"I got in touch with a support group [for intersex people] when I was eighteen. They agreed to send me some information. … A big, brown envelope arrived, and I … opened it in private and read through it. I was … partly relieved in that I now knew what my condition was exactly, and why I'd had the surgery, and that it was an intersex condition. [But I was] … shocked and … horrified that nobody had had the decency to tell me about it as I was growing up. … The doctors decided not to tell me or my parents that it was an intersex condition, because they [thought] that [I would] grow up psychologically unbalanced and unable to cope with the [knowledge]. … The clitorectomy … cut the nerve endings out of the clitoris, [and] some of the erectile tissue; but most of it was left tied back onto the skin to the pubic bone. … [I]f I get aroused, it tightens up and pulls away from that bone and causes … excruciating pain. That's something I'm left with for the rest of my life; there's nothing that can be done about that."