I have a new peer-reviewed academic article out in the International Journal of Transgender Health, co-authored with my colleagues Cal Horton, Jaimie Veale, Lou Kerley, and Ken Pang.
The article looks at a range of questionnaires which are in common use internationally in trans youth healthcare. These are designed as a type of data collection tool known as “Patient Recorded Outcome Measures”, or PROMs, in which patients are asked direct questions about their feelings and experiences, to track the outcome of specific treatments.
PROMs are common across healthcare and mental health interventions more generally. You may have experienced this yourself if you have ever seen a therapist, for instance. A widely-used example is GAD-7. This invites patients or clients to use a numerical scale to rate how often they have felt bothered by particular problems, such as “feeling nervous, anxious or on edge”, or “feeling afraid as if something awful might happen”.
If a patient or client fills out a questionnaire such as GAD-7 both before and after receiving a treatment or therapeutic intervention, the care provider can – in theory – test how successful their intervention has been.
In trans healthcare, PROMs have historically been used by clinicians for research purposes, as well as for tracking individual outcomes. This has often been problematic, especially when patients are presented with a great many questions, or where these questions are experienced as pathologising or intrusive. For example, in the mid-2010s the Nottingham Centre for Transgender Health notoriously subjected new patients to27 pages of apparently mandatory questions, including about seemingly random topics such gaming. This caused a great deal of stress and confusion for people seeking care at the clinic.
However, with specialist trans healthcare provision increasingly facing political threats, many clinics currently present PROMs as necessary to demonstrate the benefits of the care they provide. With this in mind, Cal Horton set out to examine over 30 PROMs used in trans youth healthcare, assessing them according to four aspects of pathologisation (authenticating transness, intrusion, delegitimisation, and transnormativity) as well as over-assessment. They then brought their findings to our research team, and we wrote them up collectively. We found that both pathologisation and over-assessment were widespread across a majority of these PROMs. For example:
“Tool BI2 asks children to rate how happy they are with 26 body parts, asking which body parts they would like to surgically change, including body parts that cannot be changed through medical intervention (e.g. hands). These questions do not adopt a trauma-informed approach, and many may be experienced as abusive. Tool BI1, for example, asks how children like to pee and how they feel about looking at their body naked, questions which are clinically unnecessary and likely to be experienced as a significant intrusion of privacy by service users.“
The central argument of our article is that numerous commonly-used PROMs are impacted by a wider legacy of pathologisation in trans health, in which young people especially were treated as objects of clinical curiousity, rather than subjects of care. Since these PROMs are well-established and scientifically “validated”, they continue to be used in clinics which profess to practice forms of affirmative care. We therefore named these “pathologising legacy measures”, and caution against their continued use.
We do recognise that many clinics continue to use pathologising legacy measures out of a genuine desire to evidence necessary, life-saving care in an increasingly hostile political environment. Our ultimately question to these clinics is: at what cost?
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What if every person who emailed you faced the reality of the UK’s segregation regime?
Last year I created an internal auto-reply for my work email, in the wake of the 2025 Supreme Court judgement which redefined sex for the purpose of the Equality Act and undermined the civil rights of trans people in Britain. I explained the logic for this in a blog post about it:
“It is impossible for me to forget what is happening to trans people and especially trans people in the UK, so I will ensure it is impossible for my colleagues to forget this also. Equally, my intention is to transform bad feelings into understanding, and practical action.”
One year on, and the auto-reply is still there. It’s come and gone a bit, been amended and updated, and now goes to every single person who emails me, internally and externally, be they a colleague, a student, a community collaborator, a journalist, or anyone else who might be in contact. It has been impossible for me to experience any kind of normality at work during this time, so I do not believe that anyone contacting me should expect me to act as if nothing significant is happening. Most recently, I updated the auto-reply to respond to the EHRC’s new Code of Practice for Services, Public Functions and Associations, which provides a formal framework for the segregation of trans people in most areas of public life.
I know the auto-reply has been actively useful. I have received messages from people thanking me for it, and from those who have adopted it for their own purposes. The most surprising response was a hand-written letter sent by air mail from a scholar based at George Washington University in Washington DC, who had originally been in contact about peer review for a journal I edit. She very kindly thanked me for “providing background, advice regarding how to respond proactively, information regarding further reading as well as resources for those who need support“.
I was deeply moved that she took the time and care to contact me in this way. This reminded me how when we share ideas and information, it can reach and help people in unexpected ways, often without us ever knowing about it.
With this in mind, I am sharing the full text of my current auto-reply. In addition to drawing on the resources I have shared, please do feel free to copy, use, and amend the material for your own purposes if relevant.
Thank you for your email. While I have your attention, I wish to highlight the UK government’s plan to introduce a new segregation regime by 30 June 2026. This will likely have severe implications for the wellbeing of women and trans people, and will impact my ability to work safely at the University of Glasgow.
