So You Don't Think I'm A Woman

What I want is what all women want. I want to be treated like a human being, both in public and in private.

“{There are] points of view that suggest that no matter what I do, I’ll never be a woman – and yet, ain’t I a woman?” – Laverne Cox, last phrase quoting Sojourner Truth

I am a woman and I learned some time ago to stop caring about whether or not other people believe it. It hurts sometimes, because ever since I can remember, every bone in my body has spoken clearly to me, telling me what and who I am. And ever since I can remember, I have been punished for it. By my family. By my teachers and classmates and school. By random strangers on the street. And random strangers on the internet. I have been denied and fired from jobs and opportunities because of who I am. I have been threatened, mocked, and ridiculed. I have been assaulted and attacked. I have had garbage thrown at me. I have been used. I have had romantic partners who were ashamed of me.  Because I am a woman.

For as long as I can remember, I have been punished for being a woman, so yes, it does hurt when people do not see or actively deny my gender, but I have also learned to stop caring so much because the truth of who I am remains in my bones no matter what anyone else believes. And you are entitled to your beliefs. You can believe whatever you want, and so can I.

You see, this is not about feelings. Isn’t that what the conservatives and gender critical feminists always say? Gender isn’t about feelings, it’s about reality. I can get on board with that. To me, gender isn’t about feelings, it’s about human rights, and the reality is that according to the American Journal of Public Health, transgender people are four times more likely than the general population to experience violent crime. The reality is that a prominent speaker at the Conservative Political Action Conference in 2023 said, and I quote, “transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely,” to rapturous cheers and applause. The reality is a prominent radical feminist speaker recently advocated for men with guns to enter women’s bathrooms, ostensibly for the purpose of shooting people like me on sight upon entry.

The reality is that for many decades of human history, trans people like me have been considered by default to be sick, perverted, dangerous, and disgusting. It was considered simply the norm that we would experience violence and die young, alone, with the wrong name written on our graves. The reality is that, apparently, things have not changed all that much today.

In 2014, actress and activist Laverne Cox appeared on the cover of Time Magazine, representing an article about the so-called trans tipping point, the supposed beginning of a new and freer time for trans people in history. Less than a year, Cox called out what she declared a state of emergency for trans people, particularly trans women of colour, who were then and still continue to be attacked and murdered at an alarming rate. Since the trans tipping point, we have seen the outgrowth of an enormous backlash to the fact of our existence, and it has only grown in fervor and intensity.

So I am learning not to care whether or not you believe that I am a woman. What I care about is my rights – my right to safety and dignity, to use a public restroom or changeroom without fear of verbal or physical harassment, and to express my humanity in the way that I choose. In other words, what I want is what all women want. I want to be treated like a human being, both in public and in private.

Throughout history, any time a minority group has started to advocate for equal rights, there has been backlash. I know that this backlash has its origins in fear and trauma, and so I refuse to respond to it in the language of fear. I want to respond in the language of love.

Fear says, there is not enough safety or freedom to go around, so we have to protect the many at the expense of the few. Fear says that what is different is dangerous, so we have the right to use violence and degradation against those who are different from us. Fear says, there are only two ways: my way or the highway. Love disagrees. Love knows that there is always another way.

Love says that there is enough space for all of us, even when we disagree. You may not believe that I am a woman, and all I can do is accept that. Love says that no one deserves to be thrown away. Love says that compromise is possible, that we have more in common than sets us apart. Love says that of course finding our way to a new world is hard, because we have only known the pain and terror of the old one. Love says that we all have the right to thrive in the public arena, because in the immortal words of Cornel West, “justice is what love looks like in public.” Love says that we can find the courage the set our fears aside, are you willing to do that with me?

I hope you choose love.