IT IS THE 2ND OF JUNE 2019. I am alone in my Edinburgh flat. It is evening, I have had two glasses of wine, when a friend messages me with a ‘WTF’ and an article from the arts publication, The Skinny, attached. The article is entitled ‘Pride and Prejudice.’ Several columnists have been asked for their views on Pride marches in 2019. I am quickly drawn to what has led to the ‘WTF.’
One of the columnists writes that they avoid Pride due to perceived transphobia from certain lesbian groups, and adds ‘I [have] received much criticism for demanding violent action against these TERFs… While my comments were extreme, I stand by what I said.’ This was in reference to the columnist’s tweets, which are, indeed, ‘extreme’:
Any trans allies at #PrideLondon right now need to step the fuck
up and take out the TERF trash. Get in their faces. Make them
afraid. Debate never works so fuck them up.
This was accompanied by a picture of a trans woman grappling a distressed woman, harrying her forcibly somewhere, a still taken, I believe, from a film. The other tweet stated ‘Beat them up’ alongside a retweet about campaign group Get The L Out, a lesbian advocacy group that argues lesbians are no longer well represented by organisations such as Stonewall and should form separate activist spaces.
Gender-identity activism, ideological schisms about sex and gender, and the current and proposed legislation surrounding transgender rights, particularly how these interact with women’s rights, are cultural phenomena affecting many different areas. These topics have become fraught with confusions and contradictions, and are the most divisive cultural issues I have ever experienced. If you have tried to understand these issues at all, the acronym ‘TERF’ will be familiar. For those to whom the term is new, I will attempt to outline its use.
‘TERF’ stands for ‘trans-exclusionary, radical feminist’ but its usage has expanded over time to include non-feminist women. The latter may fully affirm current trans rights already enshrined in law by the Equality Act 2010. TERFs may also include women who support actions to further mitigate discrimination faced by trans people. Those referred to as TERFs do not, however, accept extreme aspects of queer theory—which often involve denial of biological sex as something materially definable and legislatively important. The ‘exclusionary’ aspect comes from defining ‘sex’ as meaning, simply, the dictionary definition of ‘men’ and ‘women,’ ie, ‘adult human male’ and ‘adult human female.’ These category definitions are implicitly ‘exclusionary’. They are, though, categories on which legal protections are based, as is ‘gender reassignment.’
However, these definitions are often taken to be value judgements about subjective identities: many gender activists see the definition of ‘woman’ as ‘adult human female’ as inherently transphobic: transgender women as not ‘real’ women. This stands even if someone treats trans women as women in all but a few scenarios in which being female is objectively of great importance. Such activists assert that trans women are women. This is supported by many who believe this statement governs how trans women should be treated in general society. Most of us want kindness; affirming someone’s identity through referring to them how they wish, within reason, is something the majority do without question. However, some gender activists mean that trans women are not just socially to be treated as women (howsoever defined) but that they are literally female; thus, lesbians may have penises, and, referring to trans men, some men can give birth, etc.
Even mildly expressing discomfort with this new definition is taken by such activists as rank bigotry. Most opprobrium is directed at women and feminists; it is rare to see men who write about masculinity or being male told they are exclusionary against trans men. The culture war over this issue has its roots in this fundamental clash: a view that asserts no material basis for ‘female’ other than self-declaration versus feminist thinking grounded in female embodiment as the site of female oppression.
Those referred to as a ‘TERF’ have pointed out that the definition of transgender has shifted since the process of obtaining a Gender Recognition Certificate and changing one’s legal sex was implemented in 2004. That process is not, however, necessary for one to transition socially. Nor is it a prerequisite for legal protections for one’s transgender status, as explained above. However, those referred to as TERFs believe it of huge significance that ‘gender identity’ or ‘female-identified’ now replaces ‘sex’ or ‘woman’ in many institutions, even without any change in law, nor a settled agreement about the ideology underpinning such language. They see ‘gender identity’ as ideological language which presupposes a universal experience of gender as an identity: one is either cis- or trans-gender, or sometimes non-binary. But feminists in particular do not view gender as an identity—‘gender’ is used to refer to a set of cultural stereotypes, tropes and expectations to be fought hard against. They reject the prefix ‘cis’ to the word ‘woman’ for this reason, refuting the demand to ‘identify’ with gender at all. (‘Cis’ gender means one ‘identifies with the gender assigned at birth’.)
