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Detachable Penis: A Queer Legal Saga
A darkly humorous and groundbreaking memoir from a new voice in queer literature
'A work of great heart and brain. Elkin is compulsory reading, always.' —Chloe Hooper
In Detachable A Queer Legal Saga, Elkin relates his bumpy journey from lesbian to transgender lawyer in the aftermath of the 2017 marriage equality postal survey.
As the inaugural lawyer of Victoria's queer law service, Elkin is quickly immersed in thorny debates around trans inclusion in sport, children's access to puberty blockers, birth certificate law reform and the Christian right's demand for enhanced religious freedoms. Set against the backdrop of a growing moral panic about the 'trans agenda', Elkin reflects on the double-edged sword of visibility post the 'transgender tipping point'.
Elkin offers an honest, unflinching account of chest surgery, phalloplasty, the emotional impact of cross-sex hormones and the perils of airport body scanners. Undogmatic and refreshingly open-minded, Elkin explores his ambivalence about aspects of his own transition, masculinity and fears of lesbian erasure as he encounters a new world of gender-affirming psychologists, surgeons and speech pathologists.
Through an examination of Elkin's legal casework and law reform efforts, Detachable Penis offers a kaleidoscopic view of LGBTIQA+ communities living on the margins. This politically sharp narrative offers a nuanced account of the lateral violence, poor mental health and activist burn out that besets the contemporary LGBTIQA+ rights movement.
Part love letter and part cautionary tale, Detachable Penis offers a darkly humorous glimpse into Elkin's unique life in the law that will undoubtedly spark many prickly conversations.
'Sam Elkin has a sharp eye and a wit that crackles. Detachable Penis is searching in its honesty and possesses a streetwise kindness. Elkin makes us feel as if we, too, are at the shoreline of an old life, contemplating the wide expanse of the one to begin. He knows that the body of the law and the human body are similar. They contain so much; they contain us. Here, Elkin creates a new body of work that grapples with both and never settles for the narrow wisdoms of the past.' —Rick Morton
'A work of great heart and brain. Elkin is compulsory reading, always.' —Chloe Hooper
In Detachable A Queer Legal Saga, Elkin relates his bumpy journey from lesbian to transgender lawyer in the aftermath of the 2017 marriage equality postal survey.
As the inaugural lawyer of Victoria's queer law service, Elkin is quickly immersed in thorny debates around trans inclusion in sport, children's access to puberty blockers, birth certificate law reform and the Christian right's demand for enhanced religious freedoms. Set against the backdrop of a growing moral panic about the 'trans agenda', Elkin reflects on the double-edged sword of visibility post the 'transgender tipping point'.
Elkin offers an honest, unflinching account of chest surgery, phalloplasty, the emotional impact of cross-sex hormones and the perils of airport body scanners. Undogmatic and refreshingly open-minded, Elkin explores his ambivalence about aspects of his own transition, masculinity and fears of lesbian erasure as he encounters a new world of gender-affirming psychologists, surgeons and speech pathologists.
Through an examination of Elkin's legal casework and law reform efforts, Detachable Penis offers a kaleidoscopic view of LGBTIQA+ communities living on the margins. This politically sharp narrative offers a nuanced account of the lateral violence, poor mental health and activist burn out that besets the contemporary LGBTIQA+ rights movement.
Part love letter and part cautionary tale, Detachable Penis offers a darkly humorous glimpse into Elkin's unique life in the law that will undoubtedly spark many prickly conversations.
'Sam Elkin has a sharp eye and a wit that crackles. Detachable Penis is searching in its honesty and possesses a streetwise kindness. Elkin makes us feel as if we, too, are at the shoreline of an old life, contemplating the wide expanse of the one to begin. He knows that the body of the law and the human body are similar. They contain so much; they contain us. Here, Elkin creates a new body of work that grapples with both and never settles for the narrow wisdoms of the past.' —Rick Morton
231 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 30, 2024
10 people are currently reading
181 people want to read
About the author
Sam Elkin
9 books7 followersSam Elkin is a writer, lawyer and radio maker.
His essays have been published in Antithesis Journal, Bent Street and Overland, and he is the co-host of the podcasts Transgender Warriors and Transdemic.
In 2019 he was a Wheeler Centre Next Chapter fellow, and is currently at work on a collection of autobiographical essays.
