Never had it occurred to me that one day I would be the object of the world’s biggest political wedge issue; that I would help justify the Republicans spending $215mn on a hate campaign; that the world’s biggest selling author would devote her life to my ultimate destruction; and that a Labour government would turn on a sixpence and allow the removal of most of my human rights.
Seven years ago, I fully came out as a transgender woman. Before doing so, I was riddled with anxiety. I thought I would lose my wife and that my family might disown me. In the event, those things didn’t happen. For months I experienced euphoria on such a scale, I couldn’t eat properly and around that time I lost a pile of weight (that felt good too). The world suddenly seemed a magical place.
There was affirmation from many directions. My friends and neighbours were supportive and online there were many people offering me guidance on how to transition. I had identified an excellent gender counsellor and my social and physical changes began.
There were bumps on the road and I also had to confront the catastrophe of my wife dying from cancer. But I was feeling fulfilled, living my life as I had always wanted it to be, as a woman.
The pushback
About six years ago someone offended J K Rowling by accusing her of sending transphobic tweets. Her response was to adopt the modern and, to me, novel, way of handling criticism by doubling down.
Steadily she used her enormous online following to amplify the words of the gender critical, sometimes known as TERF, community. TERF stands for ‘trans exclusionary radical feminist’ but is often used more broadly to refer to anyone whose views on gender identity are considered hostile to transgender people. For a long time TERFS had been regarded as a nutty fringe. I wasn’t immediately too worried by them.
But, with the emergence of populist parties around the western world, the whipping up of fear and hate had begun to gain pace.
I can remember how my blood ran cold when the ruling of the UK Supreme Court was made public on 10 April this year. I was about to have my shower and then listen to the pop quiz on Radio 2 at 10:30 am. Just another ordinary day for me. Except, at that moment, everything changed.
The EHRC is not listening
A couple of days later I participated in a pro-trans gathering on College Green in Bristol. Upwards of 2,000 people turned up. I was asked by a member of the public to explain just what the rights are that were being removed by this ruling. I did my best to explain how the Supreme Court had ruled that the legal definiton of ‘woman’ refers exclusively to biological sex at birth. This ruling, I explained, excludes transgender women, including those with Gender Recognition certificates, from many areas of ordinary life, and also poses an existential challenge where it undermines our core identity and human rights. Since then, the consequences of the ruling have become much clearer.
Soon the Equalities and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) will publish their finalised recommendations on trans rights. If Bridget Phillipson, the current equalities minister, gives them her rubber stamp they will become law.
Asking the trans community to trust the independence of the EHRC is rather like expecting a woman who has been abused to trust the judgement on her future to her abuser. The EHRC’s recommendations will make grim reading for me and other trans people like me.
My fears for the future
What do I fear?
Access to healthcare for trans people is likely to be further limited. There is already a ban on puberty blockers, one that does not apply to cisgender girls. The prescription of hormone treatments may become even more difficult to obtain. I know trans women who are self-medicating because of the barriers already in place.
If I am banned from public toilets, my ability to be in public spaces will be hampered by my bladder. Long journeys on the motorway will be impractical. It isn’t reasonable, practical or safe to expect me to jump into fields or woods from the hard shoulder.
If I am banned from women’s changing rooms, I can’t play sports or go to the gym. At my age that isn’t a problem, but for many trans women it is. Decisions made by sports bodies have already excluded trans women from participating in competitive sports.
Hospitals may be forced to exclude me from women’s wards. Where will the hard-pressed hospitals put me? Am I facing a hospital death with my dignity stripped away?
In all probability, trans women will be formally excluded from women’s jails and from refuge centres. Both are unlikely to affect me directly but knowing that, because I am who I am I must wear a badge of exclusion, adds to a general sense of living in a hostile country.
The UK steps backwards
This government’s agenda appears to be fixed. I don’t expect any turning back or softening of its transphobic policies. There are a number of very strong trans allies on the Labour backbenches, but the majority of the Labour MPs are indifferent to our plight. There are so few of us, our cries for help will likely go unheeded
When the UK left the EU my belief in my country was undermined. My father had taught me to be proud of my country and for decades I was, but no longer. Now I find I live in a country where it feels as if the British government hates me because of who I am. The sheer number of measures introduced by the government in education, health and business amount to more than mere appeasement of the media. The Good Law Project has taken up our cause and is challenging many of these actions, but they and we face a long legal path to reverse them.
As this YouGov survey shows, attitudes to transgender people were, until recently, largely positive, but the rhetoric propagated by many politicans and the mainstream media is shifting public perception and opinions ever rightwards. This is a glaring example of the attempted normalisation and acceleration of anti-trans sentiment that’s occuring in the UK in the wake of Trump’s second presidency.
I have just hit 81 years of age and a large part of me is grateful and surprised I am still here. Another part of me is feeling what bad luck it is to have survived only to find myself living here in transphobic Britain, otherwise known as ‘Terf Island’.
Editor’s note: Listen to Zoe Perry being interviewed in the West England Bylines Pride Special podcast
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