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

[Hongourable Madisha]

I'm noticing how many times Jazz brushes off all the body parts/nakedness/deviant behavior as "totally normal". Kids flashing their genitals is "totally normal". Seeing mom's boobs is "totally normal". Drawing boobs and vaginas in elementary is "totally normal".

Someone touched this kid.

It especially worries me when he's writing books for children (though IIRC "I Am Jazz" doesn't go into that so much) and advocating for young trans people. Reminds me of Aimee Challenor who went into politics and whose nonce dad groomed him to campaign against child safeguarding and shut down any criticism (they made Terfblocker together). He's into some weird shit but AFAIK he's not actually molested anyone himself, he's a victim of his dad's grooming whether the guy raped him or not. IMO the real scandal was that two political parties enabled his anti-child-protection agenda and put him front and centre of their campaigns, and at no point did anyone do any checks and balances and say "hang on a minute, this guy needs help, privacy and a lot of therapy while his dad goes to prison". For his own good, as well as for the good of the children his policies could have damaged.
It's the same with Jazz. Whether he's been molested or not, he's been groomed to have no boundaries around sex and genitals, and he's now spreading the same messages that harmed him. This all had to go through so many people - the schools, the paediatricians, everyone involved in publishing his books and making the TV shows and writing the news reports about him, and it seems not one of them raised the alarm. Makes me wonder what sort of people they are: groomers themselves, or useful idiots for groomers.
It reminds me of people who are raised in destructive cults and then go out proselytising to try to recruit new members, even knowing the harm it did them. Partly it's not their fault, their minds are not their own, but other people in their lives should be intervening and helping them when they start doing it.

 

[Free the Pedos]

Speaking of which, he already experienced it when he realized that he can't keep up with the boys on the soccer field.

Jazz never played soccer with boys. Correct me if I'm wrong.

 

[Enoby Way]

Why do you always have to act like a prick?

That moment when @heathcliff's username checks out.

I'm noticing how many times Jazz brushes off all the body parts/nakedness/deviant behavior as "totally normal". Kids flashing their genitals is "totally normal". Seeing mom's boobs is "totally normal". Drawing boobs and vaginas in elementary is "totally normal".

Someone touched this kid.

I agree, if all these anecdotes are true, someone fucking touched this kid, or worse. Just... holy fucking Christ on a bike. These red flags could not be redder or flaggier.

Edit: I feel like if we were to compile a list of warning signs of child molestation and compare them with quotes from this book/the show we would tick almost every box.

It leaves only two possibilities:

If most or all of the incidents were made up, then Jeanette ghostwrote the entire thing, not realising that in doing so she made trans kids look more like potential sexual abuse victims looking to become trans as a coping mechanism, and thus promoting misinformation to the general public, wich may lead to more abused kids going under the radar and being miscategorised as trans, rather than being taken to the therapy they need.

2. If most or all of the incidents are true, this means Jeanette and cousin Debbie, a qualified counsellor and a qualified therapist respectively, failed to recognise the MOUNTAINS of evidence that a child in their own family had been sexually abused and instead each exploited it for their own gain: Debbie for her thesis topic and Jeanette for fame.

Up to you guys as to what is more horrifying.

 

[NerdShamer]

Jazz never played soccer with boys. Correct me if I'm wrong.

He did, according to the book. But in typical tranny fashion, it wasn't his fault that they weren't that big on teamwork.

 

[Muttnik]

Jazz was butthurt that the other male soccer players weren't interested in mermaids. As if that is the only thing they were allowed to talk about in order to achieve camaraderie. Jazz could have tried accommodating and branched out in interests instead of autistically fixating on a sanitized girly version of an actual fish-monster, but no. The boys were "rowdy and rude" and completely outpaced him. So he threw another tantrum and got his way.

And now he physically can't play soccer at all, or ever again.

 

[beautiful person]

It's beyond fucked up that Jeanette used suicide threats of Jazz against Ari (and probably the other siblings), when they were just children no less. I know Jazz is the most fucked up child of this family, but the other kids probably have some pretty severe trauma if that's
how Jeanette felt it was appropriate to treat them. Appropriate enough to brag about in her I Mean Jazz's book, anyway.

It was the dad suicide-baiting 9-year-old Ari. Jeanette has probably also done it, but daddy Scott-Greg was also actively part of this weird narc-family mental torment.

