What happens when simply asking a question is treated like an act of aggression?
In 2020, journalist Abigail Shrier released Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters — and immediately found herself at the center of a cultural firestorm. Critics labeled her work dangerous. Bookstores pulled her title. Big Tech algorithms buried her interviews. And yet, the questions she raised refuse to go away.
This isn’t a review of Shrier’s book. Nor is it an endorsement or a condemnation. It’s something rarer: an open exploration of the ideas, concerns, and contradictions that Irreversible Damage — and others like it — have forced into the public conversation.
Because when an issue becomes too volatile to even discuss, it’s usually a sign that deeper truths are lurking underneath.
Let’s ask what we’re not supposed to ask.
A Quick Look at Abigail Shrier’s Work
In Irreversible Damage, Abigail Shrier investigates a sudden and dramatic rise in teenage girls identifying as transgender — a demographic shift that traditional gender clinics had rarely seen before. Shrier’s reporting suggests that this trend may, at least in part, reflect a new kind of social contagion: one shaped by peer influence, online communities, and wider cultural narratives about identity.
Her thesis touches a nerve. It raises uncomfortable questions about the speed at which irreversible medical treatments — puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones, surgeries — are being offered to adolescents. It challenges the prevailing idea that immediate affirmation is always the best or only response.
Shrier doesn’t argue that transgender identities aren’t real. Nor does she suggest that gender dysphoria doesn’t exist. Instead, she asks:
- Could some vulnerable teenagers be swept up in an identity they later regret?
- Are we sure the protocols being rushed into practice are safe for every young person?
- And perhaps most critically — what happens to children when adults are too afraid to say “wait” or “why”?
Predictably, the backlash was swift and severe. Shrier was accused of transphobia. Activists called for her book to be banned. Major media outlets either ignored her arguments or framed them as dangerous disinformation.
But whether one agrees or disagrees with her conclusions, the controversy around Irreversible Damage reveals something bigger than any one book or one author: a growing societal intolerance for even asking certain questions.
And that, perhaps, should worry us all.
The Broader Context — Other Books, Other Voices
Abigail Shrier isn’t the only writer to step into this minefield.
In fact, a growing number of authors — journalists, academics, and thinkers — have begun to question the speed, scope, and certainty of gender-related shifts in policy, medicine, and education. And they’ve faced similar storms.
Take The Madness of Crowds by Douglas Murray. A gay, atheist conservative from the UK, Murray wades into the complexities of identity politics — including gender — with sharp observations and a warning: when activism overtakes analysis, society starts to lose the plot. He doesn’t claim to have all the answers, but he’s adamant we’ve stopped asking the right questions.
Or consider When Harry Became Sally by Ryan T. Anderson. A measured, research-based critique of gender ideology, the book was banned by Amazon — a move that made more people curious than ever. Like Shrier, Anderson doesn’t deny that transgender people exist. But he questions whether affirmation-only approaches and irreversible medical interventions reflect science or ideology.
Here’s the common thread: these authors aren’t all from the same background, political camp, or worldview.
But they all hit a cultural tripwire — that invisible electric fence surrounding certain topics — and found out just how tightly the narrative is controlled.
So we have to ask:
- Why are some voices allowed to challenge mainstream narratives, while others are punished?
- When does safeguarding become gatekeeping — and vice versa?
- Are we creating systems of protection, or systems of obedience?
This isn’t just a literary trend. It’s a signal — that the Overton window (the range of ideas deemed socially acceptable) is narrowing. Fast. And that should be a red flag for anyone who values critical inquiry — no matter where they land politically or personally.
Because history doesn’t look kindly on the eras where certain books couldn’t be read, questions couldn’t be asked, and truths couldn’t be told.
The Fragility of Open Debate
If you have to shut people up to win an argument, have you really won?
One of the most unsettling patterns to emerge from the Abigail Shrier controversy — and others like it — is the speed at which dissent is not just debated, but deleted. Bookstores quietly remove titles. Social media platforms downrank or deplatform. Speakers are disinvited. Critics are smeared.
Even when the arguments are backed by data, peer-reviewed studies, or lived experience, the outcome is the same: you can’t say that here.
We’ve seen it before. In climate debates, medical controversies, and political scandals. The language shifts from discussion to decree. Words like “denier,” “dangerous,” and “misinformation” become catch-alls to silence opposition, not engage with it.
So we must ask:
- When does protecting people from harm become protecting ideologies from scrutiny?
- What happens when scientific inquiry is replaced by emotional outrage?
- Are we building a culture of safety — or submission?
And more broadly: Who benefits when certain views are off-limits?
When Irreversible Damage was temporarily banned from Target, people noticed. When When Harry Became Sally disappeared from Amazon, it sparked more interest than a thousand promotional campaigns ever could. Suppression often backfires — but the chilling effect remains. Fewer people write. Fewer people speak. Self-censorship becomes the norm.
