I should not need to write the title, but in this week of trans awareness there has been an increased pushback on the socials against trans women being women. I cannot imagine the amount of energy it must take for Maya Forstater, Helen Joyce, Kathleen Stock et al to be perpetually animated about trans women; indeed I think we can solve sustainable energy for the whole UK by taking them into a field and hooking them up to the grid so they can continually spin. All they seem to do is devise ever more tortuous was of saying that it is only biology that matters, that what you are at conception is your rote destiny. Their followers see them as evangelists, apostles in some righteous cause; yet for those trans women caught on the receiving end of their hate they are demagogues of pain.
As with all beliefs there is usually a kernel of truth wrapped up on warped perceptions of the world. At least with religion and political belief sifting the truth is fairly straight forward. With exclusionary feminism the chant “there are only two sexes” requires you to stop learning biology at GCSEs or middle school. Your whole worldview reduces down to how donates the gametes and who gestates them, with the gestator being the only one labelled woman. Its as if the 18th century called and exclusionary feminists gladly went running back. To reduce womanhood down to wombs and ovaries is to reduce womanhood down to chattel only fit for breeding.
Yes, I have written about this many times before, yet this week it feels much more personal. My journey to myself was rooted in ignorance by those around me, of a society where to be trans was to be a TV joke and be pitied in magazines. Male panty wearers and stealers of wives’ clothes were the image projected into society, where to be any form of trans was to be this misshapen bundle of angst. Much of this version of trans womanhood survives into the current socials, and I regularly get replies from exclusionary feminists showing persons in various states of undress and sexual activity shoved in my face for me to gender. Before I would splutter, though now my response is that I have no idea of the context the photos were taken in and I cannot presume anyone else’s gender identity without them telling me. It sickens me that body positive images are weaponised against potentially trans women.