For as long as I can remember, I’ve always found the idea of a trans-exclusionary radical feminist (colloquially referred to as a TERF or more recently as self-described ‘gender-critical feminists’) as incredibly ironic, if not entirely counterintuitive to the worthwhile cause of feminism as a whole.
After all, their entire manifesto begins and ends with defining what makes up a woman solely by their reproductive organs and denouncing almost all forms of free gender expression; values that, in my opinion, belong more in the misogynistic hellscape of A Handmaid’s Tale rather than in any form of adequate feminist theory worth its salt. I myself consider women to be a bit more than just walking wombs; maybe a hot take, I know.
It also seems like gender-critical feminists spend the majority of their time cyber-bullying vulnerable strangers or celebrities they’ll never have a genuine conversation with on social media sites – that are owned and maintained by bonafide misogynists and far-right enablers – yelling at both trans and cisgender folks alike about their appearances and how they aren’t conforming to the gender ideal. Because feminism is all about the importance of staying within the confines of societal norms, we know this.
While I can somewhat admire a TERF’s dedication to hammer home the same stale talking points over and over and over again, I’m more focused on the fact that we currently live in a world where women across the globe are losing fundamental rights tenfold. These women have become victims to ever-increasingly brutal acts of femicide conducted by cisgender men, not on whether or not a trans person can use the same toilet as me. We know that 78 women were murdered in Australia due to gender-based violence last year alone – none of which, might I add, were perpetrated by trans people.
It’s due to their very narrow worldview that I know I won’t be able to convince any TERF-adjacent-sympathists who might’ve given this article a quick skim through, that trans people are worth their respect, because by their very-own logic, cisgender women aren’t either.
You don’t even have to look any further than just last year to see what I’m talking about, with the all-too recent online abuse hurled at Algerian Olympian Imane Khelif by people like J.K Rowling (arguably the patron saint of TERFs everywhere) and Elon Musk – the world’s richest man who has been described by his own child as “an incel” – accusing Khelif of being transgender and hijacking the games, undeservedly beating a ‘real woman’ in the process. There was also a convicted rapist who performed at the games, but the so-called ‘protectors of women’ made not a peep about his inclusion.
Khelif, whose home country criminalises same-sex relationships and has no legal recognition of trans people, is a cisgender woman and has since spoken out against the hate she experienced due to Rowling and Musk’s influence, even mentioning them both by name in an ongoing lawsuit that was filed last year. It’s also imperative to mention that cisgender woman and Taiwanese boxer Lin Yu-ting was similarly harassed under the same transphobic pretence, meaning that two mega-rich white individuals attacked the appearances and ignited a hate campaign against two POC women for not looking ‘woman enough’. That’s just plain disgusting, no ifs, ands or buts about it.
Watching this unfold in real time, as a bystander located halfway across the world, made me realise that the measuring stick that gender-critical feminists use to define womanhood is almost identical to the one instilled upon us by Big Patriarchy himself. In the eyes of both, you are required to look, act and experience life in one specific way for your female identity to be valid, lest you be seen as a fraud.
The Imane Khelif fiasco of 2024 is one of such instances of a ‘transvestigation’ – a conspiracy theory ripped straight from the pages of QAnon – that claims that specific celebrities and public figures are secretly transgender, chucking in that they also belong to the Illuminati for good measure (it wouldn’t be a genuine conspiracy theory without mentioning The New World Order, of course). A list of the previously accused include Michelle Obama, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga, with the latter responding to long-standing rumours of her being trans in a 2011 interview with Anderson Cooper by asking “would it be so terrible?” if she was indeed a transgender woman.
“Why the hell am I going to waste my time and give a press release about whether or not I have a penis? My fans don’t care and neither do I.”
I’m aware that a Lady Gaga quote more than a decade old isn’t nearly enough to convince a group of people to stop their hellbent crusade that’s set on dehumanising one of the most marginalised communities out there. But as someone whose identity is intrinsically linked to my queerness and ruled by my own feminist values, I find this wave of feminist-led transphobia utterly misguided and disappointing.
