Briel Adams-Wheatley was born with no limbs, abandoned in a Brazilian hospital, and then spent years delivering a motivational speech written by someone else — until she came out as trans and finally started living as herself.
We Need To Talk with Paul C. Brunson
Briel Adams-Wheatley was born with no limbs, abandoned in a Brazilian hospital, and then spent years delivering a motivational speech written by someone else — until she came out as trans and finally started living as herself.
TL;DR
Briel Adams-Wheatley, born with no arms or legs due to Hanhart syndrome, was adopted from Brazil into a large Mormon family who raised her with fierce independence but also immense pressure to be a public face of inspiration [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's birth mother left her in a Brazilian hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. A Mormon family in Utah, already expecting th…" 02:20 . She spent years delivering a motivational speech written by her father to audiences of thousands [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel delivered a scripted fall-and-rise speech written by her father and another person to audiences across the country, sometimes as larg…" 47:42 , performing happiness while privately suppressing her gay and later trans identity. Briel walks through coming out in stages — gay at 20, non-binary at 22, trans at 23 — and finding genuine safety for the first time in her relationship with husband Adam [3] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coff…" 1:10:25 . The key takeaway: performing for others is a survival mechanism, but authenticity, even when hard-won, is the only foundation for real freedom.
Briel Adams-Wheatley, content creator and advocate, opens up about being born with no arms and no legs, being left in hospital by her birth mother, and growing up in a large Mormon family where her story was often treated as a miracle. She reflects on the pressure to be strong from a young age, being bullied, pushed harder than her siblings, and learning to perform happiness while privately struggling. Briel also shares how she was set up to inspire others through public speaking, even when the words she delivered were written by someone else. In this conversation, Briel speaks candidly about coming out, feeling used by the church, the conflict between faith and identity, and the moment she told her family: 'You're not God, you don't get to damn me.' She also opens up about dating after trauma, finding safety with her husband Adam, and why they are getting married again after her transition.
The episode opens with a Plan B contraception advertisement, followed immediately by a tightly edited teaser that drops the listener into Briel's world without preamble. Her birth mother leaving her in a hospital, an adoption lady on a plane, the Mormon Church's plan for her public image, and the first sparks of her trans identity are all compressed into under two minutes. The sequence ends on the question that hangs over the whole conversation: what does it look like to be a trans woman in the United States today? It's a masterful piece of preview editing — emotional, specific, and designed to leave no room for the listener to scroll away.
Briel's story begins in Brazil, where her birth mother, overwhelmed by four existing children and the discovery of a secret second family her partner had maintained, left newborn Briel in the hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. What follows is a story that feels almost scripted by fate: a Utah Mormon family, already nine months pregnant with their 11th biological child and living on a seminary teacher's income, was introduced to Briel's existence through another adoption happening on the same plane. The adoptive mother couldn't let go of the idea. The father prayed at the Mormon temple and reported a vision of Briel and his unborn child growing up as best friends. The adoption agency rejected the family outright — then, a week later, an entire boardroom fell silent and reversed the decision, agreeing that a family of 11 loving siblings was exactly what a nine-month-old who'd only known nurse rounds could need. American Airlines, moved by the national news coverage, flew Briel to her new family at no cost. The reception was filmed, tearful, and full. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's birth mother left her in a Brazilian hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. A Mormon family in Utah, already expecting th…" 02:20
Briel's story begins in Brazil, where her birth mother, overwhelmed by four existing children and the discovery of a secret second family her partner had maintained, left newborn Briel in the hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. What follows is a story that feels almost scripted by fate: a Utah Mormon family, already nine months pregnant with their 11th biological child and living on a seminary teacher's income, was introduced to Briel's existence through another adoption happening on the same plane. The adoptive mother couldn't let go of the idea. The father prayed at the Mormon temple and reported a vision of Briel and his unborn child growing up as best friends. The adoption agency rejected the family outright — then, a week later, an entire boardroom fell silent and reversed the decision, agreeing that a family of 11 loving siblings was exactly what a nine-month-old who'd only known nurse rounds could need. American Airlines, moved by the national news coverage, flew Briel to her new family at no cost. The reception was filmed, tearful, and full. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's birth mother left her in a Brazilian hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. A Mormon family in Utah, already expecting th…" 02:20
From the age of around six or seven, Briel's mornings began not with breakfast but with a physical trial: 20 trips up and down the stairs, within 20 minutes, before school. Her mother's logic was stark — there won't always be someone in the room, so you must be able to do it yourself. Briel resented it. She would lie when her mother wasn't watching, say she'd done it, then get caught by the inconsistency in her times. The lectures that followed are so effectively blocked from memory that Briel can't recall their content — just the feeling. She describes learning to slide down on her stomach, angling her body to break at each stair, and going up alternating sides. The outcome of all this grim morning effort is visible today: Briel is so independent that now, when she visits her mother's house, her mother offers to help and Briel refuses — pointing out that she was the one who insisted on this in the first place. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
From the age of around six or seven, Briel's mornings began not with breakfast but with a physical trial: 20 trips up and down the stairs, within 20 minutes, before school. Her mother's logic was stark — there won't always be someone in the room, so you must be able to do it yourself. Briel resented it. She would lie when her mother wasn't watching, say she'd done it, then get caught by the inconsistency in her times. The lectures that followed are so effectively blocked from memory that Briel can't recall their content — just the feeling. She describes learning to slide down on her stomach, angling her body to break at each stair, and going up alternating sides. The outcome of all this grim morning effort is visible today: Briel is so independent that now, when she visits her mother's house, her mother offers to help and Briel refuses — pointing out that she was the one who insisted on this in the first place. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
By second grade, 8 years old, Briel had already identified something essential about herself: she felt more connected to her sisters' world than her brothers', was exclusively friends with girls at school, and understood she was attracted to boys. When she told her two older sisters 'I think I like boys,' their reaction was essentially a shrug — 'duh' — followed by a warning: you can't do anything about it because the parents aren't okay with it. And so began a long double life. Briel confided her crushes to her sisters in private while keeping everything carefully hidden from the rest of the family. She was caught with a boyfriend in 7th grade and lectured; the discovery led to a firm instruction to stop acting on it. The Mormon household was not a hostile environment exactly — her siblings mostly seemed to know and accept it privately — but her parents engaged in a kind of wilful not-knowing that would persist for years. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel knew she liked boys in second grade at age 8. She confided in her older sisters, who confirmed they knew but warned her the parents w…" 22:05
There is a specific kind of pressure that comes with being publicly cast as someone else's miracle. Briel was placed on a speaking circuit by the church from a young age — youth camps, firesides, Relief Society, Young Men and Young Women events — tasked with sharing a story of faith, healing, and inspiration. She was, in essence, the church's poster child. But the story she was being asked to perform was not quite the one she was actually living. She went home from those stages to siblings who told her bluntly: 'You're not that special. You're just like everybody else.' No one who put her on a pedestal in public asked what it felt like to step off it.