Such feminists argue that biology is not destiny. Being born male or female does not mean you must follow gendered behaviours or expressions set down by whatever culture you find yourself in. Indeed, where oppressive, these must be fought against. This is the key tenet of feminism. They see an internalisation of gender as something concrete, to be identified with, as therefore regressive. Many also worry about such an ideology beginning to gain cultural dominance, often without question, across the arts, in education, in sports, in prisons, and
other spheres. They judge that this dominance is to the detriment of women’s ability to speak on issues concerning sex and gender that affect them materially, recourse to fairness in a structurally sexist society, and—in the case of sports and prisons—to females’ safety.
Gender dysphoria is usually taken to be the reason for an individual’s wish or need to transition. This condition means real, deep distress experienced by any individual perceiving they should be the opposite sex or, in the case of those who identify as non-binary, deep distress with certain aspects of one’s sex, which may be resolved through making physical changes to one’s body or appearance. While an empathy for individuals with this diagnosable condition remains, many people, predominantly women, struggle with a shift away from
dysphoria being a precursor to both self-declaration and/or legal change of sex. Material, legislative and ideological concerns feature in the discussions around these issues.
While such language (‘cis’, ‘female-identified’, ‘gender identity’, ‘non-binary’, ‘TERF’) may not be new to those within queer communities, the mainstreaming of the discussion has caused severe rifts and confusions. At root, this issue concerns a significant, fundamental difference of viewpoint on the nature, and importance, of defining sex and gender in both law and society. It involves use of the same words to mean very different things.
These rifts and ideological schisms existed well before changes to the law were proposed by both UK and Scottish governments. In both cases, however, these proposals involved badly handled public consultations. This has led to public confusion about the law as it stands and a huge escalation in disharmony. Some politicians have asserted that this is a discussion between only two ‘sides’: full ‘Self-ID’ proposals met without question, including those aimed at young people, versus ‘transphobia’ and a ‘roll-back of trans rights.’ This false dichotomy has been exceptionally damaging. It has also led to deep unease when these issues are raised. As what follows will show, there is good reason for that. The consequences of being seen to be ‘on the wrong side’ on this—though there are actually several views on its various aspects—are chilling. It is no wonder so many people’s response is a swift ‘live and let live!’ and a diving
out of further research or conversation. As will become clear, that attitude is not possible for political, female writers.
That it takes so many words to set out the broad arguments, without even stating one’s own views or starting to unpick how this should operate in law, has always concerned me. Meaningful political discourse requires clarity. I worry when obfuscating language is used, terms go undefined or are circular and/or unclear. I worry when a lack of good faith is the starting point in a ‘democratic’ consultation. Likewise where adherence to ideology, hidden within what may include legitimate legislative requirements, is demanded. It becomes impossible in such a situation to parse the legitimate, sound ideas from the bad law and the ideological strictures. One’s opponents can thus dismiss any critique of either aspect as opposition to the whole. Even engaging with the ‘wrong’ side, including merely listening in good faith to the concerns above, can lead to accusations of bigotry or ‘anti-trans’ sentiment. All this strikes me as a terrible way to conduct important political discourse. But I am most concerned by the tactics of some gender activists in this febrile debate in other countries, tactics now embedded in activism in the UK too. By ‘gender activists’ I do not mean trans people. Many gender activists are not transgender; they describe themselves as ‘allies’.
