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Saturday 24 August 2024

Griffin Sivret & The Lies They Sell


I cried. The emotion hit me from nowhere. I left the room, made a painful gasping sound in the toilet. I spontaneously gulped which somehow ripped my throat apart. I felt that dragging ache in my chest. I didn't even know her.


I was on X / Twitter, and read that TikTok's 'Gruffin' AKA Griffin Sivret, has died. 

For a while, I regularly watched Exulansic on YouTube, deconstructing the 'affirmative' surgeries pushed on the trans identifying. 

Sadly, I got seriously pissed off with Exulansic during the CAIS debacle and subsequent fallout. It was a real pity, because I liked her videos, her snark, and her veiled compassion.

Plus, Exulansic introduced many of us to Gruffin, AKA Griffin Sivret, someone I never knew much about until the last week.

Griffin was born Makayla Lynn Sivret in the last year of the second millennium. It would be her 25th birthday on August 31st - one week from the day I publish this.


I will not be referring to Griffin as a man. The insistence we use cross-sex pronouns is a foundational stilt that upholds this madness. I will not play along. It's not disrespect or insult - it's the opposite. It's a truth which needs saying. 

Here she is, imminently prior to her transition. 

There is nothing wrong with her. She's cute. She looks whole and healthy. Just a girl.


But she wasn't happy. 
Griffin said she was often suicidal. How much is retrospective overlay, I cannot know, but I can believe this unhappiness had long resided in her. 
Eating disorders plagued her. There are, predictably, heavy allusions to her being sexually assaulted or groomed among comments sections across social media platforms.


Griffin was little - five foot, one inch. Big, round, wide-set eyes like a dolly, a small jaw and mouth: I assumed she had a genetic disorder, but maybe I wouldn't have thought that, if she hadn't fucked with herself. 

TransManKinds

There are a few types among the 'trans guy' phenomenon, and Griffin seems to embody the one I find the saddest.

They are the female eunuchs. Sex-traumatised and beset with insecurity. A strong prevalence of self harm scars.


They declare themselves asexual, since that's a thing now (enhanced by chemical castration via puberty blockers) or they cast the net wide, claim to be bisexual or pansexual, because they don't understand sex yet, and everyone, anyone, but no one is almost the same. 

There are many types, but the lost girls are easy to spot.

She wore bright colours. She was introverted. Dorky and cute. Griffin called her bearded dragon her son, and apparently loved flamingos, just like her mother...

She was a gentle, thoughtful, fearful young women with an as yet undiscovered strength. She felt vulnerable, but fortified by her new demographic identification. 

Now, I mention I got pissed off with Exulansic, because I really was. However, what she has done in regards to exposing the horrors of the gender affirmation industry has been brutal and really important. In this case, she has documented, and simultaneously warned of, Griffin's demise. I wish Griffin listened.


Biting The Hand That Bleeds You 


For people like Griffin, or Shape Shifter, Scott Newgent, Ryan James, Richie Herron and all the others before and following behind - they are sold a product - a package deal, that temporarily shrink wraps their problems and offers salvation. They were born wrong, but, hallelujah, can be fixed.

Richie Herron

For the lost, dysphoric and cultic aligned, the gender affirming industry looms over the horizon, blocking light needed for growth. They dangle their hyped up, cult ordained goodies. Thousands of dollars a pop; presented as essential care, defended as civil rights. 

They assume moral superiority. They are saving lives. 

A choir of previously-respected individuals and institutions sing the jingle, chanting "come and get your lollipops!" while Diane Ehrensaft talks of 'gender creative' babies who un-pop their romper suits - not because babies hate restrictive clothing, but to signal - to mimic - the swishy, spinny skirt of their true gender.

There are cures for unhappiness and loneliness, a place of belonging with additional disciple delights. All functioning on the tacit understanding these people are desperate and believe something that cannot be true. 

Griffin tentatively, apologetically broaches the medical outrage visited upon her

The long run was not in fact so long






The TranScript

Once placed on the production line of 'affirmation', a script must be followed. Gaining their true self is perilously risky, and things go wrong, meaning a market in revision emerges to meet demand. This is your life now - be patient and thankful. 