Paul asks Briel to name the good parts of growing up, and she doesn't have to reach very far. Having a visible disability unlocked doors: free gifts, invitations to exclusive events, front-row access — experiences her siblings sometimes benefited from too. But the most meaningful good part was her brother Landon, the sibling closest in age. He was the only brother who stood up for her when other kids were cruel, the one who went to parties so she wouldn't have to go alone. Briel acknowledges, with evident guilt, that he spent years living in her shadow — and she feels that cost even now. It's a small but telling window into the complexity of growing up disabled and adopted in a family of 14: love and resentment and loyalty running simultaneously, no one quite getting the story entirely right.
Two of the episode's most vivid setpieces arrive here in quick succession. First: Briel's father, arriving at the pool one day, simply threw her in. She sank. He jumped in. And then, over two and a half years of summer sessions, they worked through floating, rolling underwater, and propelling herself forward in a dolphin motion. Paul admits he doesn't know how to feel about that method as a parent, even while acknowledging the results — Briel is, by his wife's assessment after watching a video, a better swimmer than he is. Second: a 7th-grade talent show flyer sparks an idea. Briel choreographs something to 'Apologize' in her head, shows it to her mother, and receives the most useful brutal honesty of her life: 'That was the worst thing I've ever seen.' Her mother, a trained dancer, refuses to let her be applauded just for being disabled. They rebuild the dance from scratch. At the performance, her mother sits at the very front of the crowd, mouthing the moves, making sure Briel doesn't miss a step. When it's over, she gets a standing ovation — and seeing her mother's face makes it worth everything. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You don't want people to applaud you just because you're handicapped. You want them to stand up and applaud you because you actually put in…" 34:25 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
Two of the episode's most vivid setpieces arrive here in quick succession. First: Briel's father, arriving at the pool one day, simply threw her in. She sank. He jumped in. And then, over two and a half years of summer sessions, they worked through floating, rolling underwater, and propelling herself forward in a dolphin motion. Paul admits he doesn't know how to feel about that method as a parent, even while acknowledging the results — Briel is, by his wife's assessment after watching a video, a better swimmer than he is. Second: a 7th-grade talent show flyer sparks an idea. Briel choreographs something to 'Apologize' in her head, shows it to her mother, and receives the most useful brutal honesty of her life: 'That was the worst thing I've ever seen.' Her mother, a trained dancer, refuses to let her be applauded just for being disabled. They rebuild the dance from scratch. At the performance, her mother sits at the very front of the crowd, mouthing the moves, making sure Briel doesn't miss a step. When it's over, she gets a standing ovation — and seeing her mother's face makes it worth everything. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You don't want people to applaud you just because you're handicapped. You want them to stand up and applaud you because you actually put in…" 34:25 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
Asked to characterise her relationship with her adoptive mother now, Briel gives a measured and generous portrait. She describes her as one of the best people on earth — a woman who had 13 biological children and an adopted one with significant needs, somehow made every child feel seen, and did it all on a modest income. But beneath the praise sits a question Briel can't fully answer: does her mother approve of the person she became? Briel suspects that by walking away from the church, coming out, and transitioning, she gave her mother 'a huge slap in the face' — a departure from the future her parents had built their public image around. The uncertainty is quiet but real.
It's one of the most emotionally charged moments in the episode. Paul tells Briel he has a letter from her mother, which he has not yet read. He reads it live. The letter is specific, generous, and raw in its love: her mother writes that even before Briel arrived, something told her what this child could become. She describes Briel's generosity in forgiving those who lash out at her, her refusal to be limited by anyone's idea of what she can do, and her ability — entirely unanticipated — to reach millions of people through social media. 'I had no idea millions of people would watch you, be inspired by you, and learn from you every single day,' she writes. The letter ends: 'Keep inspiring me. I love you.' Briel says it was 'cute' through barely suppressed tears. The reveal answers the question she couldn't answer herself: yes, her mother is proud. [1] — Paul C. Brunson "Host Paul surprises Briel by reading a letter written by her adoptive mother on camera. The letter praises Briel's courage, forgiveness, an…" 37:37
Paul takes a moment to try Huel's new Lite Ramen product on camera, describing it as unexpectedly good — light but filling, with 25g of protein, 26 vitamins and minerals, and under 230 calories per pot. He notes that as a regular Huel drinker, he trusted the brand to deliver on a healthy noodle where others have failed. New customers can get £10 off at uk.huel.com/wntt with code WNTT, with the offer valid for 30 days.