As an expert in trans studies, I outline further information and potential actions below, as well as spaces you might seek support.
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Background
In June 2025, the Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) consulted on proposed guidance for the mandatory segregration of trans people from single-sex spaces in all areas of public life. The EHRC recieved 50,000 responses to their consultation. These were not read by human beings, but instead analysed by AI, enabling them to ignore calls for a different approach.
The consultation took place against a wider background of rising hatred and intolerance towards all minoritised groups in the UK. Two of my friends died due to transphobia and transmisogyny in September 2025 alone.
In May 2026, a new draft Statutory Code of Practice Services, public functions and associations was put to Parliament, drafted by the EHRC. This provides explicit provisions for the exclusion of trans people from public life, through means that are also likely to disportionately impact women and disabled people. Simultaneously, the UK government has introduced new guidance insisting that institutions collect and report data on every person’s sex assigned at birth, which has significant privacy implications for intersex and trans people.
You can read more about these changes, including their causes and wider implications, here:
Write to senior management in your workplace, asking what they will do to support women and trans staff and/or service users, including through actively lobbying the UK and/or national governments, and ensuring continued access to women’s and men’s facilities as relevant.
Write to your line manager and ask what action they will be taking to protect women and trans staff, and what pressure they will be putting on senior management to do the same.
Write to your political representatives (e.g. MPs, MSPs) more generally. Explain exactly why you are concerned, and demand action to protect trans people’s civil rights. For example, you could ask for new primary legislation to protect trans people, ask why the UK is no longer complying with the European Convention on Human Rights, or demand the dismissal of openly transphobic commissioners from the EHRC. You do not have to write a perfect letter and it is okay to be emotional and express sorrow or anger, so long as you are not aggressive or mean. If you live in the UK, you can find contact details for your representatives here: https://www.theyworkforyou.com/.
Support trans people materially, through providing time, resources, and/or money to community initiatives. Examples include: Glasgow Trans Collective (fundraising for emergency support to people facing an immediate danger of threat to life, https://www.gofundme.com/f/glasgow-trans-collective-emergency-fund); Trans Harm Reduction (supporting safer practices for people self-medicating in the absence of NHS treatment, https://transharmreduction.org); and Five for Five (donating money every month to a range of trans women’s causes, https://www.fiveforfive.co.uk).
Check in on your trans friends and colleagues. Make sure they are okay, and do what you can to be there for them. But do your own research on what you can do to help: don’t put this burden on us. Some good places for information include the websites and social media channels for TransActual, What The Trans, QueerAF, Trans Safety Network, Scene Mag, and Trans Writes.
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Further reading
You can read more about the EHRC proposals and recent Supreme Court judgement that inspired them here:
Women and trans people across the country, including my own friends, have reported increased abuse and street harassment, as the ruling is seen to position trans women as legitimate targets for misogyny and violence. Trans people of all genders are already even more likely to experience public harassment, sexual assault and rape than cis women (see e.g. https://bulletin.appliedtransstudies.org/article/3/1-2/3/). If the EHRC’s proposals are implemented, this will likely get worse.
Realistically, the EHRC segregation regime probably will be implemented in the immediate term. The UK government has demonstrated a clear commitment to hate and authoritarianism, and Labour MPs have little appetite for rebellion. It is important that we – you – do not lose hope as a consequence. I hope this moment helps you to focus on the struggles that lie ahead, and the collective strength we hold in the face of those struggles. With this in mind, I also recommend Josie Giles’ funeral prayer for EDI:
Additionally, I find hope and power in community organising. You can read about that in a 2025 blog post I wrote following the death of two of my friends, and a recent article by Juliet Jacques.
This auto-response is inspired by bell hooks’ comments in her book Teaching to Transgress:
“When education is the practice of freedom, students are not the only ones who are asked to share, to confess […] empowerment cannot happen if we refuse to be vulnerable while encouraging students to take risks. [Lecturers] who expect students to share confessional narratives but are themselves unwilling to share are exercising power in a way that could be coercive. In my classrooms, I do not expect students to take any risks I would not take, to share in any way that I would not share. […] It is often productive if [lecturers] take the first risk, linking confessional narratives to academic discussions so as to show how experience can illuminate and enhance our understanding[.]”
I will not necessarily respond to any replies you send to this automated message, as I am trying to stay focused on teaching, admin, and research while the world burns down around me. But regardless, thank you.
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I am one of the 85 signatories to an open letter to James Palmer, NHS England’s National Medical Director for Specialised Services. We are raising serious concerns about the recent NHS evidence reviews of hormone therapy for trans youth, and subsequent prescribing policy and public consultation.
