Setting the Record Straight: Advocating for Compassion and Nuance in a Phobic World
⏱️ 36 min read | 🎧 Audio version below
I want to set the record straight about something: I am trans-affirming.
It has been brought to my attention directly and indirectly that some people, particularly in ex-fundamentalist and atheist spaces, think I’m transphobic.
Are you transphobic? Isn’t Alice Greczyn transphobic?
To be transphobic means to have a phobia of transgender people. I think it may be helpful to look at some definitions of phobia before continuing.
pho•bia noun. 1 exaggerated fear of 2 intolerance or aversion for
— Merriam-Webster Dictionarypho•bia noun. 1 a fear, horror, strong dislike, or aversion; esp. an extreme or irrational fear or dread aroused by a particular object or circumstance
— Oxford English Dictionarytrans•pho•bia noun. 1 harmful or unfair things a person does based on a fear or dislike of transgender and non-binary people
— Cambridge Dictionary
I am not afraid of transgender people. I do not have an aversion toward or horror of them. I’ve not done harmful or unfair things based on a dislike for transgender and non-binary people.
Before addressing why people think I’m transphobic, and because I feel the need to make this public declaration so people can reference it during assessments of judgment—not just about me but about anyone associated with me—let it be known:
I think all people are deserving of dignity, equal opportunity, and basic human rights. I think transgender people, like anyone else, deserve love, inclusion, and respect; freedom, protection, and joy; empathy, understanding, and fairness.
My silence on transgender topics has become more of a liability than my voice. So, if people are going to say the worst about me anyway, I’d like it referenced in my own words.
Why Am I Writing This—and Why Now?
I’ve sat on writing about this topic for over three years. What I used to think was the wisdom of keeping my mouth shut has turned into a costly vagueness that is not only affecting me—it’s starting to affect dear friends of mine, particularly in the religious trauma recovery space. I’ve been vague about my stances surrounding transgender topics. As a result, I’ve allowed others to fill in my silence and imagine the worst. That’s on me.
Accusations of my alleged transphobia have recently cost me professional opportunities and personal friendships. Worse, I fear these accusations are now jeopardizing the livelihood and reputations of my loved ones. I worry for their jobs and safety. Their association with me potentially threatens their careers and hard-earned sense of community.
I am also tired of holding back my concerns and feeling like a coward in the name of prudence.
I cannot possibly defend or dissect every reason people think I’m transphobic. I will address what seem to be the most significant pieces of evidence used against me since many have requested such clarification. This may be more likely to fan flames than put them out but I’m choosing to publish this anyway, as I’d rather be criticized for my own words than someone else’s. This piece may also allow friends and colleagues to point to my words rather than trying to defend me with their own.
My ultimate motive?
I am advocating for public discourse and respectful disagreement, without the penalties of disfellowship and reputational smearing. I am advocating for compassion and understanding. I am advocating for reason, freethought, and the courage to learn for oneself. I am advocating for all people, trans and cisgender alike, to have safety, fairness, and the freedom to experience love and joy in whatever consensual ways they desire.
Why Do People Think I’m Transphobic?
I won’t play dumb and pretend not to know why people think I’m transphobic—worse, a TERF, a Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. I’ve publicly shared the works of people who have also been labeled these. Therefore, I am guilty of whatever these people have been accused of, whether the accusations were valid in the first place or not.
My alleged transphobia may boil down to two of my primary concerns: sympathy for sexual assault and domestic violence survivors with PTSD symptoms that are triggered by hormonally male traits; and, the erasure of femalehood from language.
Is wanting to be called a woman and not a person who menstruates hateful?
Is wanting to be called a mother and not a birthing parent intolerant?
Does understanding the concern that some cismen might pretend to be transwomen in order to access women’s spaces make one irrationally afraid of all transwomen?
I don’t think so. The fear is not directed toward transwomen but to cismen with malicious intent. What makes this situation complex is that, unfortunately, some will look at transwomen with suspicion.
Is this fair? No. Is this understandable? Yes.