The coming-out moment arrives not as a planned conversation but as an eruption. Briel leaves church early, her mother whispers in her ear to pray about it, and something breaks. On the walk home, she sends a text that lays everything out: I'm gay, I've always been gay, you know I'm gay, I'm done hiding it. If you want a relationship with me after I move out, that's your choice. Also: you're not God. You don't get to damn me anywhere. Sign off: 'Live, laugh, love you.' Her mother comes home sobbing. The next morning she enters Briel's room, apologises, and pledges to attend her wedding if she marries a man, to welcome her children, to stay in her life. Her father follows 10 to 15 minutes later with a similar speech — he doesn't fully understand, but he wants to. He later gives a speech at her wedding, a gesture that splits Briel's siblings but that she receives as the most important thing: he showed up. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You're not God. You don't get to damn me anywhere. He will do that at my last days, not you. Live, laugh, love you." 43:57
The motivational speaking career comes into sharper and more unsettling focus here. Briel describes the mechanics of the act: a scripted fall-and-rise speech (literally — she falls over at the start), written by her father and a collaborator, delivered to audiences of thousands. She would black out the moment the curtain opened, perform, come offstage hyperventilating, and immediately switch back on for the meet and greet. Dancing was the only part of the performance that was truly hers — she fought to include it and found it the only honest moment in the show. Then, at a conference in San Diego in front of 10,000 people, a man whispered in her ear: 'I feel like you're not being honest about something.' That sentence did what years of internal suppression hadn't: it ended her relationship with public speaking. She could feel the mask slipping. And she knew it was only a matter of time before everyone else could too. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel delivered a scripted fall-and-rise speech written by her father and another person to audiences across the country, sometimes as larg…" 47:42 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "The mask is slipping. They know. They know." 49:24
Briel never set out to be an influencer. She posted the first video at her sister's urging during the Music.ly era, uploaded on Halloween night as a throwaway, and woke up to 1 million views. Dancing videos followed. Then, merging two passions — makeup and performance — she started making 'get ready with me' clips framed from the chest up, as other creators were doing, without initially revealing she had no limbs. Commenters flooded in asking why she wasn't using her hands. The reveal became its own viral moment. From there, the growth compounded. By the time of recording, she has 9 million followers across platforms and a single brand video of her washing her hair has cleared 130 million views. She doesn't call herself an influencer. She says she's still a motivational speaker — just on her own terms, in her own voice, telling her own story. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel posted her first video on Halloween on what was then called Music.ly on a whim, at her sister's urging, and had 1 million views by mi…" 54:00
Paul uses the Shopify ad slot to address a familiar frustration: brilliant ideas stalling because the technical setup of an online store feels overwhelming. Shopify, he explains, handles payments, inventory, orders, returns, and shipping calculations, while its built-in AI tools write product descriptions, draft email campaigns, and schedule social posts. No developer required. The £1/month trial is available at shopify.co.uk/needtotalk.
The coming-out-as-trans moment is handled with characteristic Briel efficiency: no individual conversations, no staged family sit-downs. She had already been wearing wigs and dresses in her content; she had told Adam the year before; and she had spent years methodically moving people along a staged journey from gay to non-binary to trans. When the moment came, she used a trending audio clip — 'this is a story of a boy' scratching out into 'this is a story of a girl' — and posted it simultaneously to all platforms. Within ten minutes, news articles had published. Her family group chat erupted. The public reaction focused mainly on what physical steps she would take: surgery, hormones, hair. She started hormone therapy and, nearly three years later, describes a mental clarity and sense of self that makes the person she was before feel genuinely alien. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Rather than telling people individually, Briel used a trending sound clip that transitioned from 'a story of a boy' to 'a story of a girl' …" 1:04:20
This is the episode's most quietly devastating chapter. Briel's first boyfriend was in 7th grade; the relationship ended in sexual assault by a friend at their house. Determined to avoid physical proximity, she moved her dating life entirely online — but the online world provided only the illusion of safety. When she moved to St. George for junior year, an older man she had been talking to online suggested they meet, she went despite her hesitation, and the assault happened again. It happened again after that, and again. By the time she downloaded Tinder and matched with Adam, she was still cycling through online relationships with the same goal: to be close to someone without being physically vulnerable. The transition from that pattern to a real relationship with a kind man proved harder than she expected — his good behaviour was, in itself, destabilising. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coff…" 1:10:25
The contrast between Adam and every man before him is established in the opening minutes of their first date. He wanted to go to a public coffee shop — 'I want people to see I'm on a date with you.' He met her family without being pushed, played with the children, and said he wouldn't do anything for her unless she asked what she needed. When Briel later wore a bold makeup look he didn't personally like, he heard her response — 'this is my face, not yours' — and immediately conceded, telling her that if it made her feel confident, he was on board. That single moment, she says, told her he would always have her back even when he disagreed. The road wasn't perfectly smooth: after two weeks she asked for a break because she was so unused to being treated with basic respect that she didn't know how to process it. Her mother and sister-in-law overruled her. She and Adam got engaged nine months later. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coff…" 1:10:25 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "I need a break from you. I need to go do some soul searching with myself on why I have a problem with you treating me so kindly, because I'…" 1:11:37
The episode's second letter moment is even more emotionally specific than the first. Adam writes that falling in love with Briel was the best experience of his life, and watching the world fall in love with her too is the second best. He describes the real strength she has shown him — 'not the loud kind, but the everyday kind' — the courage to be vulnerable, to reinvent yourself, to walk into rooms without apologising. He says the moments that mean most to him are the private ones: the late-night reality TV, the boring routines nobody else sees. He signs off by calling her 'Rat Boy' — her nickname for him, derived from calling their dogs 'Rat Girls.' Briel says it was 'really cute.' Three weeks from the recording date, the two are remarrying so she can be her full self at the altar — in a dress, walking down the aisle, déjà vu but finally complete. [1] — Paul C. Brunson "Adam's letter to Briel, read on camera by Paul, describes watching the world fall in love with her and feeling lucky to have the whole her.…" 1:19:11
Briel's relationship with Mormonism is complicated and she handles it carefully. She left at 19 — not because she has a problem with the church, she says, but because the church has a problem with her. She maintains a civil distance: attending family milestones, showing up for baptisms and weddings, but not as a participant in the faith. What she hasn't let go is her belief that she chose this life. A patriarchal blessing she received within the LDS system told her, she says, that before she came to earth she was fully aware of the body and trials she was signing up for, and she said yes anyway. That theology of pre-earthly consent has stayed with her as a framework for understanding everything that came after it.