It’s also unsettling to me that lesbians around the world have embedded themselves within the TERF movement, with examples like the UK-based group ‘Get The L Out’ determined on removing lesbian involvement from the LGBT+ movement (hence the name) due to their belief that transgender activism removes lesbian issues and visibility.
While I vehemently disagree with this line of thinking, I think it’s also fair to disclose that I am someone who spent the majority of my teenage years growing up alongside fellow queer people, building bonds with like-minded individuals which included trans folks and steadily read up on gender theory. I’ve seen firsthand the difficulties and general unfairness inflicted upon my trans mates throughout their lives. When I was in the trenches coming to terms with my own sexuality and budding womanhood as a bushy-tailed teen, it was my trans friends who I confided in. They never invalidated or diminished my anxieties simply because I was cis; they sat with me and listened, understanding all too well the general sense of unease that comes with existing as someone not following the strict societal rules set out before us. I guess then you can call me a tad biased, because I just so happen to see trans people as people. What the hell, sure.
But it’s therein where the problem with TERF philosophy lies: I don’t think the majority of these gender-critical feminists have even met another trans person, let alone had a conversation with them to try to understand why and how their life experiences might be different to their own. For example, one issue I see brought up within TERF talking points is that transgender women specifically appropriate femininity, dressing and acting in the kind of hyper-feminine aesthetic that is built and maintained by cisgender men. But these very same gender-critical feminists don’t take into account the drastically different lived realities of these women, who might mould themselves into this specific feminine aesthetic as a means to ‘pass’ for their own personal safety, and to protect themselves from transphobic violence imposed by cisgender men.
This was touched upon in the Netflix documentary Disclosure – an excellent doco that highlights the history of trans representation in film and TV – with trans activist and actress Laverne Cox describing being “viciously harassed” whenever she didn’t wear makeup or deck herself out in feminine garb.
“It was warpaint, going out into the world and just wanting to feel at my very best because I knew I would be misgendered. I knew that I would immediately feel unsafe just walking down the street, and that was certainly the case.”
Womanhood, as a whole, is unbelievably complicated and is rife with hypocrisy, so you’d think that any self-respecting feminist would identify where these trans women might be coming from. Besides, I can relate to this (albeit on a much smaller scale) since I too often feel compelled to wear concealer, mascara and heels in order to be seen as worthy of respect in the eyes of my peers; both male and female.
The concept of passing is also a pretty contentious and divisive issue among trans people and I, as a cisgender woman, will not pretend to act as authority on such a topic. I instead recommend reading literature or listening to actual trans folk talk about it instead, and I also ask any and all gender-critical feminists to at least attempt to empathise with trans folk and begin an open dialogue about how it feels to live and exist as a trans person in today’s age. I’m certain you might just see that you have a lot more in common with a trans person than originally thought.
When push comes to shove, I zealously disagree with TERF rhetoric. It’s not trans athletes who are taking away reproductive rights, and the trans person next to you in the toilet stall isn’t responsible for the gender pay gap or the rising risk of femicide, they just want to pee. The same people who are systematically dismantling women’s rights are also loudly condemning the existence of trans people, and none of us win when we allow our shared oppressors to lay waste onto folks just trying to survive, just like us.
I’ll end this article with one final pearl of wisdom said by feminist legal scholar Catharine A. MacKinnon, aptly describing how I feel about this topic: “I always thought I don’t care how someone becomes a woman or a man; it does not matter to me.”
“It is just part of their specificity, their uniqueness, like everyone else’s. Anybody who identifies as a woman, wants to be a woman, is going around being a woman, as far as I’m concerned, is a woman.” Period!
If you are struggling and need to talk to someone, you can call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or Beyond Blue, and also use these resources below:
QLife
A free, confidential service that offers support and referrals for LGBTIQA+ people. You can call 1800 184 527 from 3 PM–12 AM daily, or chat online.
Rainbow Door
A specialist helpline that offers information, advice, and referrals. You can call 1800 729 367 from 10 AM–5 PM daily, or text 0480 017 246.
Minus 18
An advocacy platform that provides resources and guidance for LGBTQIA+ youth. Black Rainbow
A national advocacy platform for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander LGBTQIA+ people.