My Sympathy for Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence Survivors
PTSD isn’t fair. Just as some war veterans cannot help that firecrackers may unfairly trigger their PTSD symptoms, some sexual assault survivors cannot help that penises may unfairly trigger theirs. It is understandable to me why many women who are assaulted by the men in their lives, and often from a young age, are leery of Adam’s apple throats, broad shoulders and muscled arms, and penises. If their association with these traits is fear and violence, why would they not be triggered by seeing them in a shelter where they’ve come to seek safety?
Transgender people are reportedly four times more likely than cisgender people to experience violent victimization including rape, sexual assault, and aggravated or simple assault. This is unacceptable and deserving of all attempts to help prevent future attacks and provide support for survivors. I know some will think these claims are exaggerated. I encourage you to explore the basis for these statistics further—I’ve learned a lot from Human Rights Watch, GLAAD, and Forge Forward.
It’s worth noting that I cannot find statistics on how many transgender versus cisgender women are forcibly penetrated with a penis. Such instances fall under the broad category of sexual assault, which also includes groping and nonconsensual kissing. When we see statistics about sexual assault toward anyone, we must remember that broad definitions may not take into account the weapon—in many cases, a penis—used to commit violence. This is significant because it is penises and other biologically male markers that are triggering to many women, cis- and transgender alike, in DV shelters, prisons, restrooms, and other women’s-only spaces.
2021 was the most deadly year for transgender people with 375 murdered globally, according to Transgender Europe. 70% of these murders occurred in Central and South America. 9 in 10 of these victims were transwomen and most of them were Black and migrant.
2021 was also a deadly year for cisgender women and girls with 81,100 murdered globally, according to the United Nations. Over half were intentionally killed by intimate partners or other family members. (For those wondering, the UN defines these victims as female. Female is reflective of sex while girl or woman is reflective of gender. Transgender girls and women, assigned male at birth, were not counted in this study of femicide.)
These reports tell us that 90 transgender women and 44,605 cisgender women were killed at home. Which do you think make up the majority of those seeking help in domestic violence shelters?
Why Some Taboo Concerns Are Valid
Instances of men claiming to be transwomen in order to commit acts of violence in women’s spaces are extremely rare. That doesn’t mean these instances should be mitigated—or denied altogether.
Every time someone sends me the article from Time magazine titled “Why LGBT Advocates Say Bathroom ‘Predators’ Argument Is a Red Herring,” I send back the article from Toronto Sun titled “Predator Who Claimed to Be Transgender Declared Dangerous Offender.” It describes how Christopher Hambrook, who claimed to be a transgender woman named Jessica, sexually assaulted two women while living in two different women’s shelters. Hambrook also served four years in prison for sexually abusing a five-year-old girl. While on bail for that crime, he raped another woman.
Of course, it’s entirely possible that Hambrook is a transwoman and not impersonating one. Transgender people are capable of committing crimes, too. It would be dehumanizing to say otherwise.
Because I know some will say that Hambrook is one person responsible for these few incidents, here is the case of Isla Bryson who was found guilty of two accounts of raping women. She committed these rapes while living as a man named Adam Graham, transitioning after she was accused and awaiting sentencing. She hoped to be sent to a women’s prison.
Here is the case of Katie Dolatowski, a transwoman who sexually assaulted a 10-year-old girl in a grocery store restroom. Dolatowski admitted to, “... grabbing the youngster by her face and forcing her into the cubicle before demanding she take her trousers off at the store.” Dolatowski allegedly threatened to stab the girl’s mother during the assault and this came one month after she filmed a 12-year-old girl on the toilet at another supermarket.
The incidents go on: Stephanie Jacob Green, who sexually assaulted a woman in a shelter; Alicia Gray who was arrested for assaulting a teenage boy in a Walmart bathroom; Lexie-Rose Crawford who raped an underage girl with her penis.
I could continue. I think you get the point. If you’re wondering why more “credible,” mainstream sources aren’t covering these stories, I think you also know the answer.
When I try on the perspective that a fear of cismen pretending to be transwomen is transphobic, I can understand it. I don’t have this fear but it makes total sense to me that some people are afraid—phobic—of transgender people because they are unable to discern the harmless from those who might be predators in disguise.