Briel's relationship with Mormonism is complicated and she handles it carefully. She left at 19 — not because she has a problem with the church, she says, but because the church has a problem with her. She maintains a civil distance: attending family milestones, showing up for baptisms and weddings, but not as a participant in the faith. What she hasn't let go is her belief that she chose this life. A patriarchal blessing she received within the LDS system told her, she says, that before she came to earth she was fully aware of the body and trials she was signing up for, and she said yes anyway. That theology of pre-earthly consent has stayed with her as a framework for understanding everything that came after it.
Paul connects Briel's experience to a wider pattern he's observed: a sense that social progress, which once seemed inevitable, has reversed in ways that are hard to believe. Briel doesn't minimise it. She describes the current climate as genuinely unsafe and not enjoyable for anyone in any community — a moment where the only path forward is collective solidarity across difference. But she doesn't give up. She believes any rock-bottom moment in history is a precondition for the next rise. She wants to bring children into the world; she just doesn't want to do it while it looks like this. Her advice to anyone questioning gender identity is direct and warm: find one person you can confide in, because this is not something you should carry alone. And if there's no one: there are organisations and communities that are ready to hear you. You are not the only person who has ever felt exactly this way. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You're not alone. I know you get in your head and you think that you're the only one that feels this way, but you're not. There's so many o…" 1:30:30
Paul connects Briel's experience to a wider pattern he's observed: a sense that social progress, which once seemed inevitable, has reversed in ways that are hard to believe. Briel doesn't minimise it. She describes the current climate as genuinely unsafe and not enjoyable for anyone in any community — a moment where the only path forward is collective solidarity across difference. But she doesn't give up. She believes any rock-bottom moment in history is a precondition for the next rise. She wants to bring children into the world; she just doesn't want to do it while it looks like this. Her advice to anyone questioning gender identity is direct and warm: find one person you can confide in, because this is not something you should carry alone. And if there's no one: there are organisations and communities that are ready to hear you. You are not the only person who has ever felt exactly this way. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You're not alone. I know you get in your head and you think that you're the only one that feels this way, but you're not. There's so many o…" 1:30:30
Asked which conversation has stood out most in her life, Briel doesn't point to a stage or a grand public moment. She points to a recurring one with her husband: what would you do if I died? Adam's answer is that he'd have her turned into a diamond necklace and wear her every day. It's romantic in the most precise, specific sense — and it illustrates the lesson she offers: keep having the hard conversations, because they're what make relationships strong and love durable. Paul closes the episode with his own takeaway, referencing a previous conversation with Dr. Amir Levine on attachment theory, noting that a secure partner heals us — and seeing in Briel and Adam's story a living example of exactly that. Adam, he notes, drove ten hours from Salt Lake City for this conversation, and will drive ten hours back. That, Paul says, is what love looks like as a verb.
Asked which conversation has stood out most in her life, Briel doesn't point to a stage or a grand public moment. She points to a recurring one with her husband: what would you do if I died? Adam's answer is that he'd have her turned into a diamond necklace and wear her every day. It's romantic in the most precise, specific sense — and it illustrates the lesson she offers: keep having the hard conversations, because they're what make relationships strong and love durable. Paul closes the episode with his own takeaway, referencing a previous conversation with Dr. Amir Levine on attachment theory, noting that a secure partner heals us — and seeing in Briel and Adam's story a living example of exactly that. Adam, he notes, drove ten hours from Salt Lake City for this conversation, and will drive ten hours back. That, Paul says, is what love looks like as a verb.
Chapter 2 · 01:46
Briel's story begins in Brazil, where her birth mother, overwhelmed by four existing children and the discovery of a secret second family her partner had maintained, left newborn Briel in the hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. What follows is a story that feels almost scripted by fate: a Utah Mormon family, already nine months pregnant with their 11th biological child and living on a seminary teacher's income, was introduced to Briel's existence through another adoption happening on the same plane. The adoptive mother couldn't let go of the idea. The father prayed at the Mormon temple and reported a vision of Briel and his unborn child growing up as best friends. The adoption agency rejected the family outright — then, a week later, an entire boardroom fell silent and reversed the decision, agreeing that a family of 11 loving siblings was exactly what a nine-month-old who'd only known nurse rounds could need. American Airlines, moved by the national news coverage, flew Briel to her new family at no cost. The reception was filmed, tearful, and full. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's birth mother left her in a Brazilian hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. A Mormon family in Utah, already expecting th…" 02:20
Briel's birth mother left her in a Brazilian hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. A Mormon family in Utah, already expecting their 11th biological child, eventually adopted her after the adoption agency laughed at the idea — then reversed course in a boardroom moment of collective conviction.
Chapter 3 · 04:39
Briel's story begins in Brazil, where her birth mother, overwhelmed by four existing children and the discovery of a secret second family her partner had maintained, left newborn Briel in the hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. What follows is a story that feels almost scripted by fate: a Utah Mormon family, already nine months pregnant with their 11th biological child and living on a seminary teacher's income, was introduced to Briel's existence through another adoption happening on the same plane. The adoptive mother couldn't let go of the idea. The father prayed at the Mormon temple and reported a vision of Briel and his unborn child growing up as best friends. The adoption agency rejected the family outright — then, a week later, an entire boardroom fell silent and reversed the decision, agreeing that a family of 11 loving siblings was exactly what a nine-month-old who'd only known nurse rounds could need. American Airlines, moved by the national news coverage, flew Briel to her new family at no cost. The reception was filmed, tearful, and full. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's birth mother left her in a Brazilian hospital after learning she had no arms or legs. A Mormon family in Utah, already expecting th…" 02:20
Claims made here
Hanhart syndrome affects approximately 1 in 1 million people in the United States and can impact limbs, fingers, toes, or the jaw.
Between the mid-1930s and the 1990s, only 30 recorded incidents of Hanhart syndrome existed worldwide.
Briel's head began to misshape during her first nine months in the hospital because she only received attention during nurse rounds, causing her to focus constantly on the hallway window.
Briel's adoptive parents had 13 biological children of their own, in addition to adopting Briel, on a seminary teacher's income.
American Airlines offered to fly Briel's adoptive parents anywhere in the world to facilitate the adoption after the story was covered on national television.