His essays have been published in Antithesis Journal, Bent Street and Overland, and he is the co-host of the podcasts Transgender Warriors and Transdemic.
In 2019 he was a Wheeler Centre Next Chapter fellow, and is currently at work on a collection of autobiographical essays.
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
May 3, 2024
I loved this book so much! An honest voice about navigating his own transition while working as a lawyer for victoria’s LGBTQIA+ legal service. Sharp, humorous and full of heart. An important read for understanding the hardships the queer community face through our legal system but also the day to day.
June 17, 2024
raised many questions. none of which i have the right to answer. absolutely fanging to discuss with a likeminded friend with different perspective and life experience on a long walk around princes park. likely place for us to be.
July 8, 2025
recommended and borrowed from lilli ~
An easy read that I spoke about to numerous people about over the last few days. I won’t shut up about it! Sam’s transition runs parallel to the running of the LGBTIQ Legal Service, shinning light to the easy and hard bits of both. At times, his transition reflected similar experiences to those around me, so while nothing new was introduced to me, it’s a book I recommended to a few family members and it’s always soo interesting to read to such a personal note on someone’s own story. How powerful that he was able to put something like this into worlds for us, strangers!, to consume.
What really stood out to me and captivated my attention was the setting of St Kilda - coming from a family where my parents worked and volunteered in various areas of St Kilda before they had kids, from the Eco Centre to the Crisis Centre. As someone so routed in my queer community in the north, it’s hard to imagine interacting with the Pride Centre or the gentrified club ridden streets of Acland and Chapel St, over the past few years.
Reading through Sam’s client’s stories and struggles, the differing opinions and politics of the queers, the not-for-profits/for profits and lack of funding is just a reminder of the ongoing issues that, still, remains underfunded and the community workers overloaded. With close friends working in aid and studying social work, and my parents both overworked social workers, I know for a fact that community work is what keeps the world spinning.
The burn out of Sam’s workload, while having to hold yourself together to support others going through similar, worse, bad, situations, is for a lack of a better word, tiring. Even just to read. And the conversations around trans identity, bathrooms (ugh) from TERFs, just so current with the world again… UK recent law changes about ‘women’ and the USA… in general… Shut up and let my community rest !
An easy read that I spoke about to numerous people about over the last few days. I won’t shut up about it! Sam’s transition runs parallel to the running of the LGBTIQ Legal Service, shinning light to the easy and hard bits of both. At times, his transition reflected similar experiences to those around me, so while nothing new was introduced to me, it’s a book I recommended to a few family members and it’s always soo interesting to read to such a personal note on someone’s own story. How powerful that he was able to put something like this into worlds for us, strangers!, to consume.
What really stood out to me and captivated my attention was the setting of St Kilda - coming from a family where my parents worked and volunteered in various areas of St Kilda before they had kids, from the Eco Centre to the Crisis Centre. As someone so routed in my queer community in the north, it’s hard to imagine interacting with the Pride Centre or the gentrified club ridden streets of Acland and Chapel St, over the past few years.
Reading through Sam’s client’s stories and struggles, the differing opinions and politics of the queers, the not-for-profits/for profits and lack of funding is just a reminder of the ongoing issues that, still, remains underfunded and the community workers overloaded. With close friends working in aid and studying social work, and my parents both overworked social workers, I know for a fact that community work is what keeps the world spinning.
The burn out of Sam’s workload, while having to hold yourself together to support others going through similar, worse, bad, situations, is for a lack of a better word, tiring. Even just to read. And the conversations around trans identity, bathrooms (ugh) from TERFs, just so current with the world again… UK recent law changes about ‘women’ and the USA… in general… Shut up and let my community rest !
July 8, 2024
Best memoir I've read. The writing was so smooth, insightful, humble and honest. Sam Elkin carries you gently through his life from elation to frustration. Could not put it down. Great insights into some unexpected parts of the Australia's Queerscape and legal issues. Can't wait to see what he writes next.
May 18, 2025
An interesting look into the life of a trans lawyer that worked specifically with LGBTQ+ persons for two years. Author is very honest and straightforward, and brings up things that I haven’t really thought about before when it comes to this topic of conversation.
June 16, 2024
I picked up this book in the bookshop & immediately liked the style: typeface and spacing. This continued to prove a plus when I read it.
It’s the story of Sam Elkin’s transition to male, and of his career at the same time.
Very well-told and very interesting!