The surgeon should not be attacked, but it is occasionally permitted. What is imperative is the surgery itself is never slated. Workman here always blame their tools. Remember who the tools are.

The failed patients, slowly, are shunned. Ultimately, the surgeries are perfect. The patient is not. 

Things go badly wrong often, because, of course they do. These luxury-essential interventions are radical, dangerous and highly complex, something difficult to convey on Instagram. Which is why, and where, they advertise. 


As Exulansic has pointed out time and again, the post surgical instructions vary so much, you have to wonder if these are flat out live experiments on desperate people. 


Should an inverted penis be dilated once, twice or three times a day? What should they douch with, and how often? Let's leave the victims to report back! It seems like lazy guesswork every time. Exulansic has made their mercenary disregard for human life day-glow yellow in a
world of exhausted grey.

All of this matters. And I want to thank her for the work she has done, and share my condolences, too, because I can see she is also hurting at the news of this tragic death, at just 24.


Disciples & Pilgrims


Griffin gathered a following of tens of thousands. She gained notoriety, posting about her phalloplasty and the never ending consequent suffering. The hashtags #FTM #Phallo #TransGuy #Trans #TransMasc and more were always there, cluttering the screen. 

An awkward kid; small, quiet, not conventionally attractive, adolescent skin forever. The great rainbow family on the 'net must have felt like an elysium. A promised land of love, acceptance and relief. A bolt hole and Valhalla. She ran to it.

Griffin came out, claiming to be a boy, at 13. I don't know about puberty suppression, it looks like the first line of attack was to fill her with Testosterone. She would have just turned 15.

By age 17 she had both her breasts removed. Hysterectomy age 19. 

A HYSTERECTOMY AGE 19.

And, at 21, despite the covid pandemic, she underwent phalloplasty. The radial forearm flap.

'Life-Saving Care'


This involves - brace yourself - a vaginectomy. The surgical removal of the vagina. The preferred method in Griffin's case was apparently subject to constant, almost secretive discussions and changes.


Clitoral Violence
 
They take a large rectangle of flesh off the bone, cover the wound with a skin graft from yet another site on the body. They roll it up and sew it over the old clitoris, which they 'bury'. Because that makes sense. Of course they do. 
This is a headstone. Reconstituted parts. Ironically a kind of Virgin Mary - a perpetually weeping monument to womanhood. 

Penis Envy

 


This is not about erogenous function - the opposite, it's transplanted arm flesh! Most of these doctors aren't micro surgeons, certainly not accomplished ones. The nerve function - how does a brain make sense of this? 

If you're really lucky, you'll get all the way to an arm-groin burrito, fitted with an inflatable device you can activate by your neo-scrotum, FKA your labia, that can be shoved into your lover. All going perfect, that will, hopefully, rub up against your buried clitoris. Enjoy! Don't go crazy now!

(*If the Testosterone hasn't caused your orgasms to be painful)

They create an approximation of a urethra (that delicate, fine tube with sphincter to control and close the stream of urine) out of remaining arm skin, which they attach to the real urethra and thread through the neo phallus


We Say Goodbye, You Say Phallo

It was April 2021. Griffin was 21  and still struggling with the aftermath of her hysterectomy which had left her in chronic pain. Covid was still causing panic, mass cancellations and heartbreak. 

Her surgeon, Dr Oren Ganor, who, curiously, is based at the Massachusetts Children's Hospital, seems pretty typical in the shark tank economy of American trans affirmative health care. The care post discharge was near nonexistent. Prior to that, Griffin was in ICU for seven days. Hospital for two weeks.

She kept hoping for the follow up surgeries - radial forearm flap comes in three, delightful stages. This would be to create the glans of the neo phallus and the scrotoplasty. She never got that far.

Griffin was discharged, sent home, and immediately fell ill. She drove for one hour back to the hospital, on the same day of her discharge, with lungs making a gurgling sound and pain to her sides. They said she was constipated. She was having trouble breathing. The hospital brushed it off, as if this was a case of forgetting to pee after sex, diagnosing a urinary infection.