That’s the real loss.
Not that we might get something wrong in public — but that we’re too afraid to try.
If open debate is a foundational pillar of democracy, then silencing dissent — even dissent we disagree with — might just be the crack in the base.
The Cost of Getting It Wrong
Let’s imagine two possibilities.
First: Abigail Shrier and others raising concerns are wrong.
Maybe the sharp rise in adolescent girls identifying as transgender is simply better recognition. Maybe swift affirmation and medical transition truly are the safest, most compassionate responses. If that’s true, then some of the current resistance is indeed rooted in fear, misunderstanding, or an outdated view of gender.
Second: Shrier — and other voices of caution — are at least partially right.
Maybe social pressures, peer contagion, and online influence are accelerating irreversible medical decisions for vulnerable young people who might otherwise have found different ways to navigate identity struggles. Maybe some of the treatments being rushed forward will, over time, reveal unintended harms — medically, psychologically, or both.
The uncomfortable truth?
We don’t know yet.
The data is incomplete. The long-term outcomes are still unfolding. And policies are being made faster than questions can be answered.
If we’re wrong — on either side — the cost is staggering.
- If skeptics are wrong, vulnerable youth could be denied the care they genuinely need.
- If activists are wrong, an entire generation could be left grappling with irreversible decisions made during moments of teenage uncertainty.
Either way, real human lives are at stake.
And yet, instead of slowing down and demanding robust, transparent research, many institutions have adopted a kind of ideological fast track: Affirm first. Question later — if ever.
But shouldn’t the stakes demand exactly the opposite?
Shouldn’t we be asking harder questions, not fewer?
Shouldn’t we demand scientific rigor, not ideological conformity?
When politics races ahead of science — and when fear silences dissent — history teaches us that the casualties are often counted years, even decades, later.
We owe it to the next generation to make sure we’re not acting out of fear — of being wrong, of being labeled, of being ostracized — but out of a genuine search for truth, wherever it leads.
Why This Conversation Matters (Now More Than Ever)
It would be easier — so much easier — to look away.
To assume the experts have it all figured out.
To trust that every headline, every new policy, every school curriculum change has been thoroughly vetted, researched, and proven safe.
To believe that the controversies around Abigail Shrier’s Irreversible Damage and similar works are just fringe distractions from an otherwise settled issue.
But reality keeps tapping us on the shoulder.
Rates of adolescent mental health struggles are skyrocketing.
Demand for medical transition services among young people has exploded in ways never before seen — geographically clustered, socially influenced, and often co-occurring with depression, anxiety, and trauma.
At the same time, we see institutions racing to affirm and medicalize with almost no allowance for nuance, hesitation, or second opinions.
We are building systems, fast — and asking questions, slow.
And that’s backwards.
Because the cost of being wrong isn’t measured in online outrage or political points.
It’s measured in real bodies. Real regrets. Real futures that might have played out differently if only someone, somewhere, had dared to pause, to ask, to wonder.
This isn’t about denying care to those who need it.
It’s about making sure the care we provide — to any vulnerable young person — is truly care, and not a performance of political loyalty.
It’s about restoring something dangerously out of fashion: the right to think critically, speak carefully, and ask uncomfortable questions without fear of erasure.
Because if we can’t ask “what if we’re wrong?”
then we’re already halfway to being so.
Critical Thinking Starts with Courage
In a time when asking questions can feel dangerous, curiosity becomes an act of quiet rebellion.
Whether you agree with Abigail Shrier, Douglas Murray, Ryan T. Anderson — or none of them — the real loss isn’t in disagreement.
It’s in the silence that grows when disagreement is forbidden.
Keep asking. Keep thinking. Especially when you’re told not to.
Further Reading:
If today’s questions made you curious, you might also explore:
Irreversible Damage by Abigail Shrier
A bold investigation into the rise of rapid-onset gender dysphoria among teenage girls and what it could mean for the future.
The Madness of Crowds by Douglas Murray
An exploration of identity, power, and the dangers of silencing complex conversations in favor of slogans.
[When Harry Became Sally by Ryan T. Anderson] coming soon
A respectful but critical look at the science, ethics, and consequences of modern gender theory — and the controversy that followed.
Critical Mindshift is about exploring perspectives — not enforcing conclusions.
What if the truth lies not in shouting louder, but in daring to ask better questions?
Image acknowledgment:
We’re grateful to the talented photographers and designers on Unsplash for their beautiful, free-to-use images. The image on this page incorporates an image by Greg Daines, which was then combined into a custom graphic using Canva. You can explore more of Greg’s work here: https://unsplash.com/@gregdaines1990.