The letter has been published and sent to Palmer by Trans Actual – you can read more about it on their site here. In my signature, I note that I was a 2023 recipient of the NHS England LGBT+ Advisor Award. Unfortunately, in subsequent years, NHS policy on LGBT+ healthcare seems increasingly shaped by ideology and political pressure, rather than patient experience, expert advice, and evidence. In meetings I attended with Palmer in the early 2020s, I personally heard him share various forms of disinformation about young trans people, such as the factually inaccurate claim that recent cohorts of adolescents presenting with gender dysphoria represent a distinct population from young people referred to the same clinics in earlier years.
We are a group of clinicians, researchers, and academics working in gender care, paediatrics, and related fields of healthcare, medicine, and science.
We are writing to lay out our serious concerns with NHS England’s recently-published evidence reviews into the use of gender-affirming hormone therapy (GAHT) by children and adolescents.
1. Lack of Clear Rationale
The Cass Independent Review previously commissioned a systematic evidence review into GAHT for under-18s.
Based on this peer-reviewed and published analysis, Dr. Cass recommended that “NHS England should review the policy on masculinising/feminising hormones. The option to provide masculinising/feminising hormones from age 16 is available, but the Review would recommend extreme caution.”
A “living systematic review” – also recommended by Dr. Cass – is now underway, to consolidate the evidence base and keep it up-to-date. This work is being conducted by EPPI-Centre and others, funded by the National Health and Care Research Institute (NIHR), and includes an ongoing review of evidence for GAHT for under-18s.
None of the NHS England evidence reviews have been peer reviewed or written to meet publication standards. Instead, NHS England released the reviews only as part of a public consultation process and has asked the general public to “check that draft policies are well evidenced” and to determine whether “all of the relevant evidence [has] been taken into account”.
Consultation is not a substitute for formal academic review, and risks conflating technical evaluation with public opinion.
3. Methodological Limitations and Risk of Bias
Rather than address a single, clinically meaningful research question, NHS England subdivided the GAHT for under-18s evidence review into 10 separate and extremely narrow PICOs (population, intervention, comparison and outcome search parameters).
We have confirmed that this methodological decision was made by NHS England’s “Policy Working Group”, prior to instructing the “independent” researchers, Solutions for Public Health (SPH).
This methodological approach explicitly goes against the gold-standard guidance outlined in the Cochrane Handbook, which cautions that fragmentation of PICOs is likely to result in “sparse” evidence and “could be chosen by review authors to produce a desired result.”
As a result of these overly-narrow search parameters, the researchers had to exclude some of the most significant studies on gender-affirming care for young people, such as Chen et al., 2023, the largest NIH-funded prospective study of trans youth ever conducted.
Ultimately, the researchers could find only 11 eligible studies across all 10 PICOs, with 0 (zero) studies found for 6 of the 10 reviews. In contrast, the University of York evidence review commissioned by Dr Cass found 53 studies, 34 of which were assessed as moderate- or high-quality.
As an example, studies were deemed “out of scope” if participants had received GnRH analogues in the context of puberty suppression prior to receiving gender-affirming hormones (despite the fact that this was the standard treatment protocol internationally for many years, including in the UK).
According to the published reviews, as a result of this methodological decision alone at least 38 studies were excluded that would otherwise have been eligible (and potentially many more at title/abstract stage). These studies could, at the very least, have provided information on the risk profile of GAHT, a factor which NHS England claims to be central to their policy decision making.
NHS England has published no rationale at all for this – and other– methodological decisions. In response to an FOI request, NHS England indicated that studies involving GnRHa puberty suppression “cannot be included” in the PICOs because of “legal issues”, an “ongoing research trial in this area” and “lack of new evidence” – reasons that we find scientifically unsound.
Additionally, in contexts where limited evidence is available for a paediatric intervention, it would be typical for researchers to consider extrapolating data from research into adults, something that NHS England again chose not to do.
In effect, NHS England has adopted a methodological approach that predictably minimises the available evidence base, then cites this manufactured scarcity as a justification for restrictive policy conclusions.
4. Misreporting and Misapplication of Findings
Especially in paediatrics, clinical policy and decision-making is commonly based on evidence considered limited and/or “low-quality” as recognised under the GRADE system. There is therefore no reason why the purported lack of evidence reported in these reviews should automatically lead to the policy position that gender-affirming hormones are so unsafe and/or ineffective for 16- and 17 year olds that they must be immediately withdrawn.
Even when looking only at the 11 studies included in this NHS England evidence review, we believe the overall pattern of evidence suggests that the benefits of GAHT for under-18s outweigh any harms. We believe this is also the case in the University of York review.
We have also found that at least one of the studies included in the SPH reviews that apparently found evidence of “harm” (Grannis et al., 2003) was entirely misreported. The evidence review states that those taking oestrogen had significantly higher depression, suicidality and social anxiety scores than those not on hormones. In fact, Grannis et al. found no statistically-significant differences on these measures.
