Some thoughts on the Levy Review

On 18 December, NHS England quietly published the report of Dr David Levy’s review of adult gender clinics. The report’s official title is the massively dry Operational and delivery review of NHS adult gender dysphoria clinics in England, but it’s commonly referred to the “Levy Review” within community spaces.

Prior to its publication, there were some concerns about the Levy Review being a sort of Cass Review for adults, leading to further massive restrictions in trans people’s access to healthcare. I witnessed active catastrophising in some quarters, with social media posts calling medication stockpiling. I don’t think this kind of rollback was ever on the cards with Levy, but I do understand why people were concerned. Trans people’s trust in the NHS and political processes is – justifiably – at rock bottom.

There were also a minority who hoped that the Levy Review might result in significant improvements to how trans people are treated by the NHS in England. I don’t think that was ever realistic either.

In reality, Levy does acknowledge some of the problems with English gender clinics, focusing especially on capacity issues, inefficiencies, and long waiting times. It offers a series of recommendations relating largely to the practical operation and delivery of gender services (the hint is in the title!) QueerAF asked me what I thought about it for their coverage of the Levy Review, and I told them this:

“Faced with the sinking Titanic of trans healthcare in England, the Levy Review suggests we rearrange the deckchairs,” Dr Ruth Pearce, a transgender health expert and Senior Lecturer in Community Development at the University of Glasgow, tells QueerAF. Levy's report offers a limited, technocratic response to the ongoing crisis, recommending a range of bureaucratic measures to improve the efficiency of the current system.


These measures may still result in a few improvements. NHS England hope Levy’s recommendations will contribute to “clinical effectiveness, safety, and experience”. I am not entirely convinced. But perhaps the waiting lists can be a bit shorter and fairer, especially with the opening of new clinics and introduction of a national waiting list.

Why is the Levy Review like this?

Levy did not truly seek to understand, let alone confront, the real scope of the problem in trans healthcare services, sticking instead to the very narrow scope of the brief provided by NHS England. Deeper issues he ignored include open discrimination from healthcare practitioners, as well as gatekeeping, pathologisation, and dehumanisation baked into the design of the gender clinics. These all harm patients, while also wasting clinical time and resources.

When I started my PhD on trans healthcare in 2010, such issues were not widely understood outside of certain trans community settings. That is no longer the case.

There have been multiple reviews and consultations undertaken by NHS England over the past 15 years, including in 2012, 2014-2015, and 2017-2019. There was also a review undertaken by the House of Commons Women and Equalities Committee in 2015.

Then there’s the research I undertook for that PhD, later published in my book Understanding Trans Health. Here, I argued that long waiting lists for gender clinics are not simply a result of underfunding or bureaucratic inefficiencies, but also an inevitable outcome of the gatekeeping system. By positioning trans healthcare as a specialist matter, and forcing patients to prove over and over again in psychiatric evaluations that they are “really” trans, you create unnecessary roadblocks and bottlenecks for care.

There have been a lot of other studies undertaken since. The most notable might be the massive, rigorous, and extremely detailed final report of the Integrating Care for Trans Adults (ICTA) project, published in 2024. This was funded by the UK government through the National Institute for Health Research, and has been roundly ignored by NHS England.

There are also a growing number of popular analyses: blog posts, news stories, podcasts, and video essays. One prominent example is I Emailed My Doctor 133 Times: The Crisis In the British Healthcare System, by Philosophy Tube, which has been seen by over 2.5 million people to date.


All this research and commentary highlights those same problems ignored by Levy: discrimination, gatekeeping, pathologisation, and dehumanisation.

My feeling is that neither NHS England nor Levy were interested in these issues. In fact, they are not really interested in understanding trans people at all.

It is therefore no surprise that Levy not only ignores widely-documented problems, but also repeats factually inaccurate claims, such as that the growth in patient demand for gender clinics is “not well understood”. Quite aside from what we have learned from all of the research and commentary noted above, this growth was forecast back in the 2000s by the education and advocacy organisation GIRES, in a study funded by none other than the Home Office.


The really bad stuff (and how to protect your data)

For all the limits of the Levy Review, I feel most of the recommendations are somewhat positive and may help people a bit. On balance, it’s mostly okay.

However, there are a few real points for concern.

Firstly, Levy argues that a first assessment for medical interventions should always be undertake by a psychiatrist or clinical psychologist. As all the research on trans healthcare services has shown time and time again, this is both unnecessary and unhelpful. It compounds the pathologisation of trans people, wrongly positions trans healthcare as a “specialist” matter, and creates expensive bottlenecks for treatment.