Hanhart syndrome is a birth defect affecting 1 in 1 million people, impacting limbs, fingers, toes, or sometimes the jaw. For Briel, it affected all four limbs and caused a cleft palate. Between the 1930s and 1990s, only 30 cases were ever recorded.
Hanhart syndrome, the birth defect Briel was born with affecting all four limbs, occurs in approximately 1 in 1 million people in the United States.
Between the mid-1930s and the 1990s, only 30 incidents of Hanhart syndrome were recorded, illustrating how extraordinarily rare the condition is.
Briel's adoptive parents had 13 biological children of their own, yet still chose to adopt Briel, who has a significant physical disability.
Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When she lied about completing it, her mother caught her by timing inconsistencies. The training instilled independence that now makes Briel refuse help even when her mother offers it.
Chapter 4 · 10:49
From the age of around six or seven, Briel's mornings began not with breakfast but with a physical trial: 20 trips up and down the stairs, within 20 minutes, before school. Her mother's logic was stark — there won't always be someone in the room, so you must be able to do it yourself. Briel resented it. She would lie when her mother wasn't watching, say she'd done it, then get caught by the inconsistency in her times. The lectures that followed are so effectively blocked from memory that Briel can't recall their content — just the feeling. She describes learning to slide down on her stomach, angling her body to break at each stair, and going up alternating sides. The outcome of all this grim morning effort is visible today: Briel is so independent that now, when she visits her mother's house, her mother offers to help and Briel refuses — pointing out that she was the one who insisted on this in the first place. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
Claims made here
Briel was required to traverse the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning as a physical independence exercise set by her adoptive mother.
As a child, Briel was required to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning as her household chore, a physical independence training regime set by her adoptive mother.
Chapter 5 · 14:26
From the age of around six or seven, Briel's mornings began not with breakfast but with a physical trial: 20 trips up and down the stairs, within 20 minutes, before school. Her mother's logic was stark — there won't always be someone in the room, so you must be able to do it yourself. Briel resented it. She would lie when her mother wasn't watching, say she'd done it, then get caught by the inconsistency in her times. The lectures that followed are so effectively blocked from memory that Briel can't recall their content — just the feeling. She describes learning to slide down on her stomach, angling her body to break at each stair, and going up alternating sides. The outcome of all this grim morning effort is visible today: Briel is so independent that now, when she visits her mother's house, her mother offers to help and Briel refuses — pointing out that she was the one who insisted on this in the first place. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
Bullied by brothers for being adopted, mocked at school for her wheelchair and black pants, Briel never talked to anyone about it. She felt she was already taking too much of her parents' time for physical needs to add emotional ones. She kept conversations to herself — literally talking to her reflection.
Briel suppressed her identity due to religious pressure and family expectations from childhood until age 23, when she came out as trans and began to live authentically.
Chapter 6 · 21:29
By second grade, 8 years old, Briel had already identified something essential about herself: she felt more connected to her sisters' world than her brothers', was exclusively friends with girls at school, and understood she was attracted to boys. When she told her two older sisters 'I think I like boys,' their reaction was essentially a shrug — 'duh' — followed by a warning: you can't do anything about it because the parents aren't okay with it. And so began a long double life. Briel confided her crushes to her sisters in private while keeping everything carefully hidden from the rest of the family. She was caught with a boyfriend in 7th grade and lectured; the discovery led to a firm instruction to stop acting on it. The Mormon household was not a hostile environment exactly — her siblings mostly seemed to know and accept it privately — but her parents engaged in a kind of wilful not-knowing that would persist for years. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel knew she liked boys in second grade at age 8. She confided in her older sisters, who confirmed they knew but warned her the parents w…" 22:05
Briel knew she liked boys in second grade at age 8. She confided in her older sisters, who confirmed they knew but warned her the parents weren't okay with it. She was caught with a boyfriend in 7th grade and received a lecture. The secret lived underground for years inside a Mormon household.
Chapter 7 · 25:42
There is a specific kind of pressure that comes with being publicly cast as someone else's miracle. Briel was placed on a speaking circuit by the church from a young age — youth camps, firesides, Relief Society, Young Men and Young Women events — tasked with sharing a story of faith, healing, and inspiration. She was, in essence, the church's poster child. But the story she was being asked to perform was not quite the one she was actually living. She went home from those stages to siblings who told her bluntly: 'You're not that special. You're just like everybody else.' No one who put her on a pedestal in public asked what it felt like to step off it.
Briel was put on a speaking circuit through youth camps, firesides, and church events from a young age to serve as the face of Mormon inspiration. She was simultaneously bullied at home and school. Her siblings told her she wasn't special — yet she was placed on a public pedestal.
Chapter 9 · 30:06
Two of the episode's most vivid setpieces arrive here in quick succession. First: Briel's father, arriving at the pool one day, simply threw her in. She sank. He jumped in. And then, over two and a half years of summer sessions, they worked through floating, rolling underwater, and propelling herself forward in a dolphin motion. Paul admits he doesn't know how to feel about that method as a parent, even while acknowledging the results — Briel is, by his wife's assessment after watching a video, a better swimmer than he is. Second: a 7th-grade talent show flyer sparks an idea. Briel choreographs something to 'Apologize' in her head, shows it to her mother, and receives the most useful brutal honesty of her life: 'That was the worst thing I've ever seen.' Her mother, a trained dancer, refuses to let her be applauded just for being disabled. They rebuild the dance from scratch. At the performance, her mother sits at the very front of the crowd, mouthing the moves, making sure Briel doesn't miss a step. When it's over, she gets a standing ovation — and seeing her mother's face makes it worth everything. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You don't want people to applaud you just because you're handicapped. You want them to stand up and applaud you because you actually put in…" 34:25 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
Chapter 10 · 32:34
Two of the episode's most vivid setpieces arrive here in quick succession. First: Briel's father, arriving at the pool one day, simply threw her in. She sank. He jumped in. And then, over two and a half years of summer sessions, they worked through floating, rolling underwater, and propelling herself forward in a dolphin motion. Paul admits he doesn't know how to feel about that method as a parent, even while acknowledging the results — Briel is, by his wife's assessment after watching a video, a better swimmer than he is. Second: a 7th-grade talent show flyer sparks an idea. Briel choreographs something to 'Apologize' in her head, shows it to her mother, and receives the most useful brutal honesty of her life: 'That was the worst thing I've ever seen.' Her mother, a trained dancer, refuses to let her be applauded just for being disabled. They rebuild the dance from scratch. At the performance, her mother sits at the very front of the crowd, mouthing the moves, making sure Briel doesn't miss a step. When it's over, she gets a standing ovation — and seeing her mother's face makes it worth everything. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You don't want people to applaud you just because you're handicapped. You want them to stand up and applaud you because you actually put in…" 34:25 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel's adoptive mother required her to go up and down the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning before school and breakfast. When sh…" 10:20
Claims made here
Briel's adoptive mother had a background in dance and choreographed a new dance routine with Briel for her 7th-grade talent show after seeing Briel's first attempt.