What I cannot understand is why, in these situations, such literal transphobia is looked at with contempt rather than compassion.
Inconvenient Nuances and Complex Solutions
Many people have been assaulted with a penis—men, women, and non-binary alike.
The number of transgender people raped in prison and other places of incarceration, like migrant detainment centers, is nothing short of horrifying. Transwoman Ashley Diamond was raped 14 times in a men’s prison by fellow inmates and staff. She attempted suicide. It is tragedies like hers that compel many to advocate for transwomen to be housed in women’s prisons.
Yet there are also cases of incarcerated ciswomen raped by transwomen, like this anonymous female prisoner who says she was raped by a transgender inmate.
Whether prisons, shelters, public restrooms, sports, or other spaces that have been traditionally divided by gender, issues of inclusion, safety, and fairness are some of the most contentious that policymakers face today—especially since the U.S. rate of transgender youth has doubled in the last five years.
Should a transwoman with a penis be housed in a women’s space? If yes, does that endanger women who do not have penises, nor an equitable physical strength that might leave the majority of them more easily overpowered? If no, does it endanger the transwoman to house her in a men’s space, where she is highly vulnerable to assault and harassment?
The answer to both of these is yes. Ciswomen may be endangered by transwomen inmates and transwomen prisoners are endangered by being housed among men.
Should transwomen be required to have penectomies—surgical removal of their penises—before being admitted to women’s spaces? Not everyone is a medically sound candidate for surgery, and I personally think it would be inhumane to require genital assessments for anyone seeking safety in a shelter.
I don’t have all of the answers to these complex questions. I merely think we should be able to talk about them with mutual respect and compassion for all sides of this public debate. This is impossible when people resort to condemnation, mockery, and vilification—and dangerous acts of harassment and incitement to physical violence.
The nuanced complexities surrounding transgender topics in a largely gendered world are so very understandable to me. The fact that I am willing to acknowledge these complexities publicly makes me transphobic in many people’s eyes, because I do not immediately and thoroughly conform to all tenets of trans-rights activism. I have questions and concerns. I understand where many so-called TERFs are coming from, just as I understand where many trans-rights activists are coming from.
Mutual Understanding May Help Lead to Solutions—But We Must Risk Vilification
What is so wrong with understanding? Why are we not allowed to comprehend multiple things at once? Why can’t more than one thing be true? Why can’t we work toward shelters for transwomen and ciswomen—not to mention the desperate need for men’s shelters? Why can’t we have transwomen’s prisons and women’s prisons?
I am aware that many trans-rights activists say that to have separate shelters, prisons, and the like for transgendered people would be exclusion. Unaffirming care. Denial that transwomen are women. Which is the greater priority here? The safety of all people to be housed and receive care? Or the hurt feelings of not being included? I’ll err on the side of physical safety over potentially hurt feelings, for these deeper hurts cannot be addressed until our nervous systems are calmed by physical safety.
The potential solution of more transgender spaces would be costly. It already is, as many businesses and institutions have invested in single-stall restrooms and urinal installations to accommodate all-gender toilet needs. Just as accommodating women with the right to vote and enter the workplace meant that more money was spent on resources to facilitate their participation in civil life, can we not accommodate trans and cisgender people by spending more on resources to ensure their right to safety?
Places of refuge and nakedness aside, there are instances when the inclusion of transgender people in gendered spaces is less an issue of safety and more an issue of fairness. Women’s sports is one hotly debated example—and it’s worth noting that nakedness is a common occurrence in sports, too. Some ciswomen athletes are uncomfortable sharing locker rooms with transwomen athletes.
Transwomen have physical advantages in certain sports that come with being born male. Sometimes these advantages may be offset by hormone therapies and other medications. Yet hormones will not have a significant effect on physical traits like bone length, which is advantageous in sports such as track and field, basketball, and swimming, to name a few.