5. Impacts of Treatment Withdrawal
As far as we are aware, NHS England has no plan to monitor the impact of this withdrawal of gender-affirming healthcare on patient outcomes. This is despite evidence that removal of gender-affirming care is associated with adverse mental health outcomes, including increased suicidality among trans youth.
A decision to withdraw a treatment must consider what alternatives will be provided. Psychotherapy or psychosocial support alone – all that is currently available via the NHS – has not been demonstrated to be an effective treatment for those with a diagnosis of gender dysphoria. Nonetheless, as far as we know, NHS England has no plans to conduct a similar evidence review of this intervention.
The event will also feature performances from drag artists Medea and Fair Verona, more spoken word from Nat Raha, and DJ sets from Husane and Arcadio.
We’ll be fundraising for Brooklyn, a Cherokee two spirit woman and recent graduate of the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. She is currently is trying to raise money for a graduate visa to stay in Glasgow, where she will be safer than the USA.
If you’re free on Thursday and live in or near Glasgow, join us for an excellent night of performance and dancing! Medea, a true pillar of our community in Glasgow, has been doing an incredible job running Oestrogenesis nights over the last couple of years. So I am super excited to be taking to the stage for this one.
In mid-April I will be travelling to Sweden to speak at the University of Gothenburg. I will provide a keynote address at a symposium titled Academic Freedom and Collegial Solidarity in Times of Pressure, hosted by the academic journal lambda nordica. I am really looking forward to again meeting Swedish colleagues, and learning with them, after an extremely productive visit to Karlstad, Uppsala, and Linköping last year.
My talk, “From Birth Parents to Backlash”, takes the Trans Pregnancy Project as a starting point for thinking through how and why academics are facing specific types of social and political backlash, what this looks like in practice, and what we can do about this.
It will build on material I have previously delivered at events such as the BSA Medsoc annual conference, and last year’s Standards of Evidenceworkshop at the University of Lausanne. I will be linking long-term trends to more recent events, thinking through how recent attacks on academic freedom build on phenomena such as the international trans panic and debates over the teaching of critical race and gender theory within universities.
The public portion of the event will take place on Thursday 16 April, and details can be found here.
In January, I received an unexpected message. And at first, I thought I was being scammed.
Actually, I received several unexpected messages, over a couple of weeks. These comprised direct messages to my social media accounts, a comment on this blog, and – eventually – an email to my work account.
The purported person urgently trying to contact me was Mieke Verloo, Professor of Comparative Politics and Inequality Issues at Radboud University in the Netherlands, and Permanent Fellow at the Institute for Human Sciences in Vienna, Austria. I was familiar with her extensive feminist scholarship, especially her work on gender equality policies and anti-gender movements. Given the overlap in our interests, I wasn’t surprised she reached out. I speak with a lot of other researchers and activists on a pretty much daily basis. What was surprising was how keen and persistent she was to speak with me.
As a social researcher, my work is all about people – and our interactions with policy, institutions, and community organisations. To do my job well, I need to speak with people, all the time. Outside of teaching, this can consist of formally conducting a research interview, sharing advice or information, or just having a chat to maintain a relationship. I’m grateful that my research been highly read and impactful: that has happened because I have worked closely with others the whole time, to inform, design, undertake, and share my studies.
The problem is that academic employment does not leave much time and space for this people work. I do it on top of my teaching and administration load, plus reading, planning, writing, and so on. So I squeeze it in: a meeting here, a blether there. It’s increasingly difficult. I have a growing list of people who want to speak with me about their project idea, the latest insider scoop on NHS policy, next steps for their organisation, or their proposed PhD or postdoc. It takes me increasingly long to reply to emails, and I’m booking meetings months in advance. I am, to put it bluntly, overwhelmed.
So that’s a normal academic problem. It’s even worse for those of us working in fields such as gender studies at a time of far-right backlash. I have started to develop a trauma response to opening my emails. I am always anticipating the next terrible news, the next round of harassment, the next legal threat from a “gender critical” scholar who has decided I am a problem. There is, sadly, a reason why my work email can no longer be found on my university profile. Like many minoritised scholars, I have removed it, making it harder for hostile individuals to contact me.
This is a systemic issue, not just a “me” issue. Universities like to say that they value community engagement and impact. But we are never really provided time for it in our workload, especially if we are part of a targeted minority group. I feel like a one-woman gender clinic, gradually amassing my own ridiculous waiting list.
Professor Verloo did not want to wait. Her numerous messages indicated that what she wanted was clearly very important. I wondered, is this actually the real Mieke Verloo? Is this part of some elaborate harassment campaign? Am I being catfished?
Eventually, I set aside a bit of time, and asked Mieke to prove her identity – which, very kindly, she did. As a leading feminist academic who has studied anti-gender movements, she got it.