And don't forget being used as a surrogate womb later for when Jazz wants children!

I forgot about this. I kinda doubt Jazz will ever be in a relationship serious enough to warrant having a kid, but I could also see Jean/Jazz thinking it's fine to put Ari through all that so Jazz can be a single 'mother'. I really hope Ari gets out before it comes up.

 

[Sinner's Sandwich]

It was the dad suicide-baiting 9-year-old Ari.

I thought Greg was just a spineless cuck but he too is an asshole.

 

[NoReturn]

Makes you wonder why Ari actually puts up with this.

I think Ari knows what the political landscape is like. If she steps out of line their can get their entire trans community on her ass just by calling her a TERF.

 

[pussy raptor]

The bits from the book just drive it home for me that this poor kid must've been molested by someone. So much of his kindergarten age behaviour raises red flags.

The fact that his mother is a psycho doesn't help, it's utterly transparent that she is aware of what happened to her son and instead of sending him to therapy like any sane person would she instead decided to dress him as a girl.

Fucking depressing.

 

[NerdShamer]

I think Ari knows what the political landscape is like. If she steps out of line their can get their entire trans community on her ass just by calling her a TERF.

She could always fly the coop, just don't give a reason that could get her blacklisted for when she leaves.

 

[One Man Bland]

It's the same with Jazz. Whether he's been molested or not, he's been groomed to have no boundaries around sex and genitals, and he's now spreading the same messages that harmed him. This all had to go through so many people - the schools, the paediatricians, everyone involved in publishing his books and making the TV shows and writing the news reports about him, and it seems not one of them raised the alarm. Makes me wonder what sort of people they are: groomers themselves, or useful idiots for groomers.
It reminds me of people who are raised in destructive cults and then go out proselytising to try to recruit new members, even knowing the harm it did them. Partly it's not their fault, their minds are not their own, but other people in their lives should be intervening and helping them when they start doing it.

I and others said this once before, but I think it bare repeating: a lot of the discussion surrounding transgemderism, particularly the medical side of it, is eerily similar to how lobotomies were talked about in their hay-day.

You got it all: snake oil doctors & surgeons pedaling their procedures as miracle cures for money and fame, popularity growing mostly due to controlling parents wanting to push it on their kids, the wider medical community staying mostly silent to save face despite knowing or at least suspecting the procedure’s a bad idea, guilt-tripping the uncertain parents by telling them the alternatives are much worse so they’d actually be doing the right thing going through with it, sweeping all the bad results under a log or very few doing follow-ups to see the how the patients are doing later down the line, probably won’t see the full extent of the damage for another couple decades, etc.

Only thing missing is one high profile disaster case that causes the whole house of cards to come tumbling down.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

That moment when @heathcliff's username checks out.



I agree, if all these anecdotes are true, someone fucking touched this kid, or worse. Just... holy fucking Christ on a bike. These red flags could not be redder or flaggier.

Edit: I feel like if we were to compile a list of warning signs of child molestation and compare them with quotes from this book/the show we would tick almost every box.

It leaves only two possibilities:

If most or all of the incidents were made up, then Jeanette ghostwrote the entire thing, not realising that in doing so she made trans kids look more like potential sexual abuse victims looking to become trans as a coping mechanism, and thus promoting misinformation to the general public, wich may lead to more abused kids going under the radar and being miscategorised as trans, rather than being taken to the therapy they need.

2. If most or all of the incidents are true, this means Jeanette and cousin Debbie, a qualified counsellor and a qualified therapist respectively, failed to recognise the MOUNTAINS of evidence that a child in their own family had been sexually abused and instead each exploited it for their own gain: Debbie for her thesis topic and Jeanette for fame.

Up to you guys as to what is more horrifying.

If the incidents are true, I'm pretty sure Jeanette is the molester. After all, Jazz admitted to seeing her naked and supposedly kept drawing her naked body.

Juicy bits of the book, part 7: Jazz keeps peeing himself at school.

Spoiler

Jazz meets a tranny who was disfigured by getting back alley injections of caulking cement:

The first really big panel I spoke on was at something called TransCon, an all-day conference in Miami devoted to transgender issues. There were a lot of familiar faces up on the stage with me—they were the same people I’d spoken with at the colleges, along with a woman I’d never met before named Rajee. I felt shy but I couldn’t stop staring at her face—it was obvious that something had happened to it.