It’s the story of Sam Elkin’s transition to male, and of his career at the same time.
Very well-told and very interesting!
April 20, 2024
Once I started this book I couldn’t put it down. I read it while getting dressed, while standing in line to be served in the supermarket and while waiting for my prescription at the chemist. I could not put it down. A very witty honest review of the not for profit industrial complex, minority stress and lateral violence with the honest and complex portrayal of one individuals experience of gender. Amazing!!!!
July 7, 2024
This memoir is, weirdly, funny. Maybe it’s gallows humour, because the subject matter - transitioning, chronically-underfunded legal centres, the travails of the LGBTIQ+ community (should there be such a thing) - aren’t themselves amusing. But Sam has a bitingly witty turn of phrase, and I found myself frequently chuckling.
I also really wanted to know who everyone was. The book begins with a disclaimer: ‘This is a work of narrative non-fiction. In some cases, the names of individuals and organisations have been changed to protect their privacy. All client names, identifying features and incidental information have been significantly altered to protect confidentiality. Some events have been amalgamated or compressed, and dialogue has been re-created based on the author's best recollections.’
Some people are obvious: ‘the Victorian Commissioner of LGBTIQ Communities took to the stage.’ Well, that has to be Row Allen, not just because of the description: ‘a butch-of-centre queer woman who'd recently started using gender-neutral pronouns’ but because Row just was the Commissioner. But is ‘Florence’ who I think they are? ‘Florence from Rainbow Rights strode in next, with all the confidence and gravitas of a future prime minister. Rainbow Rights was one of several national LGBTIQ campaign organisations currently in a messaging battle to claim that they had 'won' marriage equality. I found the whole thing very distasteful.’ I read that description and am pretty sure I know who it is, but maybe not. (It still made me laugh.)
I love Sam’s comments about what it is like to be a man: ‘unsurprisingly, living the life of a white man in Australia was incredibly easy. I started getting served at bars without waiting for fifteen minutes, and people stopped talking over me in meetings. Even people who had known me pre-transition seemed to treat me with more respect’. Fascinating! And: ‘I am read as male almost all the time now, which comes with a range of benefits. More people listen to me when I'm speaking and don't bump into me as I walk down the street. I can buy the clothes I want without staff raising an eyebrow, and I'm getting better at setting boundaries.’ But Sam is also honest about his the fears of medical appointments and a future in aged care, the difficulty of constantly having to out himself as trans in situations in which his body will be read as ‘female’ even when post hormone-treatment and top surgery it clearly isn’t.
Then there is the Detachable Penis of the title and cover. It exists.
Also, the clearest lesson? Community legal centres need to be funded!
I also really wanted to know who everyone was. The book begins with a disclaimer: ‘This is a work of narrative non-fiction. In some cases, the names of individuals and organisations have been changed to protect their privacy. All client names, identifying features and incidental information have been significantly altered to protect confidentiality. Some events have been amalgamated or compressed, and dialogue has been re-created based on the author's best recollections.’
Some people are obvious: ‘the Victorian Commissioner of LGBTIQ Communities took to the stage.’ Well, that has to be Row Allen, not just because of the description: ‘a butch-of-centre queer woman who'd recently started using gender-neutral pronouns’ but because Row just was the Commissioner. But is ‘Florence’ who I think they are? ‘Florence from Rainbow Rights strode in next, with all the confidence and gravitas of a future prime minister. Rainbow Rights was one of several national LGBTIQ campaign organisations currently in a messaging battle to claim that they had 'won' marriage equality. I found the whole thing very distasteful.’ I read that description and am pretty sure I know who it is, but maybe not. (It still made me laugh.)
I love Sam’s comments about what it is like to be a man: ‘unsurprisingly, living the life of a white man in Australia was incredibly easy. I started getting served at bars without waiting for fifteen minutes, and people stopped talking over me in meetings. Even people who had known me pre-transition seemed to treat me with more respect’. Fascinating! And: ‘I am read as male almost all the time now, which comes with a range of benefits. More people listen to me when I'm speaking and don't bump into me as I walk down the street. I can buy the clothes I want without staff raising an eyebrow, and I'm getting better at setting boundaries.’ But Sam is also honest about his the fears of medical appointments and a future in aged care, the difficulty of constantly having to out himself as trans in situations in which his body will be read as ‘female’ even when post hormone-treatment and top surgery it clearly isn’t.