Instead of competing by gender, can we not at least talk about individuals and teams competing by ability level? Or weight class? Average stats and biometrics? Sports like wrestling and the UFC already do this. Some point out there are not enough competitive-level transgender athletes to warrant making these changes. Others suggest allowing transgender people to compete but not win, or allowing only one transgender athlete per team. Still others refuse to entertain the idea of any compromises at all.
In the words of Joanna Harper, a competitive transgender woman runner and PhD researcher of transgender athletic performance:
“The debate over transgender athletes is often framed as one between two opposing sides. One side suggests that…if women are to succeed in sport, then transwomen must be banned from the women’s category… The other side suggests that transwomen are women, belong in women’s sport without conditions; proclaiming that trans rights are human rights and are not up for debate… As a competitive transgender woman runner and a PhD researcher of transgender athletic performance, I would like to advocate for a third or middle way.”
The solutions to issues of transgender inclusion and cisgender safety and fairness may be expensive and complicated. But there are potential solutions. I don’t know why we’re not talking about them more except to assume three reasons:
Most people haven’t thought of such solutions.
People have thought of solutions but to even mention them, as I am now, is dangerous to one’s livelihood and social belonging, due to resulting accusations of transphobia.
Some would rather stay angry and divided, safe in the inclusion of their tribe, whichever tribe it is. Also, political division is profitable.
I think it is mostly fear that prevents us from talking about possible solutions to the complex problems surrounding transgender issues. To talk about solutions would mean acknowledging, validating, and “platforming,” or sharing publicly, the differing perspectives on these topics to begin with.
If you had told me ten years ago that, by 2023, Roe v Wade would be overturned, no-fault divorce would be threatened, women would be called non-men, people born male would be winning women’s sports competitions, and you would face threats for daring to suggest that these changes felt like a war on women, I wouldn’t have believed you. If you had told me that we would also be debating the right to free speech in the United States, I wouldn’t have believed you. Yet here we are.
Language is a crucial way we communicate. Words help us understand one another as we work toward a more inclusive, compassionate, and just world. This is why free speech, without penalties to one’s livelihood and well-being, is necessary.
The Erasure of Femalehood From the English Language
I have shared stories on Instagram discussing the evolution of the English language—particularly the language around girlhood, womanhood, and femalehood. It is a social landmine to even acknowledge these changes with the slightest hint of confusion. The fact that I have has likely, and understandably, contributed to the perception of many that I am a transphobic TERF.
Johns Hopkins University, one of the most prestigious health centers in the U.S., referred to women as non-men in their LGBTQ glossary, released in June of 2023, until public uproar compelled them to take it town.
Women have been referred to as bleeders, vulva owners, and menstruators. Vaginas have been referred to as front holes. This has been in an effort to be more inclusive of transgender and non-binary people. To many women like me, these good-intentioned terms can feel hurtful and dehumanizing.
Can we not use gendered and non-gendered terms? No, for to even suggest this, as I have, elicits accusations of being non-inclusive and un-affirming. Transphobic.
Language always evolves. I study etymology for fun. So, it is particularly fascinating for me to observe my native language changing in real time.
A plethora of new and redefined words entered the English lexicon with the emergence of social media in the early 2000s. A pound symbol became a hashtag on Twitter (now X) in 2007. Like once meant similar to and today, a like is a form of currency on social media. Your number of likes, as well as follows, is a measure of your worth as a creator.
A like today can also be an endorsement. One of my recent Instagram polls revealed that nearly half of my voters view likes as endorsements, meaning they only like a post if they wholly agree with its content. The other half of my voters view likes more as acknowledgments, meaning they may not endorse the post’s content but they appreciate how it made them think—or, they simply liked the post because they generally like the creator.
The story of my alleged transphobia begins with a like.
What, Exactly, Do I Agree With J.K. Rowling About?
I am a writer. Words are not just my art but my survival. These little markings on your screen are the only way I know to try and communicate to you exactly what I mean, and attempt to understand exactly what you mean. I am middling to poor at reading facial expressions. I am terrible at interpreting what painters intend to communicate. A picture may be worth a thousand words to most but I’ll take a thousand words over a photograph any day.