I had a flexible hour the next day, so I set up a Zoom meeting, to see what I could help her with.
On receiving awards
I don’t do the work I do to win prizes. I am not saying this to be humble – I am saying this because it true, and realistic.
While some of my work is highly-read, I think the most impactful things I’m involved in tend to be invisible. And that’s okay. I organise with others, and share ideas and information with various people and groups, without any of this ever being visible to the wider world (let alone seeing academic publication). This is the work of social movements, and untold millions of us do it.
Meanwhile, on the occasions when I have sought academic awards, it has been very difficult. I’ve really struggled to land research funding, in spite of my profile, in spite of cis mentors pulling baffled faces and saying things like “I have never seen a proposal this strong fail in the first round”, over and over again. Again, this is a systemic issue. I’ve seen enough trans studies scholars go through the same to know that we are being quietly discriminated against. The same is true of other marginalised groups, such as academics who are Black and people of colour.
I have also, very occasionally, won something that feels entirely hollow. A few years ago I received an “LGBT+ Advisor Award” from NHS England. This was announced in a ceremony I wasn’t invited to, and was not publicised outside of a tweet from someone who was there. I received a small badge in the post, which is now displayed on my office pinboard, a focal point for conflicted emotion. For several years, I put enormous amounts of time and energy into working for a more trans-friendly NHS. Now, many of the very NHS commissioners and policymakers I used to meet with are mainstreaming pseudoscienceand conversion practices. It hurts.
So when I asked what I could help Mieke Verloo with, and she said, “we would like to give you a prize”, I went into shock.
Recognition and recovery
I think I have become too acculturated to the idea that there is no external recognition for trans liberation work. This is an important reminder that people outside of trans communities care about us, and care about our role in wider struggles for social justice.
I have been a part of a feminist movements my entire adult life. For many years I have campaigned for and within women’s services and women’s political spaces, and fought back against systemic sexism and misogyny. Nevertheless, as the anti-trans movement has grown more powerful, I have felt the walls closing in. Powerful forces are trying to separate women like me from our sisters in struggle.
In a world of divide-and-rule, it matters that we extend recognition to one another, in whatever ways we can. Often, this means just telling someone that they are seen, and that their work matters. It means so much when I hear this, and I try to make a practice of doing the same for others.
But Mieke Verloo is part of the FLAX Foundation, a Dutch organisation with some funding for Europe-wide feminist research awards. It seems that FLAX seeks to extend recognition in ways that are as useful as possible for prize recipients.
The recognition alone is the most powerful and beautiful thing about the Emma Goldman. I think it will provide me with greater strength going forward, a sense of togetherness with other feminist activist-researchers across Europe.
However, the award also comes with funding. So I will also be considering how best to use this to support my work going forward. My hope is to focus on finding more time and space for restoration and slowing down, for existing collaborations and research dissemination rather than starting something new. I hope to focus on writing up findings from work undertaken with colleagues in the Trans Learning Partnership, and finish my next book. I will also look into paying for services that might help me better manage my experiences of overwhelm, ideally in a way that puts money back into queer and trans communities. It is rare indeed to obtain funding for this purpose.
The Emma Goldman Award
Every year, between five and ten people receive an Emma Goldman Award. Several more can win a different prize given by the FLAX Foundation, the Snowball Award. Two weeks ago, we gathered in Vienna for an awards ceremony, and for a budgeting workshop to support the best use of the funding we have received.
It was quite overwhelming to be in a room with a group of such highly accomplished women. We came from a great range of backgrounds, in terms of nationality, heritage, culture, discipline, field, and medium. It was amazing to hear about the work everyone was doing: as academics, as journalists, as filmmakers, as comic artists – and, inevitability, as collaborators and organisers. Every one of us was involved in community-building in one way or another. And everyone seemed pretty shocked to be receiving an award, because each one of us feels the pain of oppression, and none of us do what we do to win prizes.
The award ceremony was filmed, and I’ve put a link to the youtube video at the bottom of this post. It’s worth a watch simply to hear about the exciting things every single award winner is up to. It expanded my sense of possibility, of what is happening in the world and can happen in the world, and who I might work with or be inspired by going forward.
It meant a great deal just to spend time with each other outside of the formal sessions, speaking and listening and learning together, building new friendships. This is something I have taken away from my time in Vienna, something I will sit with for a long time. I believe this is another intention of the Emma Goldman and Snowball Awards: to go beyond themselves, to support networks of research and activism, to enable new connections and collaborations across borders. In this sense, the prize couldn’t be better named.
The thing that struck me most after the award ceremony – and I mean this in a really good way – is that it made our collective achievements feel unexceptional. I don’t say that to talk down myself, or any other winner. Quite the opposite: I feel that recognising this kind of work collectively reminded me that none of us are alone, that we are part of a movement.