Then there is the Detachable Penis of the title and cover. It exists.
Also, the clearest lesson? Community legal centres need to be funded!
June 26, 2024
At this year’s BWF I attended a panel chaired by Winnie Dunn – she’s a writer, editor, the general manager of Sweatshop Literacy Movement and someone I admire. The fascinating panel was about the tension between society and the self, the art of blending memoir and social observation. It featured three writers: Bebe Oliver, Dominic Gordon, and Sam Elkin, and I was compelled to buy each of their books.
Melbourne lawyer Sam Elkin’s debut novel has a catchy name: Detachable Penis: A Queer Legal Saga. It’s a journalistic account of his experience working for a queer legal rights service in Victoria. His commencement of this demanding job coincides with his decision to start taking testosterone. He shares many of the challenges he faced transforming his body whilst simultaneously helping clients navigate their legal issues.
Sam is a generous, honest writer and I really enjoyed spending my reading time with him. A memorable aspect of the story are the people he encounters, personally and professionally, (he’s changed the names and identifying details). Among them are his beautiful partner Gemma, and formidable, event organising law student Beanie, who wears colourful faux freckles, and a medieval knight’s uniform, or crushed velvet with a ra-ra skirt. Beanie is a person you want on your side, and when Sam makes a social media misstep, Beanie’s wrath is a force to be reckoned with. The situation is both scary and funny. There are many more wonderfully written cameo appearances of other characters.
Sam is a natural storyteller, and his experiences learning about the complex politics in the LGBTIQA+ community cover the full gamut of emotions: joy, tenderness, frustration, fear, humour and grief. He examines law reform efforts, the fierce disagreements within trans-activist communities, the vast mental health challenges experienced in LGBTIQA+ communities, and the daunting challenges faced by activists.
He explores timely, hot topics such as trans inclusion in sports, children's access to puberty blockers, public bathroom access debates, birth certificate law reform, and more.
This informative book covers robust topics, and it’s equally heart wrenching, hilarious and charming.
Melbourne lawyer Sam Elkin’s debut novel has a catchy name: Detachable Penis: A Queer Legal Saga. It’s a journalistic account of his experience working for a queer legal rights service in Victoria. His commencement of this demanding job coincides with his decision to start taking testosterone. He shares many of the challenges he faced transforming his body whilst simultaneously helping clients navigate their legal issues.
Sam is a generous, honest writer and I really enjoyed spending my reading time with him. A memorable aspect of the story are the people he encounters, personally and professionally, (he’s changed the names and identifying details). Among them are his beautiful partner Gemma, and formidable, event organising law student Beanie, who wears colourful faux freckles, and a medieval knight’s uniform, or crushed velvet with a ra-ra skirt. Beanie is a person you want on your side, and when Sam makes a social media misstep, Beanie’s wrath is a force to be reckoned with. The situation is both scary and funny. There are many more wonderfully written cameo appearances of other characters.
Sam is a natural storyteller, and his experiences learning about the complex politics in the LGBTIQA+ community cover the full gamut of emotions: joy, tenderness, frustration, fear, humour and grief. He examines law reform efforts, the fierce disagreements within trans-activist communities, the vast mental health challenges experienced in LGBTIQA+ communities, and the daunting challenges faced by activists.
He explores timely, hot topics such as trans inclusion in sports, children's access to puberty blockers, public bathroom access debates, birth certificate law reform, and more.
This informative book covers robust topics, and it’s equally heart wrenching, hilarious and charming.
June 23, 2024
Eye-opening, insightful and most of all interesting.
I'm not a big fan of non-fiction, that is to say I don't read it at all, but this was incredible.
Elkin's writing style is particularly unique and engaging and the way he presents the emotionally turbulent and difficult parts of his transition is so well done. Not to mention the ongoing dissection of and engagement with the legal system, in all of its complexities.
It highlights well the unique qualities of the lgbtqia+ community as well as the collection of particularly unique and complex issues that haunt, perplex and harm individuals within it, and the community as a whole.
This book raises some interesting debates and questions the fragmentation and lack of allyship within the queer community in online spaces, government entities and general society, which was really interesting to engage with.
Overall, it was honest, engaging and eye opening. Sam Elkin was full of moral debate that was underscored with caring both in the text, but also in the writing. I would love to try and discuss this with people in some form or another.
I'm not a big fan of non-fiction, that is to say I don't read it at all, but this was incredible.
