On 16 April this year, I held my phone in one hand as a kindly nurse, Sofia, removed my surgical dressings.
“Huh,” I said. “The Supreme Court has just ruled that I’m a man, apparently.”
“Well, you have a lovely new vagina,” Sofia replied.
The timing was so on-the-nose I wouldn’t dare include it in a script. It would be naff. Sometimes, I guess, life is naff.
Why on earth would I share something so personal? It seems that politely asking for a dignified life has fallen on deaf ears, so I’ll be undignified for a second. I was filled with hope when Labour came to power, but it’s now clear that the party is happy to throw trans people under the bus for a quiet life.
So while politicians certainly aren’t welcome at Pride this year, I think Pride month is important. In fact, I think it’s more important than ever that we dig out our Asos mesh tops and denim cut-offs.
Why? Because this is how we’ve always done it, and this is how we win. Joy triumphs hate, and it seems to me we have two choices: we can either sit on X, spewing increasingly unhinged tweets, or we can go dance to Jade at Mighty Hoopla. I know which looks more fun.
It’s hard, though. What I want to do is panic. If one uses the word “fascism”, people accuse you of hysteria – but isn’t this precisely what fascism looks like? A minority group is unfairly demonised until public opinion sours sufficiently for lawmakers to impose restrictions on said group.
Well, that’s where we’re at right now. While some may find trans people icky or weird, we overwhelmingly haven’t actually done anything wrong. It’s a mess. While so far, nothing has changed in law, there’s sufficient confusion that lesbians are being challenged in Boston restrooms, hate crimes against trans people are soaring, and health secretary Wes Streeting seems to have a personal vendetta against trans youth.
I share in the confusion: I changed my passport in 2015, but now I can’t get a visa to the USA for my book tour unless I say I’m male? Will I get detained at JFK? My birth certificate was lawfully reissued in 2018 as a female birth certificate, but now I’m not a woman legally?
My view is that despite the law being very clear, actually, a few very determined transphobes have crawled their way to the heart of the law like maggots in an apple. A system that has been working perfectly well since 2010 has now been unnecessarily tampered with – and Starmer has capitulated because he’s spineless.
Look, I can’t speak for all trans women, but I just want to live my life the way I always imagined it. I have become the version of myself I wanted to be when I was four. This is who I wanted to be. I wear what I want, and eat what I want. I have two dogs and spend my money on expensive cocktails and rare Bratz dolls from 2001. Choices.
I have the same choices over my life and body that I would want for every single person on earth. I’m not trying to make a statement about what a woman is, I just want to be one.
I don’t really care if someone thinks that is biologically impossible; I’ve got near enough to be wholly satisfied. I am happy. My friends and family are happy for me. To anyone opposed to gender transition, I would ask, why can’t you be happy for me too? Why does this boil your p*** so much?
So even though I am scared, genuinely, I will celebrate and protest at Pride this year – my cis friends have rallied around me and my trans sisters to ensure we’re protected. The celebration IS the protest. This is my invite to readers: join us!
Queer people are really, really fun. We were dealt a weird curveball in a straight society, but we come together once a year and rejoice at how we overcame the myriad obstacles that were placed in front of us. We got over them, and now we dance and sing.
Those unimaginative, mean-hearted bigots don’t want to see us revel in joy, so we absolutely have to.