They told her she'd wasted their time, and discharged her again.

Sensibly, she went for a second opinion, and within an hour of the earlier dismissal she collapsed. Blue lighted into A+E, she waited for a room overnight in agony, on a ventilator. She remarked often that she could have died.

She had more than ten blood clots including two leg-threatening deep vein thromboses. They thought her leg needed amputating, and regaining movement was a battle. 

Did you know Testosterone in females is associated with vastly exaggerated rates of blot clots, far more often than, say, smoking does, in a 21 year old? 

They ask you to stop smoking before surgery, but what about the magic affirming Testosterone? Was she advised to pause it? Wanna guess?

Griffin was also born with a blood clotting disorder. Another contraindication, but hey ho.

THEY DO NOT GIVE A FUCK

Sepsis got her, too, as a consequence of massive bacterial infection in her bladder and kidneys. 

Bilateral pulmonary embolism. 

30% will not survive a single pulmonary embolism. 10-20% of those survivors will die within three months. 

Oedema, aggravated by the bedrest and impossibility of urination, obviously.

She was in intensive care for weeks, needing physiotherapy to relearn how to walk.


In 2021 at 36 weeks pregnant, I had a spontaneous haemorrhage. There were no ambulances; 999 was engaged for ten minutes in one of the most privilege-checking experiences of my life.
2am on a Sunday morning, queued up outside A+E in my bloody nightdress, still intermittently gushing blood, while they did covid screens at the door. It was dystopian, frustrating and frightening. 
Your emergency was secondary to this plague, and you had better not forget that. 


So, what piece of shit doctor decided this was as good a time as any to chop this young woman up? 
Oren Ganor.



For a while after her eventual discharge, she was without the catheter. But, she had to wear a diaper. 
Trans Joy, remember? 

Affirmation and euphoria. 
Ganor is big on affirmation, euphoria and joy - when it benefits his career and pay packet.


Ganor and his team weren't interested in the persistent ache in her sides, the leaking and inability to fully void her bladder after her second release from intensive care, saying she didn't need an examination, and she was still constipated. 

They guessed at that, I imagine, not just because they weren't interested, but because they'd dosed her up on opioid painkillers which are notorious for this, and were likely too busy reeling in some other poor fucker. 

The people on the phone lines passed notes to the doctors and said she was a little neurotic, a hypochondriac. Calm down, this is hundreds of thousands of dollars of care! 


This negligence is so common with transgender surgeries, it's essentially a hallmark.

In fact, she'd developed diverticum in her neo-urethra - tiny, diverting pouches along the vessel that collect, but don't clear, urine.

If bacteria have awards for best homes, specifically best homes to raise a colony by binary fission, then this is a palace. 
It doesn't matter how many times the antibiotic bailiffs come in, something will always be stashed away, ready to start anew.

They advised her to shake better or perhaps some other ritualistic act of faith they (pretend to) subscribe to. The leaking incontinence and pain continued from at least June, and in September they agreed to see her.
 

They booked her in for late November


All this, it may not surprise you, lead to constant infections. The only standing to pee she gained was via a catheter or diaper. 

She developed chronic and persistent UTIs. She contracted staphyloccocus. Lord knows how many antibiotics she got through.

They eventually opened her up and discovered multiple bladder stones she had no chance of passing. 

Her body was so desperate to excrete the urine, it forced a new channel from her ureter (not urethra, but the the ureter. A pre-bladder vessel, direct from the kidney) to where her vagina once was. This, of course, was a rough and nebulous chamber made from scarred and scarring tissue, with endless diverted paths and places for bacteria to colonize.

At one stage, she could only pass one or two drops of urine at a time. It must have been agonising.


Sunk Cost: Phalloplasty


Griffin frequently posted with excitement and anticipation for her next revision - patching holes up with skin from elsewhere, or her dream of urethral lengthening, to form the route of exit as exists in a man. To stand and pee.

A supra pubic catheter remained for the rest of her days.

There were strictures - constriction of the urethra. A never ending whistle stop tour of horrible urinary / renal system failings that should not feature in an otherwise healthy person in their early twenties. 


She sweetly raised the 'inherent stigma' associated with incontinence and having to carry a drainage bag around - always the activist, intent on awareness. She took it in her good natured stride. With reality-retardant denial.
The urethra never became. To be perfectly honest, I'm amazed it has ever worked.

The earlier excitement over stage two slowly gave way to a remarkably patient count down to the next revision surgery, or, over time, a shrugging resignation she was not to get what she hoped, but maybe she would be able to live sort-of normally.


How frequently she contemplated the absolute shitshow visited upon her by surgical maiming and the consistent lack of medical care afterwards, I don't know. 

I suspect they were intrusive, nagging realizations that were pathologised as depression and battened down with a terrible, sinking horror. 

To many, Griffin was the lucky one, to have a family who supported and affirmed. Medical insurance that covered the lion's share. Not like those poor fuckers on GoFundMe, waiting so long for it they change their minds.


I'm not entirely sure of the final number of revision surgeries, but she was definitely up to nine. Just to sort stage one. 

All to fix that urethra, and stand up to pee like a man. 

A five foot man.

But, continual infections are damaging. Post sepsis syndrome affects 50% of those who survive.


When she was set to embark upon this surgery, as a healthy 21 year old with functional urinary tract, the surgeon told Griffin there was a 50/50 chance of complications. She later complained, with huge reticence, that actually the stats for all surgeons for stage one are more like 90-95% for urinary tract complications alone, and with that surgeon (Oren Ganor) she knew of not one person who hadn't had significant issues and multiple surgical revisions.

This post surgical script, the reticence, it's integral to the ideological capture these minds are subject to. 

You cannot express regret. Potentially, you can say you wish you'd chosen a different surgeon, while still paying respect to their dedication to 'aligning trans bodies and brains.'

Once regret is uttered, that's blasphemy. You might as well be a detransitioner - a traitor. Never really trans, were they? Whatever exactly that is.

Amidst a surround of deep, promising messages and assurances, à la "come on, none of you would have my luck, lol" as shock absorbers, she lay out her complications, because clearly, this was her fault. She swore 'it was still worth it!' 

She was as loyal as could be. Transition saved her life, she said, as she explained she'd spent the last year housebound, on a catheter, immobile, in crippling pain and unable to sleep, deeply suicidal.

If they don't pay their respects in this way, the mighty, mythical, franchise family will swiftly disown. And that's almost the worst thing that can ever happen. 

Griffin had eating disorders and significant body dysmorphia, present long before the trans identity. She made some articulation between dysmorphia and dysphoria, that I think was desperate denial-blurring, after her mastectomy. 

She had her fucking breasts removed, and still couldn't go topless outside. The surgeons fucked that up, too. Eight thousand dollars, and she hated it.

The Testosterone had to stop at least once, for at least a year.  

As it turns out, Griffin did have a genetic condition that caused issues with connective tissue, as well as the clotting disorder. This, again, is a significant contraindication for surgery. These disorders commonly accompany pain. 

And Griffin had constant pain from the damage caused by DVTs and the swelling, the scar tissue, nerve damage, infections, immobility. 

They removed her radial artery to supply the neo phallus. That useless, sexless simulacrum, entirely unknown to lovers, just a bad work day to surgeons.


It was just a couple of months after leaving intensive care.

What a fucking brilliant idea - a patient who had a very recent encounter with thrombosis, including deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary embolism. Let's remove the artery in her maimed arm? That's not a crazy, reckless procedure. Give it a go!

Gotta be worth a try. Anything to keep that pseudo-phallus alive.

Which brings me back to the beginning, to what made me cry.

In 2021, Griffin said on TikTok she was addicted to opiates. She was going through all of this, suffering excruciatingly painful procedures, boredom, movement restriction, and trying to manage the most volatile experience of impulses, intrusive thoughts and moods.

I was addicted to opiates. The way out of it was complicated. It always involves caring for your health, but one thing for me is I never, ever, take any opioid. Ever. 

No codeine when a crown cracks and sends lightning strikes through my jaw. No pethidine when in indescribable agony in a complex labour, no morphine when my 3rd degree cuts and tears are sutured - nothing

Never

But Griffin's doctors were not so cautious, and she was too young to know. 

She said it began after her hysterectomy, a major abdominal surgery that no doubt was minimised beforehand and left her using significant quantities of opiates. Persistent pain following mastectomy becomes chronic in up to 60% of patients. 

I remember the profound relief, the love affair that struck me as a teenager when I discovered opiates. 

It was the one, true love of my youth. Every secretive trip to score, to use, was what I imagine an affair feels like. The irrepressible desire, un-soothable anxiety and thirst. The crushing guilt and shame.

I could write ballads on it. But it quickly turns on you, and addiction is hell. I honestly wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and I hold grudges like family heirlooms. 

Poor Griffin, relentlessly victimised by an industry supposed to exist to help maintain and preserve health. They made a mint.

How much was she expected to endure? This introverted, tiny kid with mental health problems, terrible self esteem and a hopefull faith in the industry of modified-commodified body parts. 

America is famously dealing with the effects of the opioid disaster, likely exacerbated not just by mercenary drug sales, but the high cost of restorative surgery and/or therapy. Someone commented on TikTok of Griffin's to say her teeth needed fixing. She couldn't afford it, she said. Probably true. So, how the fuck is this possible?


Expenses over just one year 

In 2023, at 23 years old, she had a heart attack. 

Griffin was a gentle person. I've looked through her social media; she never wished harm on anyone. No flashes of spite, narcissism or rage. No shitty stuff about terfs or JK Rowling or railing against whoever was in the frame. The angriest post was directed at a group formed by her own 'community'.


The entirety of her online presence (and she spoke a little on how much she lacked an outside life) shows someone very much not self-centred. Someone who couldn't take her suffering seriously at all. She cared, and thought she was doing good. She bore the medical violence as quietly and dutifully as an archetypal battered wife. 

She did nothing wrong. 

Just a family oriented, small town kid who's most egregious act was underplaying the unspeakable cruelty sold to her as transition. 

'2023 still hasn't killed me but she keeps trying lol' she fake-joked, leaving me convinced she just needed the cool kids to listen and tell her stop. 

To please, stop, Griffin. You matter and are valuable without any of this.

As Exulansic herself says - she was perfectly healthy. 


The mastectomy left her as unhappy as before, and presumably craving with an addict mind the 'trans joy' of surgical affirmation. 

The hysterectomy left her in agony, gobbling opioids. The phalloplasty killed her by a thousand cuts. She couldn't take it seriously. 

Her kidneys couldn't cope. She spent days hooked up to dialysis. You can see the central line fitted in her chest. They must have really fucked her venous system, or maybe she needed antibiotics straight to the heart.


In May 2024 she posted to reassure a commenter she had not committed suicide. 

It was not reassuring.


There had been a long break, and I think people understood the reality she was dying. Another post in July - she had a bleed on the brain. 

Notice, maybe, the closed eyes. The averted gaze. She did not want to engage with this, but there was clearly something she wanted...


And here it is - the final picture.


Within two weeks, she was dead.

According to Exulansic, someone known to the family made contact. She posted on X:

"Griffin Sivret did indeed die of a second, catastrophic stroke shortly after she was hospitalized for the brain bleed she posted about. 

"After the second stroke, Griffin had surgery to remove a portion of her skull, to allow her inflamed brain to expand without forcing the brainstem to fatally herniate through the foramen magnum, but the damage was done. According my source, she had no brain function. She never regained consciousness. She was taken off life support after a week."

Medical professionals took a healthy, sad kid and dosed her up. They took bits of her away in medical waste bins, charging hundreds of thousands of dollars for the fuckery. They sold her a thousand lies and never came up with any of the goods.

They sold her drugs, she became addicted. They didn't care. They sold her more pharmaceuticals and procedures, left her writhing in agony on phonelines, cut her some more, and when it went wrong they dumped her at the morgue with a million dollar bill.