Elkin's writing style is particularly unique and engaging and the way he presents the emotionally turbulent and difficult parts of his transition is so well done. Not to mention the ongoing dissection of and engagement with the legal system, in all of its complexities.
It highlights well the unique qualities of the lgbtqia+ community as well as the collection of particularly unique and complex issues that haunt, perplex and harm individuals within it, and the community as a whole.
This book raises some interesting debates and questions the fragmentation and lack of allyship within the queer community in online spaces, government entities and general society, which was really interesting to engage with.
Overall, it was honest, engaging and eye opening. Sam Elkin was full of moral debate that was underscored with caring both in the text, but also in the writing. I would love to try and discuss this with people in some form or another.
February 6, 2025
This cover is obviously genius, and while the book doesn't quite live up to it - what book could - it is pretty great. Elkin covers his time working as Victoria's first dedicated LGBTQI+ outreach lawyer, while he shifts his gender presentation. The memoir covers the exhausting experience of doing community law work, with a focus both on unrealistic case loads and the risk of vicarious trauma and of the inanity of grant cycles and community infighting. And of course, it covers the experiences of transitioning, with the constant guessing game of whether the emotional roller coaster is hormones or prejudice. Elkin comes across as a sensitive young man, hesitating to call judgement without context or doubt, and tackles the worlds of transmasculinity and butch with care. The crochet penis is a surprisingly touching section of the book (not that kind of touching, very PG) and this could go some way to broadening understanding.
I do, however, need to stop reading so many books set in Melbourne, which keeps reminding me of everything I disliked about living there.
I do, however, need to stop reading so many books set in Melbourne, which keeps reminding me of everything I disliked about living there.
December 7, 2024
In this memoir of work and life, Sam Elkin interrogates "the border between personal and professional identities" that makes up "the rainbow industrial complex". When he is asked to participate in so many queer and trans panels, interviews, consultations, focus groups, and international days, all the ad hoc demands of the minority in the workplace, is he being asked to draw on lived or professional experience? And why are so many of these things, which take up so much time and seem to be foregone conclusions, unpaid? Read more on my blog.
September 30, 2024
I read a review of this a few months ago in Readings Monthly and knew I had to read it, but truth be told, it was the cover that really piqued my interest. I think it may well go down as my favourite book cover this year. As a cisgender woman (and ally to LGBTIQA communities) who studied law and spent four decades living in Melbourne, there was so much to love about this brave memoir. It's both an insightful critique of community legal centres (underfunded, understaffed and overworked, always) and a moving tale of Sam's transition. I learnt so much; highly recommended.
August 4, 2025
so SO cool!
got to read in a day because I now have a wifey working to take care of her house spouse <3
I think this felt so special in part because I know and growing to love this city and all the queers and that makes me quite proud. I think his experiences made me inspired get more involved in the nitty-gritty of my communities (should i become a lawyer?? ugh, sorry i hate that i'm saying that), but it also made fun of how silly, yet all consuming the nitty-gritty can feel which I loved and i love nothing more than making light of our (my transmasc) earnestness.
got to read in a day because I now have a wifey working to take care of her house spouse <3
I think this felt so special in part because I know and growing to love this city and all the queers and that makes me quite proud. I think his experiences made me inspired get more involved in the nitty-gritty of my communities (should i become a lawyer?? ugh, sorry i hate that i'm saying that), but it also made fun of how silly, yet all consuming the nitty-gritty can feel which I loved and i love nothing more than making light of our (my transmasc) earnestness.
July 18, 2024
This book was a pleasure to read in part because of the down-to-earth nature of Sam's voice as he navigates his queer legal saga interleaved with his transition and trying to work out what that means for him and his life. As the mum of a LGBTQI, neurodiverse child, I felt grateful for the personal insights of Sam's personal experience that he has shared with such a generous spirit. It is also a well-written, good read, which I'm most interested in when it comes to memoir.
May 25, 2024
A great read. Really interesting insights into the world of queer advocacy and community law and what it's like to navigate a life where your personal and professional worlds are so intertwined. This book felt like listening to a clever & funny friend telling you stories about their life over a cuppa.
February 8, 2026
I read this one almost straight through. It's incredibly readable and very frank about the challenges of working in the not-for-profit community sector. I'd recommend this book for anyone interested in community sector work, queer advocacy and the unique stressors that an arise when you're advocating for your own community.
