For the Cause Not the Movement

I came out in 2009, at the age of 17. Things were quite different back then, and I later realised how fortunate I was to have that time as a point of reference.

For several years, I had absorbed the widespread mantra that "trans women are women" without much thought. By 2015, this mantra was everywhere, and I found myself defensively supporting it. 

During this period, I even signed a petition to prevent Germaine Greer from speaking at my university, Cardiff University (yes, that talk), because of her views about trans-identified males.

So, when I began organising events, it was natural for me to form a group for all LGBT people, operating under the belief that we were all in this struggle together. Alongside this group, I created lesbian-focused groups.

I organised twice weekly events, including socials. These events were free, and designed as much for my own enjoyment as for others. This approach quickly filled a void and gained over a hundred weekly attendees. Later, inspired by my own positive experience at a lesbian speed dating event, I decided to organise similar events. 

However, a shift occurred as men who identified as women began to participate more frequently. As their numbers grew, the ideological landscape around us seemed to intensify as well. 

Over the years, I noticed a pattern amongst ‘queer’ people who saw our event listings online. I now realise that many of these people were actually heterosexual yet sought to be different. This led to pressure to adopt language that, in hindsight, felt coercive. For instance, if I labelled our gatherings as lesbian/bi events, the comments section would quickly fill with criticisms about exclusionary language. Initially, I wasn’t aware that there was an alternative and, wanting to avoid portraying our events as unwelcoming or for them to be negatively perceived, I felt compelled to give in. This feeling of coercion continued even after I peaked, largely because it took time for both my understanding of my views and my feelings towards them, to fully evolve.

It was almost six years ago, on the 8th of July, 2018, that I encountered a turning point—the moment I peaked at London Pride 2018. Up until that day, the term "TERF" was to me synonymous with bigotry. 

This moment was not just a revelation; it was deeply emotional and felt as though I was rediscovering and reconnecting to something that I had missed, without even realising I was missing it.

Peaking presented a problem for me though. The events and groups that I had developed, through a process of creating, expanding, merging, and sometimes closing various splinter groups, had grown significantly. The collective membership had surpassed 10,000 people then, and now it exceeds 20,000, making it the largest LGB Meetup.com network in the UK.

The reasons behind this growth aren’t completely clear to me, but I suspect it was a blend of a few things. One is the 'keep going until you find a way' mindset that I've always lived by. Failure doesn’t scare me, no matter how the circumstances feel at a given moment. In this case, it manifested in continuously testing different strategies and forming splinter groups which I later closed or handed over to others. I also enjoyed meeting new people, without becoming overly involved in the role of host or central figure. But mostly, I enjoyed building, developing and watching the positive impact these spaces had.

After reaching my tipping point, I gradually withdrew from organising the broader LGBT group, unable to tolerate what was happening. My attention therefore shifted to focus fully on the splinter groups that I had been running alongside. Although these groups also faced challenges with men identifying as women, the issues were less pronounced there.

Given the network’s size and visibility, remaining under the radar was not an option. The consequences of banning trans-identified males were clear and astronomical: revealing my views would lead to personal and professional destruction, including the loss of every event, and the disintegration of every group. I also knew the intense uproar from trans activists this decision would trigger, which would spread far beyond my event organising.

As expected, this position led to severe backlash from thousands involved in these groups, the majority of whom did not share my stance. This division was no doubt due to the age of the people who attended the events, with most being under the age of 40.

These events and groups had brought happiness to many, myself included. Naturally, I didn’t want this all to end over one or fewer (but progressively more) trans-identified males among over a hundred weekly attendees. Friendships were formed, relationships blossomed, and we even celebrated two marriages (I’ll say it again, 'Beat that, Cilla!'). So, I chose to focus on the positive impact of the events.

This led to the question: how do you choose between personal beliefs and the threat of widespread outrage, cancellation, and professional and personal consequences? My problem was rooted in a desire to maintain these spaces and not turn my life upside down. My intention was never to be an activist.

Taking actions that no one else will attracts widespread criticism, hostility and attacks from those who disagree with you. It will turn you into an activist whether you want to be one or not. This is why those with something of value—those who can make a meaningful statement—choose to remain silent. If your desires lean towards financial gain rather than taping shut your letterbox or being forced to move home—then I would advise against making yourself a target by openly adopting a gender-critical stance, particularly when you stand to lose that which is valuable to you.

You will lose, there is no doubt about this. You will find yourself forced to take actions once unimaginable, all to address the repercussions of your initial decision. This cycle of response becomes unavoidable, spiralling into a mission far removed from anything you might have anticipated. The measures required to mitigate or repair this will only further distance you from your original position. The consequences of your stance become both the cause and effect of further challenges.

Taking a stand in this manner inevitably draws widespread attention, extending past the anticipated circle of trans activists and into the broader ‘movement’—a sphere I had only skimmed the surface of until I chose to take a stance that others do not. In doing so, you will make an indirect statement. The surge in visibility inevitably primes you perfectly for ‘trashing’ within a movement, a paradoxical consequence that originates from the losses you consciously accepted by acting on your convictions, and from the decisions you find yourself forced to make to mend the repercussions of that action.

In my next post, I’ll write more about this process.

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