These tactics have included the vandalising of a women’s library and the defunding of a rape crisis centre in Vancouver that is female-only. This centre also had a dead rat nailed to its door and ‘TERFS GO HOME’ spray-painted on its door-front—a space used by victims of domestic violence. Other intimidation includes death threats, no-platforming, violence, stalking and harassment of feminist writers and academics. It involves conflating ‘TERF’ with ‘fascist’ and advocating the beating of these dehumanised women as ‘valid’ activism. Closer to home, a friend was publicly traduced as biologically essentialist and transphobic after giving a speech about women in the film industry. She had suggested that women’s traditional roles as mothers and primary care-givers may have contributed to their historical lack of representation in film-making. Her points are perfectly valid: they would barely have been questioned four years ago. These are only a few such incidences. I don’t know how these differences can be resolved civilly when such a well-stated viewpoint is responded to with such accusations. I do not know how any woman working in the arts can now talk critically about this structurally sexist sector and our female reality if the latter is deemed intrinsically ‘essentialist’ or ‘transphobic’.
What I have always known is that women who wish to discuss this do not deserve to be threatened, beaten, ‘fucked up’, or punched in the face. The column mentioned at the start of this essay was the first time I had seen such violent rhetoric referred to in a mainstream Scottish arts publication. I was struck by a need to say something. Undoubtedly, the wine contributed…
I took to Twitter and wrote:
Hello! One of your commentators here advocates violence against
lesbian activists at Pride. I find it extraordinary that such views are
given an airing in The Skinny, and for clarity, the ‘I stand by what I
said’ refers to beating up ‘TERFs’, ie women. At Pride. Just FYI.
Many agreed with my tweet (I was not the only person who pointed out the violent rhetoric). I also experienced instantaneous backlash, accusations of ‘tone-policing’, and several angry direct messages. I attempted to navigate this as best I could. After two days it seemed to die down. In the interim, an individual at The Skinny emailed me admitting editorial oversight. The article was quietly amended online, removing ‘TERF’ and the reference to the tweets. However, a representative at the magazine unhelpfully downplayed the chorus of complaints as ‘transphobia’. But the issue was, rather, that incitement to violence had been normalised in a mainstream arts publication. The trans identification of the author was irrelevant to me: their words were incitement to ‘allies’, whom I know to be a wide demographic. So far, so Twitter.
I felt that my stance was not complex enough to be misinterpreted. However, a few days later the columnist who wrote the piece attended a protest outside an event at Edinburgh University and, afterwards, attempted to assault one of the speakers, the feminist Julie Bindel. This was widely reported at the time. I found myself tagged into people’s fury that a) my and other women’s warning about the column’s content had been so downplayed, and b) that there had been no response from the magazine publicly. If a general reader now assumes that
those haranguing me might have laid off a little at my pointing out that publishing and mainstreaming calls for violence can lead to offline violence, they would be mistaken.
On a friend’s Facebook page where this series of incidents was discussed, I was extensively drilled about my views, over the course of several days, primarily by a prominent novelist whom I have known for several years. To many observers this looked and felt exactly how it felt to me: a dogmatic attempt to paint me as motivated by transphobia. My informed responses to her attempt to discuss trans identities, when the topic at hand was incitement to violence being published in a mainstream arts publication, were ignored.
First, my knowledge of gender identity legislation was questioned. It was then asserted that there was no evidence the columnist had attempted to commit any violence at all despite their tweeting ‘Lost my shot at Julie Bindel’. I was rebuked for talking about ‘violence against women’ when ‘it is violence BETWEEN women […] surely’, missing that there was no ‘between’ about the incident, nor the incitement. The latter illustrates, of course, the sex/gender definition confusions laid out earlier. Any suggestion that this was not two women involved in mutual violence (one with words, one with fists) was deemed a sign (or ‘dog-whistle’) of transphobia.
Subsequently, a demonstration of how I had ever shown support for trans people was demanded. I questioned the relevance of this. I was responded to with an article about the horrendous murders of trans people worldwide, largely sex workers in Latin America. I was told that focusing on The Skinny and the violence was a derailment, when to me that was the entire topic under discussion. I was then accused of having posted transphobic comments on a fellow poet’s page a few months earlier. This was pure invention. I am not conn