March 30, 2025
Sam, what a terrific book. Thank you for sharing your trials and tribulations.
As the step-parent of a transitioning young person, this really helped me better understand their experience.
And as someone who lives good writing, this had been drawn in from the opening page.
As the step-parent of a transitioning young person, this really helped me better understand their experience.
And as someone who lives good writing, this had been drawn in from the opening page.
April 28, 2024
Finally a funny book about being a trans guy. Surprisingly informative.
May 30, 2024
Refreshingly sceptical! This just in - you can tell it how it is without sounding like an arsehole idiot??
June 12, 2024
St kilda core
August 17, 2024
I really enjoyed this book! But most importantly learnt a lot about the trans experience in Australia. The legal content was interesting and insightful
March 7, 2025
I enjoyed Sam’s dry sense of humour and direct writing style, his memoir is both touching and insightful.
April 1, 2025
Devoured in half a day sitting in a bean bag at Merri-Bek libraries. Excellent - I recommend especially to fellow Melbourne naarm people who have ever worked at lgbtiq organisations.
July 1, 2024
This book documents Sam's transition, juxtaposed against the frustrations and joys of trying to help queers navigate the legal system. Absolutely a must-read for those who want to understand how far there is to go, or those who just want to own the best cover design of all time.
"There was something I found unsavoury about all this misery making. I wished that there was a way to plead for special rights on the basis of being particularly amazing."
"There was something I found unsavoury about all this misery making. I wished that there was a way to plead for special rights on the basis of being particularly amazing."
June 26, 2024
Detachable Penis is a fascinating insight into the set up and running of Victoria's first LGBQTIA+_ legal service and the personal story of pioneer lawyer Sam Elkin.
Sam's story of transition from female to male made me laugh, it made me cry but most of all it made me think.
The government funded 2 year legal centre set up in Saint Kilda by Sam, soon showed a myriad of unique problems that befell this community. From housing/tenancy issues to clear cases of discrimination to name but two.
Sam, being one of the small number of transgender community leaders prepared to fight for his cause on almost every issue was dealing with the internal rivalry and competition for funding between the various LGBQTIA+ organisations along with an enormous caseload of his own clients on a daily basis. Eventually trying to be all things to all people at work along with the hormonal and emotional changes occurring in his body became too much, and after 2 years he stepped away completely burnt out
Sam describes his own very personal journey from a gay female to a trans male in a compelling tale which is at times excruciating and which highlights the ridiculous amount hoops he had to jump through to further his progress through the system toward surgery and transition.
This book was revelation to me, a cisgendered, straight woman, old enough to be Sam's mother. My empathy towards anyone trying to live an authentic life for themselves with all the barriers and hurdles they face, is enormous.
Detachable Penis should be compulsory reading for all those ignorant people who have objections and prejudices towards a very small minority of people whose desire to be who they need to be affects no-one but themselves.
Sam's story of transition from female to male made me laugh, it made me cry but most of all it made me think.
The government funded 2 year legal centre set up in Saint Kilda by Sam, soon showed a myriad of unique problems that befell this community. From housing/tenancy issues to clear cases of discrimination to name but two.
Sam, being one of the small number of transgender community leaders prepared to fight for his cause on almost every issue was dealing with the internal rivalry and competition for funding between the various LGBQTIA+ organisations along with an enormous caseload of his own clients on a daily basis. Eventually trying to be all things to all people at work along with the hormonal and emotional changes occurring in his body became too much, and after 2 years he stepped away completely burnt out
Sam describes his own very personal journey from a gay female to a trans male in a compelling tale which is at times excruciating and which highlights the ridiculous amount hoops he had to jump through to further his progress through the system toward surgery and transition.
This book was revelation to me, a cisgendered, straight woman, old enough to be Sam's mother. My empathy towards anyone trying to live an authentic life for themselves with all the barriers and hurdles they face, is enormous.
Detachable Penis should be compulsory reading for all those ignorant people who have objections and prejudices towards a very small minority of people whose desire to be who they need to be affects no-one but themselves.
Read
February 21, 2026A perfectly serviceable memoir. Sadly the title left me a little disappointed. A book with the subhead “legal saga” I was hoping for some more in depth legalese. Rather there are mostly a collection of short legal consultative passages in between a heartwarming story of transition.
3.5 🌈
3.5 🌈
March 8, 2025
Well worth a read.
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews