibit signs of being transgender. That’s the whole reason why about halfway through kindergarten, Mom and Dad founded a public charity called TransKids Purple Rainbow Foundation.

When Mom and Dad finally sat me down to ask what I thought about doing the television show and explained how it could help other transgender children, I immediately said yes. I wish I could say that my intentions at the time were all about being an advocate, but I was in kindergarten. I wanted to be on TV!

He thinks it's normal for girls to be into soccer but abnormal for boys to be into dolls. This family has a really schizophrenic view of gender roles.

Ever since I could walk, Griffen and Sander liked playing sports with me, and I loved playing with them. Playing ball didn’t take time away from my mermaid dolls. Like it was for millions of girls, being into sports was just another part of my personality.

Jazz isn't allowed to play soccer with the girls:

Nothing about the ban by the state soccer association made any sense to me. I was a girl, and I wanted to play on a soccer team with girls. What was so difficult to understand about that? I knew it was because of bigotry, fear, and ignorance, but it just didn’t compute. The state soccer association believed that because I had been born in a boy’s body I had an unfair advantage, which was ridiculous. I was 100 percent a girl, not to mention the smallest one on the team. The reason I was good at sports was because I worked hard and practiced.

Every paragraph of this thing is a new layer of horrifying.

 

[NoReturn]

Juicy bits from the book, part 5: Little Jazz keeps drawing realistic naked women who supposedly look like his mother. Halfway through Kindergarten, he starts getting involved with the trans community and the media. He also starts playing soccer but problems arise because boys aren't allowed on girl teams.

Spoiler

Jazz is taken to the trans-health conference:


The media takes notice of Jazz. Greg is not thrilled, but Jeanette jumps on the opportunity:



View attachment 1815782

Jazz isn't allowed to play soccer with the girls:

Every paragraph of this thing is a new layer of horrifying.

I applaud you for wading through this shit. The whole thing reads like the mom wrote it.