Chapter 12 · 37:04
It's one of the most emotionally charged moments in the episode. Paul tells Briel he has a letter from her mother, which he has not yet read. He reads it live. The letter is specific, generous, and raw in its love: her mother writes that even before Briel arrived, something told her what this child could become. She describes Briel's generosity in forgiving those who lash out at her, her refusal to be limited by anyone's idea of what she can do, and her ability — entirely unanticipated — to reach millions of people through social media. 'I had no idea millions of people would watch you, be inspired by you, and learn from you every single day,' she writes. The letter ends: 'Keep inspiring me. I love you.' Briel says it was 'cute' through barely suppressed tears. The reveal answers the question she couldn't answer herself: yes, her mother is proud. [1] — Paul C. Brunson "Host Paul surprises Briel by reading a letter written by her adoptive mother on camera. The letter praises Briel's courage, forgiveness, an…" 37:37
Host Paul surprises Briel by reading a letter written by her adoptive mother on camera. The letter praises Briel's courage, forgiveness, and growth, and reveals that her mother had no idea social media would make Briel's story visible to millions. Briel, holding back tears, says it was 'really cute.'
Chapter 14 · 41:34
The coming-out moment arrives not as a planned conversation but as an eruption. Briel leaves church early, her mother whispers in her ear to pray about it, and something breaks. On the walk home, she sends a text that lays everything out: I'm gay, I've always been gay, you know I'm gay, I'm done hiding it. If you want a relationship with me after I move out, that's your choice. Also: you're not God. You don't get to damn me anywhere. Sign off: 'Live, laugh, love you.' Her mother comes home sobbing. The next morning she enters Briel's room, apologises, and pledges to attend her wedding if she marries a man, to welcome her children, to stay in her life. Her father follows 10 to 15 minutes later with a similar speech — he doesn't fully understand, but he wants to. He later gives a speech at her wedding, a gesture that splits Briel's siblings but that she receives as the most important thing: he showed up. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You're not God. You don't get to damn me anywhere. He will do that at my last days, not you. Live, laugh, love you." 43:57
Briel came out to her mother via text after being asked to 'pray about it' at church. The message was direct: you know I'm gay, I've always been gay, and you're not God — you don't get to damn me. Her mother came home sobbing, and the next morning both parents apologised and pledged to be in her life regardless.
Chapter 15 · 47:18
The motivational speaking career comes into sharper and more unsettling focus here. Briel describes the mechanics of the act: a scripted fall-and-rise speech (literally — she falls over at the start), written by her father and a collaborator, delivered to audiences of thousands. She would black out the moment the curtain opened, perform, come offstage hyperventilating, and immediately switch back on for the meet and greet. Dancing was the only part of the performance that was truly hers — she fought to include it and found it the only honest moment in the show. Then, at a conference in San Diego in front of 10,000 people, a man whispered in her ear: 'I feel like you're not being honest about something.' That sentence did what years of internal suppression hadn't: it ended her relationship with public speaking. She could feel the mask slipping. And she knew it was only a matter of time before everyone else could too. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel delivered a scripted fall-and-rise speech written by her father and another person to audiences across the country, sometimes as larg…" 47:42 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "The mask is slipping. They know. They know." 49:24
Claims made here
Briel gave motivational speeches to audiences of up to 10,000 people, delivering a speech written by her father and another collaborator.
Briel delivered a scripted fall-and-rise speech written by her father and another person to audiences across the country, sometimes as large as 10,000 people. She blacked out every time the curtain opened. A stranger at a San Diego conference whispered that she seemed to be hiding something — and that moment ended her speaking career.
Briel gave a motivational speech at a conference in San Diego attended by 10,000 people, even while suppressing her true identity behind a public persona.
Chapter 16 · 53:54
Briel never set out to be an influencer. She posted the first video at her sister's urging during the Music.ly era, uploaded on Halloween night as a throwaway, and woke up to 1 million views. Dancing videos followed. Then, merging two passions — makeup and performance — she started making 'get ready with me' clips framed from the chest up, as other creators were doing, without initially revealing she had no limbs. Commenters flooded in asking why she wasn't using her hands. The reveal became its own viral moment. From there, the growth compounded. By the time of recording, she has 9 million followers across platforms and a single brand video of her washing her hair has cleared 130 million views. She doesn't call herself an influencer. She says she's still a motivational speaker — just on her own terms, in her own voice, telling her own story. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Briel posted her first video on Halloween on what was then called Music.ly on a whim, at her sister's urging, and had 1 million views by mi…" 54:00
Claims made here
Briel's first video on Music.ly (later TikTok), posted on Halloween, received approximately 1 million views by midnight on the same night.
Briel now has 9 million followers across all social media platforms.
A brand video of Briel washing her hair received over 130 million views.
Briel posted her first video on Halloween on what was then called Music.ly on a whim, at her sister's urging, and had 1 million views by midnight. She never intended to be an influencer. A makeup 'get ready with me' video that accidentally hid her disability sparked even more viral growth, ultimately reaching 9 million followers.
Briel's first-ever video on what was then called Music.ly got approximately 1 million views by midnight on Halloween, launching her unexpected social media career.
Briel now has 9 million followers across all social media platforms, reaching audiences that far exceed the motivational speaking circuits she worked on before COVID.