She is dead. 

Makayla is dead.

After 40 months of hope-crushing realisation, sickness, worry, pain.

 Disappointment is the loss that stings the most, somehow. 

She went to her grave with bits missing, bits moved and reshaped.

 It is an unmitigated tragedy. 

Griffin deserved happiness; a real community that actually cared. If she'd found some meaning elsewhere, we wouldn't be here. She should have had good health for decades. 

'I Blame The Parents'

If you snoop as I have, you will see how close she was to her parents. It's very easy to blame them, but there's no doubt they loved and adored their child.

They were sold just as much of a scam as she was. They should have known better, but, I don't think they did.

In Griffin's home state, Massachusetts, children can be removed from their parents if they don't affirm. The campaigns to silence opposition has been remarkably successful. There was no recognition of ROGD ten years ago, and even now the activists do their best to hide it.

It does seem strange they didn't take her off their insurance to stop this insanity, but the narrative is boomed out by the whole of liberal media and this is that the realist parent fails their child in an unforgivable manner. They will lose them through suicide or estrangement. 

Griffin's parents clearly loved their child, and are devastated. This is her dad's post, but her mum seems no less floored by this unspeakable loss. She had one baby, in her forties, and she died before her.

I cannot fathom the grief.


Trans Wrongs 

Predictably, trans activists were either silent, or quick to minimise this. They want to convince the world that terfs, transphobes, despise trans people. The demonisation of feminists cannot withstand the actual compassion and sadness the vast majority of us have. 

'Anyone can get sepsis' and 'we don't know why Griffin died' were the only few mutterings. 

Heinous Tom Thumb impersonator, Evan Urquhart stepped up like the regime fan she is and locked her account while sending some dude who calls himself Alyssa to blur the edges of this patent example of myriad medical negligence and malpractice.

Urghhh-quhart

Clearly, for tiny, repellent Evan, transing for a hairy face, enhanced expression of misogyny and perpetual acne has been worth it. But she never endured what Griffin did. She knows better.

I'm so sickened by this response, I want to give it a moment.

According to Urquhart's rag
Assigned Media, '
Raichik Scaremongers About Phalloplasty'

"There is no evidence that Griffin’s death" was a result of phalloplasty, they lie. It's as meaningful as arguing someone who died by suicide actually died by hanging. It's not even semantics. It's a preposterous lie.

"What is clear, however, is that Griffin never regretted his decision to undergo phalloplasty."




The most horrifying part here is, of course she regretted it. But she knew the script, and stuck to it. Like the battered wife who's eulogy reads how in love she was with her husband.

This is the sunk cost fallacy. The desperate denial of someone crying out on social media for someone - just not a terf - to tell her to stop, and possibly the best reason imaginable for banning it. Even Griffin didn't have it in her to publicly denounce it. What does this tell us?

They quote Griffin “there are surgeons out there who will help you survive and recover in every way possible”.

"Help you survive" seems like the second best reason for banning it.

She Was Fine Before All This.

To add insult to injury, 'Alyssa' writes of Griffin's "willingness to share his own trans joy" "even when the going got tough."

Well, the going certainly got tough for Griffin. As someone else on X remarked, they had never seen a picture of Griffin smiling. It's true. Certainly not once she began transition. The joy is a synonym for horny. You know it, I know it.

Remember all of this the next time you are told who cares and who does not.
Fuck you, Eva and Alan.

Sleep well, Griffin - or Makayla. Whichever name you wanted to hear at the end. I'm so sorry.

I'm haunted by the constellation of factors that led to you born at the time you were, with its cultural insanity and snake oil surgeons. With the vulnerabilities you were handed.

It should never have been this way. You were monumentally failed, tragically unlucky, and deserved a society that valued and respected you as you were.

I can only hope your parents sue the surgeons, doctors, the hospitals and all concerned, into oblivion.

Do it.

Do it to protect other unhappy kids from the same. To do what I think you would want; because you never had the vitriol of a trans activist, and your only dishonesty was crafted to lie to yourself.

There was nothing wrong with you.










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