Secondly, Levy insists that gender clinic patients should be referred by GPs, and should not be able to self-refer. This is intended to help with the problem of patients ending up on a waiting list with no information for clinical staff on who they are, what they are looking for, and what their healthcare needs might be. However, the recommendation ignores the widespread issue of transphobic GPs refusing to provide referrals, as well as the fact that not everyone will have a GP (see, for example, the fact that trans people disproportionately experience homelessness, or that we are more likely to avoid healthcare providers due to justified fears of abuse). The problem Levy is trying to address could have been tackled in a more sensitive way, for example through NHS England providing a short referral form that prospective patients can fill in when seeking an appointment at a gender clinic.

Finally, there is the issue of future research. Citing Alice Sullivan’s transphobic report on sex and gender, Levy calls for more data collection on patient outcomes. Here Levy fails to acknowledge the urgent need to build trust before trans patients can be confident the NHS will not misuse our data. Moreover, as Trans Safety Network have noted, NHS England have committed to addressing this through expanding the role of the National Research Oversight Board for Children and Young People’s Gender Services. Trans Safety Network report that the board includes members associated with anti-trans medical groups, including the Society for Evidence-Based Medicine (SEGM), who are listed as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center, and CAN-SG. It’s little surprise therefore that the National Research Oversight Board has recommended that clinicians working with young trans people attend SEGM and CAN-SG conferences, ensuring the further spread of transphobic disinformation, pseudoscience, and hate.

Trans Safety Network therefore recommend that trans patients in England opt out of their healthcare data being used for research. They provide the following advice on opting out:

This can be done via the following links, the first to stop GP records being shared and the second to stop secondary care records being shared.

We also suggest you email your GIC the following to ensure your opt-out is clear and ask to have a note of this added to your care record. I do not give my permission for any aspect of my patient data to be submitted to, or collected for, the purpose of any research or non local audit without my express permission in writing being obtained in advance.

Emails should include your name, DOB and NHS Number to assist your GIC admin in finding your record. If you have been referred but not been seen by a GIC, you can still contact the GIC you were referred to.


Could it be better?

The failings of the Levy Review are not inevitable. There are numerous international models of better practice. For a strong example, see the Professional Association for Transgender Health Aotearoa’s 2025 Guidelines for Gender Affirming Care in Aotearoa New Zealand. This recommends treatment under an “informed consent” model. Here is some of their guidance on this for adult patients:

Being transgender is not a mental illness, and it does not impair capacity to consent to treatment. If a doctor or nurse practitioner has sufficient knowledge, skill and professional scope to initiate GAHT [gender-affirming hormone therapy] in an adult patient:

– There is no requirement for all people to be assessed by a mental health professional prior to starting GAHT

– For many transgender adults, GAHT can be initiated in primary care, without the involvement of secondary or tertiary care.

But we need not even look overseas for better. The Welsh Gender Service has seen a growing shift towards the provision of hormone therapy for trans people in primary care settings, supported through close collaboration with community organisations and GP practices. This has proven to provide a better experience for trans patients and has improved the efficiency of the service from an NHS perspective. The ICTA reportdescribes what this looks like in practice.

Case Study 4 in Chapter 4 reports on the establishment and initial development of regional primary care clinics, spread across Wales, which take responsibility for prescribing and monitoring HRT for trans adults following assessment at the specialist gender clinic. This is the most significant initiative we studied to address lack of integration between an assessing gender service and arrangements for prescribing and monitoring HRT. The key features are as follows. Their effectiveness and efficiency would appear to be of wider relevance to other gender services and NHS primary care commissioners.

The regional clinics were largely staffed by GPs, located within established GP practices and funded by the local NHS. They took responsibility for prescribing hormones, monitoring blood tests and titrating doses immediately following assessment, aiming to pass service users on to their usual practice after around 12 months, on the basis that their doses and prescriptions would by then be stable. This arrangement avoids the costly and damaging difficulties in communication between GICs and primary care practices over blood tests and dosage changes, experienced by many people attending other GICs. It also frees up gender specialists to devote more time to assessments, rather than review appointments for people already on hormones. Local clinicians, however, worked in an integrated way with their specialist colleagues, attending joint training on trans health care, and holding regular joint clinical consultations.

Further advantages emerging from this arrangement include the regional clinics rapidly becoming established as having GPs confident in prescribing under shared care with a GIC, whether based on a full GIC assessment or on the basis of a ‘harm reduction’ bridging prescription. These more knowledgeable GPs can then advise and educate colleagues in their own and neighbouring practices. Above all, both service users and GPs involved in these regional clinics were enthusiastic about how they brought HRT for trans people into the mainstream of primary care. Doctors in the regional clinics helped service users deal with a range of health issues, and hormone therapy came to be experienced as part of primary care, rather than something specialised, difficult, or in any way stigmatised.

