This Year We Need Transgender Visibility More Than Ever

Trans Invisibility allows others to pretend there is bland homogeneity and that diversity in sex or gender is deviance.

Saturday March 31st marks Transgender Day of Visibility (TDOV). TDOV aims to promote acceptance of trans people, safeguarding their rights and combating hatred. Hatred relies on stereotyping groups of people and on self-limiting mindsets. Too often these are fuelled by a press whose prevalent view mi of a trans person is ‘a man in a dress’. The person inside is cruelly willed into forced invisibility.

I grew up with a secret, imaginary group of playmates. So many kids have imaginary friends. They provide a platform for rehearsing and exploring experiences outside the child’s own. Lonely children find a companion that comforts them whether it be a friend or an animal. It’s all in your head. When you’re a trans child, you tend live like that continually. The life you lead bears no resemblance to the one you need in order to help you thrive. Little girls crave other girls to play with, I did too. Until I went to school it was J, the girl across the road. When I started school, that had to change. Boys are supposed to play ball with other boys, not skipping with girls. J and I didn’t play together after that. I made friends with A, another lonely soul in the playground but her family moved away. Then I too became a loner, living inside my head with J & A, as my imaginary playmates. Teachers told my mum, with concern, that I was withdrawn and unsociable. Unknown to them, my imaginary life, though invisible to others, sustained me and held me up. Looking back, the imaginary experiences are the ones I cherish most. They helped me keep the faith in who I was.

Growing up I longed to be an ordinary girl like everyone else, blend in and be unexceptional. I was the boy who wanted to grow up and be a mum and a wife, not a dad or a husband. I viewed the bullying and hatred I received as my fault. Becoming invisible seemed the way forward.

Even though I craved it so strongly as a child, I see now what a dangerous place it is. You are benignly invisible if you stick to the rules. As an adult living in a conservative rural area, I rapidly discovered those rules were very restrictive indeed. Step outside them, dare to be visible and you are a target. Worse of all if others discover your secret they can threaten to out you. ‘Outing’ is forced visibility; their choice not yours. Invisibility becomes a trap not a refuge.

Being invisible with gender identity issues involves hiding your true self. When we hide we get smaller, shrink into ourselves and lose confidence. It is a dismal place to be. More importantly, invisibility breeds ignorance in others. Trans invisibility allows others to pretend there is bland homogeneity and that diversity in sex or gender is deviance. It also prevents others seeing they are not alone. Growing up a trans child, I wish there had been visible role models to give me hope for the future. I had none and the loneliness quite literally nearly killed me when I tried to take my own life.

Ironically, more often than not I seem to be invisible these days. I pass well. Others are doubting or incredulous if I ‘out’ myself. I’m invisible in plain sight, a business woman working alongside her husband. I’m simply a woman. Others are not so fortunate and stand out. At times I’ve felt almost guilty. Passing well is the dream of most Trans people, yet achieving it makes you invisible again. Invariably, I end up being deliberately open about my gender history. In doing so I hope to challenge attitudes. ‘You didn’t know I was trans before I told you. Will you really treat me differently now you know?’

Treating us differently is all too likely. Only a few days ago, The Sun covered the wedding of a young couple, both with trans histories. The front page story ran with the hateful and sensational headline: ‘Tran and Wife’. A happy, smiling wedding photo was accompanied by shots of them both before transition. It typifies the attitude of many that being trans is a joke to be laughed at. Having your ‘big day’ ridiculed isn’t how most of us start married life. Trans visibility is tough.

Today, visibility for gender identity is more needed than ever, it needs to be encouraged not ridiculed. Please give trans role models a chance.

Happy TDOV, 

Huggs, Jane xx

Excluding Trans Women From Women Only Spaces Is Not Feminism!

The current TERF wars and the animosity between Exclusionary Radical Feminism and Transgender Women seeks to polarise public opinion against Trans people generally. The UK's Sunday Times and Daily Mail have run a number of hateful articles which have only served to fuel this debate further.  Outspoken Feminists like Greer, Venice Allan and Sheila Jefferies have endeavoured to given further momentum to this debate, speaking at a number of meetings throughout the UK.  I know that many of my feminist sisters from the heady days of 2nd wave feminism have fallen for this rhetoric.  The arguments are seemingly very persuasive. There is now a new generation of younger 2nd wave feminists rallying to this call for the preservation of 'sex based rights'.

At the heart of this campaign is the whole debate about women's only spaces and whether Trans Women are men or women. It saddens me more and more, yet it scares me too. As a child my Feminist Mum raised me to believe that I could be whatever I wanted to be, regardless of gender.  I studied hard and got better qualifications than my male counterparts. I also wanted a family and I took a number of years out to raise and care for my two kids.  As a consequence, I'm now seriously disadvantaged in terms of employment.  A single parent, I spent 8 years holding down a low paid job I could have done with half my qualifications. I didn't complain, Men scare me at times: As I child I was seriously abused by one. One of my previous boyfriends, a man I thought loved me, subjected me to serious emotional and domestic abuse. I needed and got help thank goodness.  I therefore value women's only spaces and the support of my sisters. At times, they are the only spaces I have felt safe and secure. I have to admit that I too am unsure and unclear about what the proposed changes to the GRA will mean.  I know however that I would be very unhappy to deny anyone who is clearly a woman access to women's only spaces, no matter how and where they started their lives.

As it happens, although my corrected birth certificate now declares me to have been born a girl, I have a Trans history. Having Gender Dysphoria put me through the worst of times which are now thankfully behind me. One thing I am certainly NOT however, is a man. If we exclude (Trans) people from women's only spaces, we EXCLUDE women.  As a girl, feminism taught me that I have the right to determine my own destiny. Now a small group of my sisters seek to deny me that right. Why?