It is enough for any of us to simply do the work – of fighting for a better world.
When I received an invitation to speak about my research at the University of California in Davis, my initial, instinctive response was “heck no”.
It was December 2025, and the United States was looking an increasingly dangerous place to be both trans, and to be a critical scholar. The last year has seen anti-trans legislation introduced at every level across the country, while the influential Oversight Project at the Heritage Foundation and some in the FBI sought to brand trans activism as “violent extremism“. Meanwhile, attacks on academic freedom have resulted in massive funding cuts, the mass censorship of race and gender studies, and the kidnapping and detainment of students who protest the genocide in Gaza. One scholar seeking to flee the country with his family following death threats arrived at the airport gate to find their flights had been mysteriously cancelled.
Then there’s the international situation. Back in December, the US administration was beginning to escalate its rhetoric around Greenland. By January, I was genuinely concerned that a visit to California might coincide with a previously inconceivable outbreak of war between the US and its former European allies. It seemed that no possibility was off the table.
Don’t get me wrong, for all that Brits like to dump on Trump, I fear the UK is rapidly heading in a similar direction. While the dangers posted by the US administration are more blatant, thanks to its volatile and emotional rhetoric, the UK’s Labour government is pursuing a similarly authoritarian agenda. We can see this for example in deeply racist policies on migration and asylum, a crackdown on protest groups, attacks on equality and diversity policies, and the embrace of disinformation and pseudoscience in pursuit of an anti-trans agenda. And of course, our country too is entirely complicit in various conflicts and forms of state violence, including the ongoing genocide in Gaza.
Nevertheless, I have the considerable privilege of being a white UK citizen. I own a passport that enables me to freely leave and enter the country. I do not fear being detained on the UK border. I live in a diverse community where I feel safe and held by my neighbours. I am still – for now – able to maintain a university profile that openly states my commitment to feminism and equality work. And while I am increasingly afraid of facing violence at work, at least there aren’t many guns in this country.
So while I felt morally torn about potentially travelling to the USA, I was also aware that my home country is not exactly a great place. Thinking through the idea of complicity, Mijke van der Drift and Nat Raha encourage us to find “the right relation to what your position is in the world”. This “entails attending to where one is, and what one can do from that place”.
The question, then, was one of getting to California safely, and then ensuring that the trip would be worth it. What could my in-person presence offer that was not possible in my writing, or over the internet? What could I offer, and what would be worth the risk?
The Trans Freedom School
It turned out that my colleagues at UC Davis really knew what they were doing. The event I spoke at, Vital Relations, was part of the Trans Freedom School. This is a series led by Ava Kim and Christoph Hanssmann, which brings together scholars to share knowledge and ideas on a range of extremely pressing topics.
Our event specifically addressed the past, present, and future of trans health and medicine. This included how trans healthcare might be defined, whose interests have shaped the development of the field, how to address threats to trans people’s health and wellbeing, and how all of this connects to wider struggles around the pursuit of truth and defense of free inquiry. The event format was a facilitated conversation, meaning that the speakers were in conversation with one another as well as the audience. This felt extremely generative given the range of knowledge and experience in the room.
I sat on a panel with Tankut Atuk, who is doing amazing work on pathogenicity: specifically, the social contexts and power relations which make minoritised people more vulnerable to illness and disease. Understanding these things can help us learn not only how and why people are disadvantaged, but also how we can organise against such disadvantage. We explored examples from Tankut’s research with trans sex workers in Turkey, my work on trans people’s experiences of perinatal care, and Glasgow’s strong community networks. A second panel saw Kadji Amin and Jacob Moses explore histories of trans healthcare, plus debates around identity and regret.
Importantly, these conversations are not limited to academic events. The panel discussions are bring professionally filmed, as are separate studio conversations with the speakers. The idea is to produce information and teaching resources for the long term. Other events associated with the Trans Freedom School take a wider look at current debates around gender and race, at a time when discussion on these topics is increasingly censored within media and scholarship, in the US and beyond.
In short, this was indeed vital.
Continuing to foster international dialogue and the free exchange of ideas is incredibly important, especially when these things are under threat. Teaching materials that challenge norms while tackling disinformation are desperately needed. I am grateful and honoured that I was invited to be part of this work.
I will of course be sharing materials produced by the Trans Freedom School when these are ready to go online. In the meantime, I was left with a great deal to think about, which will no doubt shape my own ideas and work going forward.
The right relation
As it turned out, the US did not invade Greenland while I was in California. Instead, as I flew home, the US and Israel launched a series of airstrikes on Iran. They killed the Supreme Leader Ali Hosseini Khamenei, along with members of his family, plus hundreds of civilians. This including over 170 people at a girls’ primary school, most of whom were children. This was an immediate reminder of how the world’s greatest superpower is also a rogue state, prepared to inflict death and suffering for seemingly little reason other than flattering the macho egos of its unchecked leadership.