A brand video of Briel washing her hair received over 130 million views, demonstrating the viral scale of her content without any traditional motivational framing.
Chapter 18 · 59:54
The coming-out-as-trans moment is handled with characteristic Briel efficiency: no individual conversations, no staged family sit-downs. She had already been wearing wigs and dresses in her content; she had told Adam the year before; and she had spent years methodically moving people along a staged journey from gay to non-binary to trans. When the moment came, she used a trending audio clip — 'this is a story of a boy' scratching out into 'this is a story of a girl' — and posted it simultaneously to all platforms. Within ten minutes, news articles had published. Her family group chat erupted. The public reaction focused mainly on what physical steps she would take: surgery, hormones, hair. She started hormone therapy and, nearly three years later, describes a mental clarity and sense of self that makes the person she was before feel genuinely alien. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "Rather than telling people individually, Briel used a trending sound clip that transitioned from 'a story of a boy' to 'a story of a girl' …" 1:04:20
Claims made here
Briel came out as gay at age 20 publicly, as non-binary at 22, and fully as transgender at 23, having disclosed her trans identity to her husband before they married.
Briel came out publicly as gay at 20, then as non-binary at 22, and fully as trans at 23, having strategically staged each step to prepare her family and community.
Rather than telling people individually, Briel used a trending sound clip that transitioned from 'a story of a boy' to 'a story of a girl' to come out as trans simultaneously to her family, friends, and 9 million followers. News articles published within 10 minutes. Her family had already seen it coming through her content.
Nearly three years into hormone therapy, Briel describes a mental clarity she cannot fully explain. When she's on it, she's calmer, more confident, and happier. When she stops, the depression and anger return. For her, hormones aren't a political statement — they're the difference between feeling herself and not.
Chapter 19 · 1:06:01
This is the episode's most quietly devastating chapter. Briel's first boyfriend was in 7th grade; the relationship ended in sexual assault by a friend at their house. Determined to avoid physical proximity, she moved her dating life entirely online — but the online world provided only the illusion of safety. When she moved to St. George for junior year, an older man she had been talking to online suggested they meet, she went despite her hesitation, and the assault happened again. It happened again after that, and again. By the time she downloaded Tinder and matched with Adam, she was still cycling through online relationships with the same goal: to be close to someone without being physically vulnerable. The transition from that pattern to a real relationship with a kind man proved harder than she expected — his good behaviour was, in itself, destabilising. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coff…" 1:10:25
Claims made here
Briel has been on hormone therapy for almost three years and says it has dramatically improved her mental clarity, confidence, and emotional stability.
Briel has been on hormone therapy for almost three years, which she says has profoundly improved her mental clarity, confidence, and emotional wellbeing.
After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coffee in public — 'I want people to see I'm on a date with you.' After two weeks she asked for space because his kindness overwhelmed her. Her family intervened and invited him to dinner.
Chapter 20 · 1:10:47
The contrast between Adam and every man before him is established in the opening minutes of their first date. He wanted to go to a public coffee shop — 'I want people to see I'm on a date with you.' He met her family without being pushed, played with the children, and said he wouldn't do anything for her unless she asked what she needed. When Briel later wore a bold makeup look he didn't personally like, he heard her response — 'this is my face, not yours' — and immediately conceded, telling her that if it made her feel confident, he was on board. That single moment, she says, told her he would always have her back even when he disagreed. The road wasn't perfectly smooth: after two weeks she asked for a break because she was so unused to being treated with basic respect that she didn't know how to process it. Her mother and sister-in-law overruled her. She and Adam got engaged nine months later. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coff…" 1:10:25 [2] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "I need a break from you. I need to go do some soul searching with myself on why I have a problem with you treating me so kindly, because I'…" 1:11:37
Briel and Adam got engaged after 9 months of dating, with Briel noting Adam was 27 at the time — considered a 'very late bloomer' by Utah standards.
Briel and Adam are remarrying three weeks after the recording because Briel transitioned two years into their marriage. The first wedding was before her full transition. This time she walks down the aisle in a dress. 'It's literally going to be déjà vu, but me in a dress this time.'
Chapter 21 · 1:18:25
The episode's second letter moment is even more emotionally specific than the first. Adam writes that falling in love with Briel was the best experience of his life, and watching the world fall in love with her too is the second best. He describes the real strength she has shown him — 'not the loud kind, but the everyday kind' — the courage to be vulnerable, to reinvent yourself, to walk into rooms without apologising. He says the moments that mean most to him are the private ones: the late-night reality TV, the boring routines nobody else sees. He signs off by calling her 'Rat Boy' — her nickname for him, derived from calling their dogs 'Rat Girls.' Briel says it was 'really cute.' Three weeks from the recording date, the two are remarrying so she can be her full self at the altar — in a dress, walking down the aisle, déjà vu but finally complete. [1] — Paul C. Brunson "Adam's letter to Briel, read on camera by Paul, describes watching the world fall in love with her and feeling lucky to have the whole her.…" 1:19:11
Adam's letter to Briel, read on camera by Paul, describes watching the world fall in love with her and feeling lucky to have the whole her. He credits her with teaching him authenticity, louder laughter, and what real strength looks like: not the loud kind, but the everyday kind — the strength to be vulnerable.
Chapter 23 · 1:20:37
Briel's relationship with Mormonism is complicated and she handles it carefully. She left at 19 — not because she has a problem with the church, she says, but because the church has a problem with her. She maintains a civil distance: attending family milestones, showing up for baptisms and weddings, but not as a participant in the faith. What she hasn't let go is her belief that she chose this life. A patriarchal blessing she received within the LDS system told her, she says, that before she came to earth she was fully aware of the body and trials she was signing up for, and she said yes anyway. That theology of pre-earthly consent has stayed with her as a framework for understanding everything that came after it.
Asked about the current political climate for trans people in the US, Briel is honest: it's scary, it's not safe, and nobody is winning. But she still has hope, believing society is at rock bottom and must go up. She refuses to bring children into this world as it currently stands.