So, when people ask me why I “get caught up in semantics,” I feel as though they are asking, “Why are you trying to understand why we’re mad at you? Why can’t you just know what you did, repent in the ways we demand, and never do again what you don’t even know you did?”
It is no surprise to me that some of the most widely condemned people in our society today are writers. Jordan Peterson is a writer. Richard Dawkins is a writer.
J.K. Rowling is a writer—perhaps the most successful writer of my generation, famous for authoring the Harry Potter book series that led to its franchise. Ultimately, it is because J.K. Rowling liked a tweet that I am now considered a transphobe.
For the blissfully ignorant, allow me to try and summarize why J.K. Rowling is now one of the most hated women in the world, and why anyone who understands her is a TERF.
A few years ago, J.K. Rowling was researching gender identity. Her reasons for doing so were both personal and professional, as she was developing a character for a new project. One day, she liked a post on Twitter, intending to save it so she could read it later. (This was in 2017, before Twitter introduced the bookmark icon allowing one to save a post without liking it.)
Rowling writes in her now-infamous blog post: “That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.”
The harassment escalated with each perceived slight Rowling made toward transgender people on social media. In December of 2019, she tweeted her support for Maya Forstater, who was fired for tweets her company deemed transphobic. Then, on June 6th, 2020, Rowling retweeted an article titled, “Creating a more equal post-Covid-19 world for people who menstruate.” Rowling’s caption read: “‘People who menstruate.’ I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud?”
Sarcasm is frequent on Twitter. It’s not my preferred method of communicating complex ideas, as it seems to enflame masses and cloud one’s message. Neither do I like engaging in tone policing—judging how someone expresses their concerns or other emotions. May he who is without a sarcastic post among us cast the first stone.
Trans-rights activists had none of Rowling’s sarcasm. The retaliation for what many perceived as a transphobic choice of words was swift and condemning, to which Rowling replied in the same hour with a series of additional tweets:
Four days later, following backlash that spread from Twitter and into mainstream media outlets, Rowling published her blog post. She listed five reasons for speaking up about trans-rights activism, among them her own experiences as a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. She never intended to make her, and her daughter’s, personal history public. Despite knowing people would accuse her of attempting to garner sympathy, Rowling felt her past trauma had become necessary context as to where her views were coming from.
Death threats and doxxing ensued. Trans-rights activists showed up at Rowling’s house and publicly posted a picture of her address. I watched, stunned, as the woman whose books I was forbidden from reading by the Christian Right now had her books burned by the Secular Left.
This past winter, I listened to a podcast called The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling, hosted by former fundamentalist Megan Phelps-Roper. I grew up a lot like Megan, forbidden from Harry Potter books and told Rowling was “demonic.” Like Megan, it struck me as surreal to see non-Christians also branding Rowling as evil. I shared the podcast on Instagram and Twitter, knowing it would elicit critique. I felt the cautionary parallels of Christian and secular fundamentalism were worth showing, as were the fascinating sociological investigations into how the U.S. became the polarized nation is it today.
Everything I feared would happen from sharing that podcast happened. I am okay with that, and braced for whatever comes after sharing this blog post.
I discussed Rowling’s blog post with a friend recently. “I’ve never considered that someone assaulted by a penis would feel unsafe around a transwoman,” he said. “But that makes sense… See, that’s a problem with social media. I did not know that little nuance with the J.K. Rowling kerfuffle.”
This reaction is common in private conversations I’ve had. Many don’t know that Rowling’s notoriety over trans issues has anything to do with her being a domestic violence and sexual assault survivor. Why? Because many of her critics don’t want to “expose themselves to violence” by reading her words or “support her” by reading Rowling’s tweets themselves. Many also feel that because they’ve read someone else’s commentary on their interpretation of Rowling’s words, they might as well have seen the proof of her transphobia themselves.