Excluding Trans Women from women's only spaces is not Feminism.  Feminism is neither elitist or exclusionary.  Once we start to pick and choose which women are deserving of protection and which women are not we are operating Apartheid.  

HUGGS, Jane xx

Motherhood, Infertility And Being a Woman

Growing up, motherhood was something I could only dream of.  Idealised girlhood fantasies of a handsome husband, a beautiful house and a brood of adorable children dominated my later childhood.  Advertising bombards us with stereotypes and the image of a table full of hungry children (plus husband) eating cereal or a mother's lovingly cooked meals is very pervasive. I was a lonely, only child who dreamed of having siblings to play with. I envied other children who belonged to larger families.  I now have an adoptive sister, but that's another story.  What is important here however is why you should never give up on your dreams and wishes. Living to be a mother when you are a Trans teen girl seems about as probable as flying to the moon.  Still, every Nativity and Mother's Day reminds you of how we celebrate Mums and how you'll never be one of them.

Motherhood can be tougher than you think. Trans Motherhood can be just as tough. I was diagnosed with Gender Identity Disorder; these days seen as simply Gender Dysphoria.  To grow up a woman I knew that I needed Gender Confirmation Surgery: Living my life in pieces with body parts that didn't belong just wasn't an option: It depressed me so much. I had already attempted to end my life. Aged 20 I entered what was to become a lesbian relationship and marriage.  I'm not proud of what I did, I did it in a vain attempt to conform and have a family to belong to.  A young infant (kindergarten) teacher, my school family of 25 children wasn't enough. My partner and I tried for a baby and failed. I realise now that our apparent infertility was due in large part to my Trans identity. For both of us, infertility was an enormous sorrow that dominated our lives and we sought medical help. When we did conceive it was a huge relief. Our two lovely children were precious miracles that neither of us had dreamed could happen. Essentially two Mums, at first we shared their care. Later I became a stay at home Mum when it made economic sense. When our marriage was later annulled (same sex marriage was then illegal in the UK) our children picked sides.  My youngest chose to live with me and my eldest with my ex.

Things could have gone terminally sour and bitter.  Our children, very much sibling rivals, spent little time together. As parents though we strove hard to redefine a relationship that stretched back to our own childhoods. As a result we each gained a new sister and I consider myself blessed to count her as a sibling. As we worked to redefine our sense of family, we both became single working mothers.  I found how quickly, how tough being a Trans single Mum was. My dyspraxic and accident prone daughter needed constant care and I found myself attending the local hospital emergency department frequently.  On two occasions, nursing staff reported me to Social Workers saying that my child had been injured and was accompanied by a man dressed as a woman.  According to their notes, this same man claimed to be her mother. I learned the hard way that society can be very hard on you and your child.  We ran the gauntlet at the local school, putting up with stares, name calling and stigmatisation. A fully qualified teacher, I took the only job I could get in a hurry; a low paid teaching assistant. Through it all my lovely daughter took my part, enduring the over curious questions from school companions.  We both chose our friends carefully.  I had little money and what I had I went on keeping a roof over our heads and bringing her up well. I had the constant support and help of my new sister and without her I would have been lost and lonely. Family had become very precious, but not the stereotypical TV one. On Mother's Day I got used to being rewarded with presents, cards and flowers by my daughter and it made me cry with emotion. It still makes me cry.

A single Mum, I was always frightened about dating. Mother and daughter can become a self sufficient unit and I was afraid of what a new partner might do to our little family. I didn't look for love until my daughter was in her High School senior year.  She was looking for love at the same time and there were laughable moments when we realised that our experiences ran so parallel.  She is now happy with her lovely and supportive girlfriend and if you follow this blog, you'll know that I myself met and married the man of my dreams.

They say that GCS leaves you feeling that you've been hit by a truck. It wasn't so for me. I healed quickly and easily but later when I married, nothing prepared me for the onrush of maternal feelings that hit me like an express train. Setting up home with the husband I had longed for, I desperately felt the need to plan and start a new family. Like the ghost of a menstrual cycle my hormones give me, those unbidden urges really hurt. The cramps and the mood swings remind me I'm a woman but I also know that I'm infertile too.  No amount of babymaking, wishing, wanting and longing will bring us a new family. I have no regrets but infertility is a constant sorrow for women with a Trans history. I still cry about my unborn children, the names they would have borne and the joy they would have brought in making my husband a father. I know he would be the most amazing Dad.  Indeed it was feeling secure in marriage and able to trust my loving husband that made me want a family again.

Women like Venice Allan and Germaine Greer would dismiss me as delusional and class my marriage as a Gay relationship. The woman you see above would be considered 'a man in a dress'. In the photo above the strap had fallen down briefly on my dress but I didn't care.  I feel much the same about Greer and Allan's pronouncements on Trans women. A woman whose birth certificate says 'Girl', I have campaigned my whole life for women's rights. I grew up idolising the heroes of Second Wave feminism. I came to realise that my activism was wider than that.  As feminists our struggle is intersectional.  I have no idea how it feels to grow up a black African woman but I respect and uphold her right to equality and self determination. By the same token I know that my sisters respect and uphold my rights too. That a few hateful individuals refuse to accept that intersectional truth is beyond me. One thing I do know is that I am not a man. I do not need TERF permission or approbation to call myself a wife, mother and a woman, I simply am one.

HUGGS, Jane xx