I soon learned that Rajee hadn’t come out as transgender until she was in her twenties, after going through male puberty. Because she couldn’t afford any sort of gender reassignment surgery, she went to a transgender woman in her neighborhood who promised she could give Rajee inexpensive fillers to help round out her face and hips, giving her a more womanly look. What Rajee didn’t know was that not only was this woman unlicensed to do any sort of medical procedures, but she injected Rajee’s body full of caulking cement, leaving her permanently disfigured. Rajee even woke up one morning with green pus oozing from her face. The “doctor” who did this to her ended up in jail and was charged with manslaughter after another one of her patients died. It was yet another reminder of how lucky I was to have the family I do. I knew that because of their support I’d never have to go through what Rajee experienced. I gave her a huge hug after the panel. She told me how special and brave she thought I was, when in fact she was the brave one to have gone through what she did and still be so positive and willing to share her story. She’s an inspiring role model.

Jazz pees his pants at school:

I was lucky to have a friend like Rebecca, who was especially nice to me. We continued having sleepovers and grew even closer in second grade. We were so crazy about each other that we decided we were going to get married. This didn’t bother our parents. Rebecca’s mom told us, “I don’t care if she marries a boy or a girl as long as the person is Jewish!” For Valentine’s Day that year, Rebecca and I even bought each other chocolates and teddy bears. We constantly cracked each other up. We’d make crazy faces and repeat the same dumb jokes that we thought were hilarious, but there was one big problem with all that laughing. Since I wasn’t allowed to use the regular bathrooms at school, I was holding it in a lot when I had to go. And when Rebecca made me laugh too hard, I’d pee my pants. I started to come home with wet clothes, and sometimes the accident would be bad enough that the school had to call my mom to bring me a whole new outfit. Instead of being embarrassed when kids would laugh at me, I was more like, Screw it. It wasn’t my fault I was in that situation! I blamed the school for leaving me with such terrible choices: the in-classroom bathroom with absolutely no privacy, the long, humiliating trek to the nurse’s bathroom, or having accidents. Mom felt really bad for me. She understood why it kept happening and made a point of reminding Ms. Reynolds whenever she dropped off clean clothes.

One day, I had on a pair of thin shorts and underwear when I peed myself. The undies managed to catch most of the mess, so I slunk to the nurse’s bathroom, undressed, wadded them up in a bunch of toilet paper, and buried them in the trash can. It wasn’t until I walked back out into the hallway that I glanced down and realized that without underwear to tuck it away, the outline of my penis was now visible through the fabric. I shuffled down the hallway hunched over a little, trying to maneuver my body in a way that would make my penis move farther back between my legs. That didn’t work, so I folded my hands, very ladylike, and kept them in front of me. I spent the time until my shorts finally dried walking around with either a book or a piece of paper held below my waist, blocking the view. I tried to laugh it off in my head to keep away the creeping sense of shame I felt, but even as self-confident as I was, it didn’t really work.

 

[Peaches Demure]

If the incidents are true, I'm pretty sure Jeanette is the molester. After all, Jazz admitted to seeing her naked and supposedly kept drawing her naked body.

Juicy bits of the book, part 7: Jazz keeps peeing himself at school.

I bet Jazz smelling like piss didn't exactly help promote acceptance or understanding at the school. Kids are relentless and unforgiving about such things, and there's a reason "you pissed your pants!" is a staple school yard insult everywhere.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

I bet Jazz smelling like piss didn't exactly help promote acceptance or understanding at the school. Kids are relentless and unforgiving about such things, and there's a reason "you pissed your pants!" is a staple school yard insult everywhere.

The following paragraphs are actually about kids being mean to him. The book blames it on him being bratty and trans, though, not on smelling like piss. Despite this, he did have some friends.

Spoiler

I’m the first to admit it—when I hit third grade, I started getting a little full of myself. I was kicking butt in travel soccer but had no clue about the struggle my parents were going through to secure a legitimate place for me on the team. I was getting straight As and made the honor roll, and still got picked first in gym class all the time. I was beating Rebecca in sports, and even though she was a great student, she wasn’t doing as well as me academically, and I found myself feeling competitive with her. One day she called me out on it. She told me I was selfish and bratty, and I told her she was rude, and after that our engagement was off. We weren’t going to get married after all

toward the end of the year, the trio of girls I ate lunch with started acting ruder and ruder to me, and then on the very last day of school I heard a rumor that they no longer wanted to sit with “the transgender girl.” I finally asked Casey what the deal with them was. “Oh, they hate you,” she said. “What?!” “Yeah, they think you’re selfish and don’t like you at all.”