Seeing sickening scenes of violence unfold across the Middle East in the following days made me feel extremely powerless. It is hard to know what to do, how to respond, in the face of such evil. I’ve had enough Iranian friends that I have no sympathy with the awful regime there. But the Iranian people will not be freed from tyranny by a racist foreign power murdering schoolgirls. I remember the slow, pointless horrors of the Afghanistan and Iraq wars, with hundreds of thousands of people killed across the long years. I remember joining a million people on the streets of London to oppose this violence in 2003, only to be entirely ignored by the Labour government of the day.
In countries such as the UK and the US, what we do with our complicity in state violence depends on what tools we have, and options are in front of us. Here in Glasgow I will be supporting protests against war and arms dealers. I will be sharing information with my friends and neighbours. I will be teaching about power and its abuses in my day job. I will be voting to keep Labour as well as Reform out of Scotland in the forthcoming Holyrood election. It probably won’t feel like enough, but it does matter to do what we can.
The same goes for confronting other forms of state and corporate violence. I focus much of my research, activism, and writing on addressing discrimination and violence against trans people, because this happens to be where I have developed my skills and knowledge. The Trans Freedom School reminded me that the benefits of such skills and knowledge can cross entire oceans. It mattered for people in California to learn not only about my research, but also about the work of UK and Irish groups I spoke about, such as Trans Kids Deserve Better and Trans Harm Reduction. These groups are not working in universities or speaking to government. They are meeting with others in their community and building connections and resources, step by step, conversation by conversation.
“There are more of us publicly creating art and culture, more of us creating events and running nightclubs and playing in bands and writing essays (hi). There are more community groups providing mutual aid and support when charities and state bodies fail us. And, importantly, we are not alone.”
There are always things we can do. It is simply a matter of attending to where we are, and doing what we can from that place.
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I’m currently helping to raise money for Isaac, a young trans man I know, and his family.* In the face of enormous NHS failings, they need your help to afford trans healthcare.
There is of course already a lot of fundraising for healthcare within trans communities. This is inherently unfair for several reasons. Firstly and most importantly, it’s wrong that people struggle to receive the care they need from state-funded providers, and pretty much all trans people across the world are discriminated against in this regard (whether or not we are talking about medical transition).
Secondly, research showsthat crowfunding tends to favour individuals with more existing social capital. People trying to raise money for their care benefit from factors such as being older, transmasculine, white, and/or well-connected on social media.
However, there are cases where we simply don’t have the infrastructure or resources in place (yet?!) to support collective fundraising. A good example of this is all minors: young trans people who are more likely to face heightened discrimination and legal barriers both to accessing care in the first place, and in attempting to circumnavigate these barriers.
I do not have the capacity to make a habit of running fundraisers. In this instance, I have known both Isaac and his family for a long time. I know that they are systemically disadvantaged due to economic factors, an inability to go public and put a face to their crowdfunder, and the intersection of transphobia, racism, and various other forms of structural oppression.
Here’s some of the blurb from the crowdfunder page about why you should support Isaac:
Isaac’s story
Isaac is a Black trans kid living in England. He is an expert baker of chocolate chip cookies, loves painting and drawing sharks, and has a budding rock collection. He’s obsessed with highland cows, and knows all the words to Hamilton.
Isaac has a very supportive family who want to help him access healthcare. However, they are in low income work, and are on universal credit.
They therefore need your help to afford care for Isaac.
NHS failings
Isaac received a diagnosis of gender dysphoria from the NHS England Gender Identity and Development Service (GIDS). However, the clinical timelines were so slow at GIDs that this diagnosis came too late for him to access any medical treatment before the clinic closed in 2024.
Like many of young people, Isaac has found the new NHS trans healthcare clinic for under-18s – the Children and Young People’s Gender Service – to be traumatic and abusive. He also has no hope of being prescribed medication there.
For more information on young trans people’s terrible experiences at NHS clinics, see Dr Cal Horton’s article, “The worst thing I ever experienced”
How much money does Isaac’s family need?
We are aiming to raise up to £8000. This is to cover the cost of the following for up to three years:
Diagnostic appointments
Subscription to a private clinic
Medication costs
Blood tests
Isaac’s family may save on some of these costs if they can find a GP who will provide shared care and blood tests. However, this is not guaranteed.
If Isaac’s treatment costs less than the money raised, any remaining donations will go towards a top surgery fund for when he is an adult.
If there is still remaining money not spent on Isaac’s healthcare, the family will donate this to fundraisers for other trans kids and/or other trans people of colour.
*Isaac, of course, is not his real name.However, the image for this campaign is a self-portrait of his future self that he drew when much younger. Isn’t it amazing?
