“I thought womanhood was unsafe before ever experiencing it,” Prisha Mosley told The Post. “I was afraid of a life I hadn’t tasted yet. Now I don’t get to be a woman, fully, and I will never know what it’s like.”
The 25-year-old is transitioning back to being a woman after, she said, she was failed by medical professionals who led her down the path to testosterone injections and a double mastectomy by age 18.
Prisha said she was rushed through gender transition after being convinced — by activists and therapists — that being born in the wrong body was at the root of all her problems.
“I don’t think people should be allowed to take this experimental medicine and do these experimental surgeries until they’re 25, when the brain is fully developed,” Prisha said
Her upbringing, in Maryland and North Carolina, was a difficult one.
So Prisha turned to the internet for solace, and found a transgender activist community online.
“I was dealing with very, very adult things … and therefore I wasn’t able to make any friends my age,” Prisha, who now lives in Michigan, told The Post. “So I started being online a lot and talking to adults online. I got preyed upon.”
At the onset of puberty, at age 12, Prisha said she experienced Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria — a controversial term used to describe a sudden and urgent feeling of being the wrong gender.
“I literally hated every aspect of who I was and what I was and what I looked like,” Prisha said. “I spent some time being a girly girl and being a tomboy and being a smart girl and being this [other] girl, but none of those different hats fit me. And so I was like, I guess I’m just not a girl.”
That sense became overwhelming at age 14, when, Prisha said, she was sexually assaulted by a 20-year-old friend of a friend.
Being violated made her further reject her womanhood.
“I thought that that only happened to girls,” she said. “And I thought that that was just the beginning.”
At 15, she socially transitioned, presenting as male, and came out to her parents, who tried to support her.
At first, the experience was hugely affirming, especially with her online friends cheering her on.
“I was getting tons of attention,” she recalled. “And that felt wonderful … which is why it was so addicting. I was being love-bombed.”
The online activists helped connect Prisha to a transgender specialist. She brought her parents to the appointment, which lasted less than an hour.
For Prisha, meeting with the specialist was affirming: “She looked me in my eyes and she said, ‘You are a boy.’”
For her parents, she added, the experience was terrifying.
“My parents were bullied. [The specialist] said, ‘Do you want a dead daughter or a living son? Do you want to pick up your daughter’s hormones or her body from the morgue?’” Prisha recalled. “They were manipulated.”
She left the appointment with a referral for hormone replacement therapy that she brought to a hospital — an institution that, she now says, should have pumped the brakes given her medical history.
On top of struggling with depression and anxiety, Prisha had suicidal ideation and self-harmed throughout her teen years; she’d even had wounds of her own creation stitched up at the very same hospital.
She was also being treated by a nutritionist there for severe anorexia. On top of all of that, she had been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder.
“I was an impressionable, documented mentally ill child,” Prisha told The Post.
Nonetheless, she claimed, doctors began administering testosterone treatment when she was only 15.
Right after her 18th birthday, Prisha had a double mastectomy to masculinize her chest.
“I was under the impression that I was a boy — that I was born in the wrong body — and this medicine and surgery is what I needed and not being aligned is why I was suicidal,” she recalled.
After her surgery, Prisha said, she was lured to Florida to live with a group of people she online who told her she was unsafe living with her conservative, Chrisian family.
“When trans adults told me that there was gonna be a trans genocide in a few years and that conservatives wanted to kill us,” she explained. “I could not distinguish reality from fiction.”
Prisha lived with her online friends for three years, until having a positive experience while in therapy for her other mental health issues.
“I felt a tremendous amount of relief — and realized the transition didn’t help the underlying issues,” she said. “I was like, ‘Oh my God, I could have gotten this feeling and stopped being suicidal without mutilating my body.’”
That’s when she stopped taking her hormones.
“The biggest feeling was probably shame,” Prisha recalled. “I was really realizing that I had made such a fuss over having found what was going to cure me … and then been wrong about the cure.”
She moved to Michigan to start a new life, but the scars of her transition still haunt her.
Prisha suffers vocal cord pain and severe vaginal atrophy from the testosterone treatment. She also, she said, lost part of her nipples after they were grafted back on during her mastectomy. Because of her mastectomy she will never be able to breastfeed, and Prisha doesn’t even know whether she is still fertile.
But she is in a happy relationship now and talking to her family. Prisha also enrolled in Ferris State University to become a therapist and help other people who are struggling.
“I actually have a huge deal of empathy for trans people or trans identifying people,” she said.