When now-canceled journalist E.J. Rosetta was given the assignment of writing an article detailing, “20 Transphobic J.K. Rowling Quotes We’re Done With,” she couldn’t find said quotes. She asked trans-rights activists where she was missing Rowling’s transphobia. Here is a list of excuses she was given for their inability to help her, including, “It’s just common knowledge,” “It’s not what she said but when she said it,” and, “I’m not doing your research for you.” Rosetta refused to write the article, publicly supported Rowling, and was fired from her job. She has been stalked, harassed, and sent rape and death threats from trans-rights activists ever since.
I came across these same excuses when I poured over Rowling’s tweets and blog post myself, earnestly trying to understand what I was missing that was fearful of or hateful toward transgender people. I understood why some found her occasional use of sarcasm hurtful. I understood why some disagreed with Rowling’s opinions and why they feared the largeness of her platform would be influential in rolling back hard-fought human rights. I could not find hatred or fear of transgender people. Rather, I kept seeing Rowling reiterate her allyship with and compassion for them.
“I want trans women to be safe,” Rowling writes. “At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe.”
This is the bottom-line of what I agree with J.K. Rowling about.
In the haunted words of one transgender activist, “…What if JKR is right? What if the fight for my rights curtails hers?”
In the words of Rowling herself, “Perhaps – and I’m just throwing this out there – the best way to prove your movement isn’t a threat to women, is to stop stalking, harassing and threatening us.”
Why I Am Taking a Step Back From the Atheist Community and Ex-Fundamentalist Spaces
Recent accusations of transphobia wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found myself deemed “problematic” in religious trauma recovery spaces. My blog post addressing false accusations of white supremacy, fatphobia, and ableism already put me in their crosshairs.
Other things I’ve been called include “grifter” and “dog-whistler.” If to dog-whistle is to speak in coded terms so that those who know will understand what I mean, who are “those who know” and what code am I hoping they receive? My only intent in speaking and writing carefully is to demonstrate sensitivity with my words in an effort to be respectful. I am not trying to speak in code or covertly signal to some group that I am one of them.
My feelings toward people are based on my individual experiences with them. There are some transgender people I don’t feel warmly toward. There are some cisgender people I don’t feel warmly toward. My feelings about someone have nothing to do with their pronouns, wardrobe, medications or surgeries, or which bathroom they use. My feelings about someone are based on how they interact with me, how I observe them interacting with others, and how they think—not necessarily what they think, but how.
I am not bothered when truths seem counter to one another. The world must seem awfully battle-like if you cannot hold paradox. I don’t have time or energy to look at life through the lens of spiritual warfare anymore—which, in the secular world, translates to moral warfare. The narrow-mindedness of good versus evil thinking is awfully familiar to me, as are the resulting behaviors of shunning and public humiliation. I’ll not take part.
I respect that those who do take part in the behaviors of moral warfare are often following the integrity of their own sincere convictions. I understand that their motives, like mine, are based in love. They don’t seem to grasp that parallel motives can have perpendicular outcomes.
What is extra-sorrowful to me is that the atheist community was supposed to be a place where freethought is welcome. Instead, post-faith spaces now feel like church, where conformity and obedience—in the name of truth and love—are law. The consequence for breaking the law is the same as that in the church: disfellowship.
I will not betray myself again by belonging to another religion, however godless.
My motive for writing this is not only to clarify my stance on transgender topics; I am also hoping, however futilely, to encourage others to clarify theirs—not just about transgender topics, but about all topics we let fear inhibit us from speaking and learning freely about. I know my peers are afraid. Many have more to lose than I do, including jobs, marriages, friend groups, family members... The same things many of us lost when we spoke against the toxic traits we noticed in church.
I urge my colleagues to speak up. Knowing you likely won’t, and why, I urge you to at least protest in private the public call-outs and disfellowship you witness for matters that are not crimes but differences of opinion. I challenge you to admit that atheist spaces are no longer for freethinkers—and to change these spaces so that freethought is the backbone of secular values and humanism once more. Many of you have privately voiced your concerns to me about how the religious trauma recovery space is becoming just as dogmatic and shame-wielding as the church. How will this change unless we exercise our freethought by putting it into words and actions?
I care so much about this community. I care so much about helping people recover from religious trauma and purity culture, and about helping them embrace their curiosity. Curiosity now feels punished when it leads places the Secular Left doesn’t want it to go, all while they rail against the bigotry of the Religious Right.