I’m currently in the middle of a busy fortnight for work-related travel (more on that soon!) But last night, I managed to make the most of a brief return to Glasgow.
The occasion was There Will Be Blood! a fundraiser at Stereo for the brilliant group Trans Healthcare Access Glasgow. They are helping to provide free laboratory testing for bloods. This is really important for trans people on HRT who are increasingly denied monitoring by GPs. If you couldn’t make it but would still like to donate, you can do so here.
The organisers put together a fantastic lineup and there was a great turnout – especially for a Monday night. It was exciting to see so much talent from within our community, and loads of people come out to support both the cause and a pretty eclectic collection of artists. And exciting for me to be a part of it, performing a DJ set as ROGD.
In which I am going for it. Photo by Onni Gust.
The night kicked off with a luscious set from singer-songwriter and drag artist Sersi. He’s probably the first person I’ve ever seen sport a Britney mic at a DIY gig, which was very cool but sadly couldn’t quite capture the sheer dynamic range of his vocals on the night. At the same time, it enabled him to completely own the stage for a series of ballads that were by turns beautiful and strange. Sersi was ably supported by a pal with a laptop, and Johanna Kirkpatrick (of trad folk bands Chanterelle and Madderam) looking dead dykey on acoustic guitar.
Next to take the stage were Deep Filff. I hadn’t had a chance to look them up before the gig so had zero idea what to expect, although they did arrive with an absolutely enormous inflatable swan. Deep Filff turned out to be a two piece, with Nadia Fiffsky playing bass and belting out epic sun-baked vocals, while Jenny Tingle methodically destroyed the drumkit. As purveyors of some of the dirtiest psychedelic grunge-punk riffs I think I’ve ever heard, they were extremely well-named. It was engrossing, hypnotic stuff. Eventually the swan came out and bounced around the audience, most likely representing a serious hazard to some of the important-looking wires and glitterball hanging from the ceiling.
Local heroes comfortnever fail to disappoint, and this evening they truly tore up the stage as the final live act of the evening. The sibling duo have a truly unique sound, with Natalie’s staccato vocals punctuating a skitterish soundscape of totally artificial electronic sounds, underpinned by Sean’s assertive drumming. It was impossible not to dance. My favourite moments came whenever the band’s weird, abrasive noise would suddenly gave way to a transcendentally beautiful synth melody for a minute or two, before we all dived collectively back into the tumult.
Finally, following a quick raffle, I was up! The gig was due to end at a remarkably civilised 10pm, so I had a tight half hour DJ set.
I’ve thought a lot since returning to DJing that the landscape of queer and feminist music and activism has completely changed. Back in the day, I used to do quite a few “Women’s Voices” DJ sets, especially for feminist events such as Reclaim The Night afterparties, and the woman-only Women’s Aid and NUS Women’s Conference discos. The idea was that every song played (sometimes for sets of up to four or five hours) had a woman on lead vocals, and ideally women also playing instruments. Finn Mackayalways used to refer to me as “feministDJRuthPearce” (all in one breath!) which was never failed to be delightful.
Unfortunately, many of the people who were only too happy to join the dancefloor for those events are now either actively backing trans-exclusionary politics and the grossest forms of transmisogyny, or otherwise failing to speak out again them. (Junior equalities minister Liv Bailey, I’m looking at you – remember when you hoped I’d DJ your wedding one day?!) It’s odd to reflect on just how normal it was for trans women to be involved in woman-only politics spaces in the UK, given the extremity of the post-2017 moral panic.
Anyway, I digress.
Another thing that has happened over the last decade is the enormous influx of excellent trans artists to both underground and mainstream music scenes. We live in an age where I listened to jasmine.4.tfor the first time because my mum told me she’d done a good interview with Craig Charles on BBC 6 Music(!) So, while I’d like to do more Women’s Voices DJ sets in the future, for the first time it felt realistic to put together a Trans Voices set, with a mixture of tunes fronted by trans women and men, and/or non-binary, genderqueer, or genderfluid people, that I could reasonably expect a large number of people in the audience to be familiar with.
So, here’s what I played:
Shopping – The Hype My Chemical Romance – Teenagers 100 gecs – mememe SOPHIE – Immaterial underscores – Locals (Girls Like Us) [with gabby start] Kae Tempest – Move Ada Rook – BURY YOURSELF Janelle Monáe – Make Me Feel jasmine.4.t – Guy Fawkes Tesco Dissociation G.L.O.S.S. – Outlaw Stomp Against Me! – True Trans Soul Rebel
Obviously I could have kept going a lot longer, but I’ve got to say, it was one heck of a half hour. I have such enormous love for everyone who joined me to dance their arse off on a Monday night. And if you’d like me to DJ your event – I’m officially back behind the decks, so do get in touch!
Dr Ruth Pearce 