Gender-critical / TERF

This won't convince everyone, but it is very good:

To the transphobes, “what is a woman?” is never treated as a serious question. It is only a rhetorical device meant to “own the libs” or whatever. This is a shame, because it’s an excellent question. As a trans woman myself, I love this question because if treated seriously, it yields some surprising and uplifting insights into the nature of identity itself.

So that’s what we’re going to do today: take it seriously. And for the sake of clarity, the rest of this article will refer to “what is a woman?” as The Question.

If you took any philosophy classes in college, you may recognize The Question as fundamentally an ontological one. It is a question about categories, which are sufficiently interesting that an entire branch of philosophy dedicates itself to examining them and how they work.

[…]

The broad strokes of ontology are about how categories are defined and how you determine which things in the world do or don’t belong to a given category. In that sense, The Question is clearly ontological because it implicitly posits that a category called “women” exists, and then asks for a definition of that category.

Why? Because we would presumably like to have a rigorous way of knowing which people belong to that category and which do not. That is, we would like to be able to use that definition in a social context to do useful things like decide who gets to marry whom, who gets to use which bathroom, and who might get sent off to fight in foreign wars.

Keen readers will observe that there is a circularity problem here: to define a category, we must examine members of that category to see what traits they have. But without an a-priori definition of the category, how do we know that the things we’re examining actually belong to the category? Ontologists take a variety of approaches to this circularity problem. The ones that are most relevant for our purposes are prototype theory and iterative refinement.

Prototype theory takes the existence of the category itself for granted and builds a definition of the category around uncontroversial examples. If examining the category of “birds”, the prototype theorist more or less says, “look, we’re not sure about penguins, but we all agree that crows and robins and sparrows are birds, so let’s just start there, ok?”

Iterative refinement takes a prospective category definition and refines it by examining additional candidate members of the category, to see whether they should be rejected from the category or whether the category definition itself should be refined to properly recognize them. The iterative refiner says “Ok, so penguins don’t fly, but they do lay eggs. Should we refine the category definition to exclude flying as a necessary attribute, or should we reject penguins from the category of birds?” And they probably decide to exclude flying from the definition, because a broken-winged sparrow is still a bird.

A long but informative read:

According to the scholar Naomi Alizah Cohen, modern antisemitism and transmisogyny overlap in profound ways. It is no coincidence, Cohen suggests, that TERFs are so frequently to be found in the vicinity of podcasts touting Jewish “transhumanism” conspiracies. For National Socialists, she writes, the figure of the trans woman represented “the Jew’s most abhorrent creation.” Superficially, of course, all things Semitic were aligned within Nazism with Weimar-era Berlin’s demimonde of mollies, dolls, feminine faggotry, transsexuality, and transvestism.

But transfeminine people, specifically, were the figures that German fascism regarded as Jew-like because they are formed against nature — unholy mutants, like Frankenstein’s monster — and Cohen argues that the foundations of transmisogyny and antisemitism were constructed together in this era: On the one hand, there is the “natural” body of the organic, autochthonous Aryan (good), and on the other, there is the “artificial” specter of the wandering, dissimulating “alien” (bad). Trans women and Jews alike, here, belong to the domain of trickery, usury, dysgenics, placelessness, amorphousness, degeneracy, and the demonic. Aryans and cissexuals, conversely, belong to the domain of truth, earth, primal purpose, clean outlines, and palpable borders. 

Excellent summary in the wake of the UK Supreme Court interpretation of the Equality Act:

If you have strong feelings about what a woman is, that’s fine – whatever they are, this judgement isn’t asking you to change them. The court has stressed that it is not its role “to adjudicate on the arguments in the public domain on the meaning of gender or sex.” Instead, its job was to try to figure out what politicians and the lawyers they worked with meant by the term when they drew up the Equality Act (2010).

[…]

Part of the difficulty with this area of law is that when the Equality Act was written, there was very little public awareness of trans people, and that ignorance extended to the people working on the bill. Although cases of trans men getting pregnant already existed, they dismissed these as anomalous and unlikely to become relevant. Although LGBT groups such as the Equality Network advised them of the existence of non-binary people, they felt that this was a tiny minority not worth worrying about. They were similarly quick to ignore concerns raised by intersex people, and they adopted a binary definition of sex. This would inevitably lead to difficulties as public attitudes and behaviours changed, and as gaps between the law and lived reality emerged.

In the judgement released today, the judges defined ‘biological sex’ as “the sex of a person at birth.” This is, in fact, far from a watertight definition, but, helpfully, they also referenced For Women Scotland’s rather clearer “biological sex as recorded on their birth certificate.” The judges, however, are experts in law, not in medicine or biology, and they did not take evidence from anyone in that category. They therefore make statements such as “as a matter of biology, only biological women can become pregnant,” which might seem reasonable to the average person but which overlook the fact that intersex people sometimes find themselves with inaccurate birth certificates.

A solid summary of a distressing few months that seemed to go on for years.