The Welsh model is still far from perfect. However, it proves that there is no need for NHS England to keep asking the same tired questions and presenting the same tired answers. Yes, we deserve better than the Levy Review: but more importantly, positive change is both realistic and possible.

Podcast: Who Who Is Wes Streeting and Why Is He Like That?

Last month I returned to the fabulous Red Medicine podcast to talk all things Wes Streeting. I joined the socialist writer Jonas Marvin and host Sam Kelly to discuss the UK Secretary of State for Health and Social Care’s political background, possible motivations, and current challenges.

Red Medicine always offers a great deep dive into health-related topics of the day. Streeting’s alignment with transphobic pseudoscience and conversion proponents means that obviously I had a lot to say about his impact on trans healthcare. However, our conversation was offered a great opportunity to grapple with the wider context of Streeting’s ideology and actions, discussing wider matters such as class, party politics, and trade unionism: highly relevant given current discourse around the proposed strike by resident doctors! I also talk a little about my encounters with Streeting in the 2000s, back when I was a campaigner with the National Union of Students’ LGBT and Women’s Campaigns.

You can listen to Red Medicine through all the major podcast platforms – or through the link below.


You can also hear me talking about the Cass Review on a previous episode of the podcast in June 2024.

Activist pasts and imagined futures

Back in October I caught the train down to Coventry to visit my old stomping grounds at the University of Warwick. The occasion was the 20th Anniversary of Warwick Anti-Sexism Society (WASS), a student campaigning group at the university. Technically WASS was 21 this year, but whoever let technicalities get in the way of a good celebration?

Co-hosted by the Centre for the Study of Women and Gender, the event brought current WASS members, including WASS president Izie Lopez-Scott and Students’ Union sabbatical officer Ananya Sreekumar, together with former students and feminist academics, including founders Sam Lyle and Cath Lambert, and early member Maria do Mar Pereira.

As I arrived on campus, it occurred to me that I must have been one of longest-running members of WASS. In contrast to the likes of Sam and Cath, I never played an organising role, instead on volunteering my time with Warwick Pride (the LGBTUA+ society), Rocksoc (for the metalheads), and later also Bandsoc (for whom I still occasionally judge the university’s annual Warwick Battle of the Bands). Nevertheless, after originally joining WASS way back in the academic year of 2005-2006, I maintained an on-and-off membership through my undergraduate, masters, and PhD degrees, finally leaving in 2016. During that time I attended numerous talks, workshops, protests, and occupations as a member of WASS, and joined fellow members as a delegate to Women’s Conferences hosted by the National Union of Students.

I wasn’t quite sure how it would feel to participate in the anniversary event. I anticipated it would be somewhat nostalgic.

Certainly the event served me nostalgia in spades. A WASS exhibition featured numerous t-shirts, hoodies, zines, posters, and pamphlets produced by the society from 2004 to the present day. I brought along a couple of zines from the 2010s – Sam brought along a huge amount of old material, much of which dated back to my undergraduate days. In a panel discussion, we reflected together on the context in which WASS was formed, why it felt so difficult and important to name yourself as a feminist in the early 2000s, and how the society’s early campaigns reflected the priorities and debates of the day (lads’ mags! feminism for men! Page 3!)


But my main takeaway was the way in which our actions can echo through time, informing and influencing others in ways we might never be aware of.

When Sam and Cath founded WASS, they were focused on the present. They didn’t think much about how it might provide a way into activism and feminist thought for hundreds of people over two decades. Looking at the exhibition, speaking in a session about what had changed and what happened, it felt clear to me that we are living in a world shaped hugely be the world of 00s feminism, even amidst an enormous misogynist backlash.

There is something here about the complexity of wins, and the importance of work over time. It is not simply the case that the world gets better or worse. At the event, we discussed the growing cultural impact of violent misogynists from the manosphere. Sam highlighted how rates of femicide remain extremely high, half a century after the second-wave feminist movement kicked into gear. Equally, we reflected on how there is far more mainstream acknowledgement, understanding, and support for survivors domestic violence than there used to be even 20 years ago. This matters: it provides more people with a way out, a route into rebuilding their lives with the support of their families and communities.

Similarly, even as racist rhetoric dominates mainstream political discourse, feminist movements have increasingly learned from the difficult discussions around intersectionality that have taken place across years, decades. Meanwhile, other social movements have got better at acknowledging sexism, and embracing feminist ideals. WASS was originally an all-white, all-cis, non-disabled collective, which struggled to build alliances with other student liberation groups. This has not been the case for years. Key issues for student feminists at Warwick in 2025 include the genocide in Gaza, and fighting back against the university’s attempts to implement anti-trans policies. Warwick’s liberation movements frequently collaborate and cross-advertise events, and current students described how activists were often involved simultaneously in anti-sexist, anti-racist, and pro-queer groups.