Chapter 24 · 1:22:27
Paul connects Briel's experience to a wider pattern he's observed: a sense that social progress, which once seemed inevitable, has reversed in ways that are hard to believe. Briel doesn't minimise it. She describes the current climate as genuinely unsafe and not enjoyable for anyone in any community — a moment where the only path forward is collective solidarity across difference. But she doesn't give up. She believes any rock-bottom moment in history is a precondition for the next rise. She wants to bring children into the world; she just doesn't want to do it while it looks like this. Her advice to anyone questioning gender identity is direct and warm: find one person you can confide in, because this is not something you should carry alone. And if there's no one: there are organisations and communities that are ready to hear you. You are not the only person who has ever felt exactly this way. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You're not alone. I know you get in your head and you think that you're the only one that feels this way, but you're not. There's so many o…" 1:30:30
Chapter 25 · 1:25:21
Paul connects Briel's experience to a wider pattern he's observed: a sense that social progress, which once seemed inevitable, has reversed in ways that are hard to believe. Briel doesn't minimise it. She describes the current climate as genuinely unsafe and not enjoyable for anyone in any community — a moment where the only path forward is collective solidarity across difference. But she doesn't give up. She believes any rock-bottom moment in history is a precondition for the next rise. She wants to bring children into the world; she just doesn't want to do it while it looks like this. Her advice to anyone questioning gender identity is direct and warm: find one person you can confide in, because this is not something you should carry alone. And if there's no one: there are organisations and communities that are ready to hear you. You are not the only person who has ever felt exactly this way. [1] — Briel Adams-Wheatley "You're not alone. I know you get in your head and you think that you're the only one that feels this way, but you're not. There's so many o…" 1:30:30
Chapter 27 · 1:34:37
Asked which conversation has stood out most in her life, Briel doesn't point to a stage or a grand public moment. She points to a recurring one with her husband: what would you do if I died? Adam's answer is that he'd have her turned into a diamond necklace and wear her every day. It's romantic in the most precise, specific sense — and it illustrates the lesson she offers: keep having the hard conversations, because they're what make relationships strong and love durable. Paul closes the episode with his own takeaway, referencing a previous conversation with Dr. Amir Levine on attachment theory, noting that a secure partner heals us — and seeing in Briel and Adam's story a living example of exactly that. Adam, he notes, drove ten hours from Salt Lake City for this conversation, and will drive ten hours back. That, Paul says, is what love looks like as a verb.
Claims made here
Briel's husband Adam drove 10 hours from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles and back so Briel could appear on the podcast.
Briel's husband Adam drove her 10 hours from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles for the podcast recording, and they drove 10 hours back — demonstrating his commitment as a supportive partner.
No indexed bits in this chapter.
Briel came out to her mother via text after being asked to 'pray about it' at church. The message was direct: you know I'm gay, I've always been gay, and you're not God — you don't get to damn me. Her mother came home sobbing, and the next morning both parents apologised and pledged to be in her life regardless.
After being sexually assaulted multiple times and exclusively dating online to feel safe, Briel met Adam on Tinder. His first date was coffee in public — 'I want people to see I'm on a date with you.' After two weeks she asked for space because his kindness overwhelmed her. Her family intervened and invited him to dinner.
This episode
Briel's husband, who met her on Tinder, drove 10 hours for the podcast recording, and is remarrying her in a ceremony so she can walk down the aisle as her full trans self.
Australian singer and swimmer Briel admitted having a long-standing crush on; she noted he had previously appeared on the same podcast.
The faith Briel was raised in, which shaped her identity pressure, public speaking career, and the family's initial rejection of her sexuality before she eventually distanced herself at age 19.
Episode sponsor promoting Huel Lite Ramen, a high-protein instant noodle product.
Episode sponsor offering an e-commerce platform with a £1/month trial for new users in the UK.
Heard about Briel's adoption story from national news coverage and offered to fly her or her parents anywhere in the world to facilitate the adoption at no cost.
UK mental health charity listed as a support resource in the show notes for listeners affected by the discussion of sexual assault.
UK support organisation for survivors of sexual abuse, listed in the show notes as a resource for listeners.
The social media platform where Briel accidentally went viral and built a significant portion of her 9 million followers.
The US state where Briel grew up and where she currently lives in Salt Lake City, predominantly shaped by Mormon culture.
Briel's country of birth, where she was left in a hospital by her birth mother before being adopted by a family in Utah.
The Utah city where Briel grew up and currently lives, a strongly Mormon community.
City where Briel gave a motivational speech to 10,000 people that led to the moment her public persona began to crack.
Stats
This episode
Factual claims made this episode, and whether a source was named.
Hanhart syndrome affects approximately 1 in 1 million people in the United States and can impact limbs, fingers, toes, or the jaw.
Between the mid-1930s and the 1990s, only 30 recorded incidents of Hanhart syndrome existed worldwide.
Briel's head began to misshape during her first nine months in the hospital because she only received attention during nurse rounds, causing her to focus constantly on the hallway window.
Briel's adoptive parents had 13 biological children of their own, in addition to adopting Briel, on a seminary teacher's income.
American Airlines offered to fly Briel's adoptive parents anywhere in the world to facilitate the adoption after the story was covered on national television.
Briel was required to traverse the stairs 20 times in 20 minutes every morning as a physical independence exercise set by her adoptive mother.
Briel's first video on Music.ly (later TikTok), posted on Halloween, received approximately 1 million views by midnight on the same night.
Briel now has 9 million followers across all social media platforms.
A brand video of Briel washing her hair received over 130 million views.
Briel has been on hormone therapy for almost three years and says it has dramatically improved her mental clarity, confidence, and emotional stability.
Briel gave motivational speeches to audiences of up to 10,000 people, delivering a speech written by her father and another collaborator.
Briel's adoptive mother had a background in dance and choreographed a new dance routine with Briel for her 7th-grade talent show after seeing Briel's first attempt.
Briel's husband Adam drove 10 hours from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles and back so Briel could appear on the podcast.
Briel came out as gay at age 20 publicly, as non-binary at 22, and fully as transgender at 23, having disclosed her trans identity to her husband before they married.
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