A few weeks ago an anonymous person threatened to kill my friend. Her crime: being trans. This sort of thing is depressingly familiar to anyone who dares to be or support trans online. Away from the darker reaches of the internet, however, the so called “gender critical” (what I understand to be “anti-trans”) movement enjoys platforms in national media and access to the highest corridors of power. The health secretary, Wes Streeting, has even appeared to make high profile statements in support. This summer, however, the GC movement’s claims to legitimacy crumbled.

Judith Butler, a titan of feminist academia, argues that the movement enforces the patriarchal gender norms favoured by the religious and far-right. “Men” and “women” are confined to tightly defined stereotypes and anyone who deviates is punished. It would explain why GCs receive support from authoritarians like Vladimir Putin, and far right politicians like Giorgia Meloni.

One might be forgiven for thinking the GC movement spent the summer trying to prove Butler right.

For a special edition of Downstream IRL, Ash Sarkar is joined by philosopher, author, and one of the world's most cited academics, Judith Butler. Their new book, 'Who’s Afraid of Gender' charts how a transphobic moral panic morphed into an all-our war on so-called ‘gender ideology’. Together, Ash and Judith explore how Britain became TERF island, the limits of self-identification, and what really defines a woman.

Their starting premise (and desired conclusion) is: There must be a strict binary because that would define trans people out of existence. When we discuss how gender identity and gender expression vary in the population, they claim that “gender” is somehow completely divorced from “biological sex” (it isn’t, see video). When they insist that genitals are the primary determinant of sex, we point to trans and intersex people who fall outside of those expectations. When they shift from genitals to sex chromosomes, or the SRY gene, we point to even more exceptions there. So now they’re championing gametes, but once again, there are always exceptions. Because human beings, like all animals, display some degree of sexual variation.

Speaking of all animals, the second reason why gender-critical activists have embraced gametes is that they believe they have stumbled upon a universal definition of sex that overrides all other conceptualizations (and we know how much they love their definitions). Their argument goes something like this: “In organisms that sexually reproduce, scientists categorize the sex that makes the larger gametes as ‘female’ and the sex that makes the smaller gametes as ‘male.’ Therefore, we must use this same standard when [checks notes] deciding which human beings can use which restrooms or play in which chess tournaments. Because science!”

In 2014, the Religious Right’s morale reached its lowest point. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed in 2011. Same-sex marriage looked inevitable as court after court struck down ban after ban behind a wave of rising public support. Time magazine had declared a “transgender tipping point.” It was here that the Right made a decision to shift their culture-war focus to transgender people. Simultaneously, they began funding ostensibly feminist anti-trans groups like the Women’s Liberation Front (WoLF), which took $15,000 in seed money from the Alliance Defending Freedom, a Religious Right legal group dedicated to basing U.S. law on the Bible.

At the 2017 Values Voters Summit hosted by the Family Research Council, Meg Kilgannon outlined the religious right’s plan to co-opt anti-trans feminist groups, and use their feminist-sounding language to seem more secular while hiding the true motivation behind their animus. Ultimately, they would loop back around to finish off LGB people once the trans community had been dealt with.

“For all of its recent success, the LGBT alliance is actually fragile, and the trans activists need the gay rights movement to help legitimize them. Gender identity on its own is just a bridge too far. If you separate the T from the alphabet soup, we’ll have more success.”

Dykes on Bikes Melbourne describes itself as a volunteer-run, not-for-profit motorcycle club for LGBTQ+ folks who identify as women, non-binary or genderqueer, and the group is known for its activism. As a Melbourne member, one of Kieran’s favourite recent experiences was leading the Trans Day of Visibility: Reclaim the Streets protest in March 2023.

After Nazi protesters spouting dangerous transphobic and racist rhetoric were offered police protection, Dykes on Bikes stepped in. The group led thousands of trans folks and allies in a huge protest, and Kieran remembers riding down the street and hearing the marchers chanting: ‘You can’t run, you can’t hide, Dykes on Bikes are on our side!’ Kieran said: “Just thinking about it now gives me chills. I will remember it forever.”

Like “detransition,” “regret” can also have different meanings. Narayan et al. (2021) surveyed surgeons who perform gender-affirming surgeries about their experiences with patient regret (which they reported to be in the 0.2–0.3% range). They documented three different “types” of regret: “true gender-related regret” (typically a change in gender identity), “social regret” (typically due to external pressure from family members or societal transphobia), and “medical regret” (e.g., complications due to surgery). Notably, they reported that only 6.5% of patients who experienced regret believed that they had been “misdiagnosed.”

In other words, just as we shouldn’t conflate “detransition” with “regret,” we also shouldn’t conflate “regret” with inadequate assessment or having been misdiagnosed as transgender. Once again, this confirms my previous point that the “mistaken and regretted transition” narrative only applies to a small fraction of those who detransition, and thus represents a miniscule number of people who choose to transition in the first place.

To put these numbers in perspective, let’s try a thought experiment: Imagine 10,000 people transitioning. If 2% of them experienced detransition or regret, but only 6.5% of those individuals felt that they had been misdiagnosed as transgender in the first place, that would represent 13 people. Out of 10,000. That’s an incredibly small number of people — no wonder journalists and politicians who want to promote the “mistaken and regretted transition” narrative have to rely on the same handful of detrans interviewees over and over again.