A young man at the event asked me how campaigners stay motivated when there is so much rollback. I said I was inspired by the fact that we can still help people, that we can still create ideas and resources that it turns out are useful to others years, decades later. This was illustrated perfectly by the most unexpected story I heard that day, from an early career academic who thanked me for my old writing on TeachHigher.

A decade ago, TeachHigher was the University of Warwick’s attempt to advance insecure employment on campus, and undermine trade unionism. Branded as “a more consistent approach to the employment of hourly paid staff who work in different departments”, TeachHigher would provide a framework specifically for casual teaching contracts, offering an alternative to full-time, salaried lectureships. As a “wholly-owned subsidiary” of Warwick, it would technically be a separate company, while still funneling profits directly back into the university. This meant workers contracted through TeachHigher would be unable to benefit from collective bargaining with the University and College Union (UCU). The intention was to expand the model already used by Unitemps, another Warwick-owned subsidiary which “offers flexible staffing solutions” (often zero-hour contracts) across the higher education sector.

An enormous struggle over TeachHigher happened in 2015. The scheme was pushed aggressively by management, and opposed vociferously by hourly-paid teaching staff: the very people TeachHigher intended to contract. In subsequent years, I spoke and wrote about how this model for internal outsourcing was defeated through collective action on the part of students and staff. Workers such as myself carefully scrutinised the university’s proposals, identified pressure points within our own departments, found allies amongst more securely employed faculty, and organised accordingly. We effectively took over our local UCU branch, while also planning outside of its structures. Loopholes in existing casualised contracts enabled us to circumvent the UK’s anti-union laws, through moves such as departmental teaching boycotts. Multiple departments declared that they would refuse to participate in the TeachHigher pilot. The final straw came when UCU announced a national demonstration on a University of Warwick open day, which would have been an enormous embarrassment to the institution.

The successful campaign against TeachHigher brought student groups such as WASS and Warwick Anti-Racism Society together with staff bodies such as UCU. Due to the unequal impacts of casualisation, we recognised – as my late, great colleague Christian Smith put it – that “TeachHigher is sexist, and TeachHigher is racist”. We built on tactics developed in previous years. For example, the idea of protesting on an open day was developed by the 2013 Protect the Public University campaign, which grew out of the 2011 Occupy Warwick encampment. WASS members, naturally, were involved in both.

The defeat of TeachHigher was an enormous win for campaigners. Not only was the scheme withdrawn: we also negotiated pay rises, better terms and conditions for all casualised staff, and pathways towards more secure contracts for some.

Photograph of trees with yellowed leaves lining a road on an autumnal day

Yet by 2025, there was very little institutional memory of TeachHigher. For all that we won, many teaching staff remained on casualised contracts, and Unitemps continued to prosper. Meanwhile, the vast majority of those involved in the struggle have moved on, to live and work elsewhere. The university was largely under new management, and there had been an enormous turnover within human resources as well as student bodies. For those who even know the dispute happened, it can be hard to find concrete information. News platforms delete old stories, and enshittification makes it harder to use search engines to find those that remain.

At the WASS Anniversary, I learned that a key source of information on TeachHigher today can be found in my past blog posts.

Old wins echo down the years. Temporary gains are gains nonetheless. I would guess that every one of us who benefited from the TeachHigher defeat is better off now as a result. Personally, I found myself in a better place financially to finish my PhD and continue an academic career. I also learned an enormous amount about the practicalities of collective organising. I know I have draw on those gains repeatedly over the last decade to continue supporting others in turn.

Even if pay rises for casualised staff were eroded over time, the fact that we fought and that we won can continue to inspire workers facing similar struggles. Just as TeachHigher was inspired by Protect the Public University, which was inspired by Occupy Warwick, which was inspired by the Red Warwick occupations of the 1970s as well as the US-led Occupy Movement, the Spanish Indignados Movement, and the Arab Spring. These long influences don’t just happen: they rely on people writing things down, saving artifacts, and remembering together.

The funny thing is, I had no idea anyone might find my old blog posts on TeachHigher useful after so many years. I was one small part of a far larger movement, and have been involved in so many other campaigns since. Nevertheless, through chronicling events it turns out that I created a resource that remains useful to this day.

At the WASS Anniversary, I was reminded how important it is to commemorate our local histories of activism, and to share what we have learned along the way. Social progress is neither linear, nor guaranteed. But if we imagine there might be a better future around the corner, and act accordingly, then we might change the world in ways we cannot possibly anticipate.

Photo of a poster with bold text and a small picture of a sapling plant. Text reads as follows "By choosing a feminist politics, you are making a commitment to a world that has not yet been built" - Lola Olufemi. Warwick Anti Sexism Society. Campaigning for gender liberation. @warwickantisexismsociety