Lastly, a Note to Those Deconstructing Their Beliefs
If you are freshly out of religion or a cult, be careful. Think for yourself. Let no one inhibit your curiosity, questions, or truth again.
Look for the red flags of public call-outs for opinions that are not crimes; the wielding of fear and shame, however unintentional; and beware of anyone who does these in the name of love and tolerance—and especially truth.
Look for the green flags of intellectual diversity, respectful disagreement, and the encouragement to be yourself—fully, not just on the outside through how you dress or vote, but on the inside, with how you think and what you feel. You fought so hard to be here. Don’t let anyone violate your agency or brainwash your intelligence ever again. You are free. Live like it, and be so very wary of others who will be threatened by this.
When evaluating a person or community’s potential safety for you or lack thereof, I recommend referencing cult expert Steve Hassan’s BITE Model of Control. BITE stands for Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotional control. Ask yourself:
Would they reject you if you wore an American-flagged hat or a rainbow-flagged hoodie? Would they unfollow or harass you for listening to Jordan Peteron’s podcast or reading White Fragility? Do they discourage you from consuming information for yourself that they deem problematic, such as the documentary What is a Woman? or a YouTube video proving the earth is round? Would they abandon you for disagreeing with a tenet they hold dear or encourage you to withdraw from friends and family who do not share their beliefs and values?
Behave, learn, think, and express what you wish and how you wish. Don’t read something you don’t want to and don’t not read something that you do. Exercise your autonomy. Be wary of those who discourage this, covertly or overtly. By all means, avoid what seems harmful to you. Chase after that which feels truthful, right, and good.
Have searing confidence in yourself.
Be so open-minded, you fear your head will explode.
Let your heart break with empathy and rebuild it upon your own rationale.
This is my wish for all.
A NOTE: I will not take responsibility for how others may misuse my words in order to incite their own perpetration of cruelty and violence. It hurts already to know that some people will read this piece and take my words out of context to justify their own fear and hatred—both of accused TERFs like me and of transgender people.
Respectful disagreement is welcome here. I will not be responding to comments and DMs elsewhere. My social media accounts have been restricted not as “proof of my guilt” or “an unwillingness to listen”; but rather, as a boundary of my engagement with responses to this piece, limiting it to the comments section here where my words are laid out in full. If you have a question or concern, it’s likely others share it. Please do. All I ask is that you do so in good faith.
Lastly, a transgender person critical of J.K. Rowling did me the honor of giving this essay a sensitivity read. I’ve done my best to incorporate their thoughtful suggestions.
Thank you for reading.
I’m Alice Greczyn, an author, speaker, and co-host of Ideas Digest, a debate podcast. This newsletter is free because I think helpful information should be free as much as possible. Subscribe for free if you’d like to support me.
I appreciate your brave words.
I follow and read you because you have demonstrated an ability to both clearly state your perspective and to fearlessly address difficult, and often unpopular, topics.
Most importantly, though, you rigorously and diligently examine *all* the facets of the topic, including those ignored or actively avoided in the press, on social media, in personal spaces.
I don't agree with everything you've brought up here, but there is much here that I hadn't before considered, and this has given me much to think about.
Thank you for your honesty, and for your rigorous and conscientious research.
Thank you for pointing out how important it is to recognize the complexity of controversial issues and how expressing intolerance for people with different ideas is the same kind of coercive control used by abusive cults. These days, it is so important to strive to disagree with someone's ideas and morals without condemning the person themselves.
Whenever I think that the world is becoming (or already was) a place of militant intolerance, I remind myself that the people who spread intolerance are the vocal minority that enjoy conflict. I look around my office or the grocery store and realize that most people wouldn't respond with intolerance or shunning.
I think that most people will see your nuanced approach. However, you will surely be attacked by loud conflict-seekers from both sides that find issue with some of your words. I hope that the majority of people who read this article will take the time to show you their support so the cacophony of intolerance is diluted or even overwhelmed by the sound of compassion.