We caught each other up on what we’d done over the summer break before going to our separate classes. When I got back to mine, I saw a girl named Olivia, who I’d talked to a few times the year before, walk into the room. I was still wrapped up in the excitement of the first day and my joy at how happy Casey was to see me, so I reached out and gave Olivia a hug as she walked by. “It’s so good to see you!” I said. “Ew,” she said, and quickly pulled her backpack off her shoulders and started dramatically wiping her entire body off with it. “You got your cooties all over me!”

At 11 years old, Jazz got on puberty blockers. Since he was still too young to get on HRT, he started wearing his sister's old bras to make himself look bustier. He got his first boyfriend and first kiss in fifth grade.

Spoiler

Stealing his sister's bras:

My doctor thought it was still too early for me to go on estrogen and begin growing boobs myself, so I started to wear Ari’s hand-me-down bras to school. For over a year I’d been keeping them in a drawer marked SOMETHING FOR THE FUTURE. OR NOW. Even though my chest was flat, there was enough padding in the bra to make it look like there was at least something happening there under my shirt. I’d tried a similar tactic the year before, but Mom wouldn’t let me leave the house. One morning I had put on one of Ari’s old bras, wadded up some socks, and stuck them inside the cups. I maneuvered them around until they looked even and walked downstairs to the kitchen as if nothing were different. “What is that?” Mom yelled as she looked up from the table. “Uh-uh, no way. You’re not fooling anyone.” “What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “Jaron, get upstairs and take that off right now. No one is going to believe that you magically sprouted boobs overnight.” “But don’t they look real?” I asked, trying not to get too upset. “Okay, to be fair, you did a good job getting them to look symmetrical, but they’re way too big. And it’s dishonest. We are not a dishonest family.” “Fine,” I grumbled, and marched back up to my room. I wasn’t as angry as I pretended to be. The socks were getting itchy against my skin, and the idea of trying to keep up the scam and make them look exactly the same every day was already starting to seem exhausting.

First boyfriend. There's an entire chapter about this and most of it isn't particularly weird, so I'll just quote the part where Jazz climbs on his ten year old lover and tries to make out:

It was nearing the end of the school year, and I was determined to really make out with him before I started middle school. I knew I had the whole summer to make it happen, but the last day of school presented a perfect opportunity—Griffen and Sander were throwing an end-of-the-year party at our house. There would be tons of teenagers running all over the place, creating the perfect distraction for my parents if I could just get Zack alone somewhere. Once the party was raging, I snuck Zack up to my room and shut the door. We got on the bed and cuddled together for a few minutes before I climbed on top of him. Here goes, I thought. I closed my eyes, leaned down, and kissed him. I opened my mouth, but the second my tongue touched Zack’s lips he pushed my face away. “Ouch, you just bit me!” he said, covering his mouth with his hand. At the exact same moment, my dad walked into the room. His eyes popped out like a cartoon character’s. “What is going on here?” he demanded. I leapt off the bed and insisted we were just hanging out. I could tell that Dad didn’t believe it for a second, and he told us to get downstairs and join the party. When we reached the backyard, Zack wandered over to the food table, still rubbing his lip. Sander happened to be walking by so I grabbed his arm, dragged him into the playroom, and shut the door.

I began to explain what had just happened, but I suddenly started crying. Everything had gone downhill so fast, and I was only just then absorbing the reality of the situation. “Wait, so did you actually bite him?” Sander asked. “No!” I wailed. “Of course not. But what if my tongue is razor sharp and I never knew it?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Sander said. “He probably just freaked out and that was the only thing he could think of to say. Don’t worry about it, and try again later. Think of it this way—you’d have cut up your own mouth years ago if your tongue was that dangerous.” He gave me a hug and got me to stop crying. My brothers always know how to cheer me up. I thanked him and went back out to the party in search of my boyfriend. Zack clearly wasn’t interested in me anymore. He refused all my suggestions that we go somewhere to be alone, and he seemed nervous and distracted. Before too long his mom showed up to drive him home. And that was that. We never spoke again.

 

[he who has thus come/gone]

Okay is it just me or is trying to make out with another fifth grader weird? The more I read, the more it seems like he was molested.

Also maybe Jaron's "boyfriend" didn't want to make out with him because he's a boy and everyone knew? Just a wild guess.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

Okay is it just me or is trying to make out with another fifth grader weird? The more I read, the more it seems like he was molested.

Also maybe Jaron's "boyfriend" didn't want to make out with you because you were a boy and everyone knew? Just a wild guess.

I assume he didn't want to make out because he was ten years old. He still had the mindset of a child and was fine with kissing without tongue.

 

[Muttnik]

I think he was molested. I'm almost positive. This behavior isn't normal. When I was little, everyone had cooties. I didn't want to make out with anyone, or have anything to do with nakedness. I was taught that that stuff's for grownups and I should just focus on being a kid.

 

[he who has thus come/gone]

I assume he didn't want to make out because he was ten years old. He still had the mindset of a child and was fine with kissing without tongue.

Spoiler

undefined

I mean, that quote about kissing during the Hunger Games doesn't sound like he was fine kissing without tongue. Also that boy was a year younger than him? That's even weirder.

 

[💗Freddie Freaker💗]

I mean, that quote about kissing during the Hunger Games doesn't sound like he was fine kissing without tongue. Also that boy was a year younger than him? That's even weirder.

The first boyfriend chapter starts on page 69, if you want to read the whole thing. They kissed twice without tongue before Jazz got dumped for trying to make out.

Twelve years old: Jazz gets depression. Antidepressants aren't working, so Jazz's endocrinologist decides to start giving him estrogen.

Spoiler

almost overnight I developed an overwhelming sense that nothing mattered in life. I stopped talking to all my friends and would find myself banging my head repeatedly against walls, usually in the bathroom at school. Whenever someone walked in on me and asked me why I was doing it, I’d ignore them. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I’d always done so well in school and I loved to learn new things, but all my classes suddenly became boring—to the point where I wanted to scream in frustration.

My parents grew really worried about me and even alerted the school about my state of mind. Depression runs in my mom’s side of the family, and she had experienced postpartum depression after giving birth to me that continued for years, so she recognized the symptoms. She took me to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with both depression and anxiety and prescribed antidepressants.

To make things worse, I started to notice that the girls in my grade were developing breasts. I felt so left behind—I’d been desperate to grow boobs ever since I was a little kid.

I’d managed to come so far as a girl, but suddenly my life seemed to screech to a halt while the rest of the world sped up around me. This situational depression on top of the sadness I was already feeling thanks to some bad genes got to be too much, and Mom took me to both an endocrinologist and Dr. Marilyn for advice. They thought the hormone blockers might be depriving me of something essential that my body needed to balance itself out. As I have said, not every trans girl has access to this hormone therapy. And some choose not to take it. But for those who have decided to take estrogen, there’s no set-in-stone age to start the treatment, although many doctors won’t prescribe it until a patient turns sixteen. I was only twelve, but we made the choice to go for it. One possible side effect of estrogen is that it can cause a person to become moody, so there was a chance that the plan would backfire and make things worse for me. I couldn’t imagine feeling worse than I already did, though, so we decided to move forward. On March 6, 2012, I got my first dose of estrogen.

The plan worked. We also made an adjustment in my antidepressant dosage, and I gradually felt my spirits start to rise after a couple of weeks. Even better, my boobs started to grow! At first they felt like two little bug bites, then quickly turned into what seemed like two seeds under my skin. I’d been obsessively researching the stages of breast development for years and knew all the normal signs. I didn’t mind the soreness I felt because I knew the ache was leading to something huge in my life. (Not huge boobs—finally experiencing a female body!)

He was still obsessively drawing naked women at that age.

 

[NerdShamer]

I think he was molested. I'm almost positive. This behavior isn't normal. When I was little, everyone had cooties. I didn't want to make out with anyone, or have anything to do with nakedness. I was taught that that stuff's for grownups and I should just focus on being a kid.

It's either between being touched, seeing his mom naked, or having this crap put into his head before he got into school.

Besides, elementary is a little bit too young to start dating; although, you can get away with it in middle school.