Dear Editor, reply to Loose Women Trans Post

Dear Editor

Over the last few days, I have read articles, listened to radio programmes, all discussing the “trans in women’s spaces” debate.

I have some thoughts and observations.

TERFism, (trans exclusionary radical feminist) is rife, hijacking the debate, reducing the argument to a few offensive inaccuracies.

On “Loose Women” the constant reference to men identifying as women. The insinuation of predatory men, ‘self identifying’ as women, to gain access to safe women’s spaces. And do what exactly??

Their debate was centred around hospital wards.

So, poorly sick people, vulnerable, being predated on by a deviant pervert trans woman.

The thing is, the transwoman would be ill as well, so is highly unlikely to be “getting off” on your arse hanging out of your hospital gown. 

There is no gender recognition system, I have ever witnessed on the doors to single sex wards. No showing of ID. Realistically, men walk in, and out of hospital wards all day long, some of them, even may be predatory men. 

To be fair, if I was that way inclined, and I wanted to predate on vulnerable women in hospital, I am surely more likely to ‘self identify’ as a doctor, perhaps, or a therapist, porter, administrator, or a 100 more male roles that give me access to vulnerable people. Why maybe a celebrity DJ, TV personality!!

Those of you, reading this, who are blessed not to be trans, and it is a blessing. I wouldn’t wish my battle on my worst enemy, and despite all of the publicity, this is no lifestyle choice, most pre-op trans women, and definitely trans men, are asexual. 

The hormone therapy, that pre-dates any surgery, renders us impotent, and sterile. It kills any kind of libido. It is self-imposed chemical castration, so we are in no position to act on the urges we previously had anyway. 

We are eunuchs, and they guarded the harems, the owners safe in the knowledge that their concubines would be safe from the attentions of the guards.

We have no interest in your bums hanging out of your gown, or a glimpse of a side breast. We are more consumed with the tender breasts and nipples our HRT is blessing us with, or the emotional tearful reactions to life, or frightened stupid at our own shadows. 

Choosing not to go out, to avoid public toilets, dreading the ” That’s a geezer” or even worse, “Mummy, why is that man wearing a dress?”.

There are easier paths to go down, if you are a sexually deviant man, with evil intent or desire. No sane sexual predator would choose this life as “an easy option”.

Despite having my male genitals, I am a woman. My hormone levels are extremely female, I have only trace testosterone, and female levels of oestrogen. My genitalia are shrunken pieces of skin, useless apart from evacuating waste fluids, and to be honest, not much good at that.

My partner will bear witness to the absence of any libido.

If you see me, understand, if it’s in a public toilet, I am a damn sight more scared than you are. My reactions aren’t male. I won’t confront you. That has left me, and whilst I battle my weight, cry every time I step on the scales, trying to have my confirmation surgery, maybe feel a little sympathy?

As I have said, I know of not one trans person, who has chosen this journey through choice, fashion, a laugh, or to gain access.

It’s a long, painful, often lonely journey, often at an immense cost, not only financial but personal, so please don’t trivialize our lives, or journey, or our motives.

In female company, we seek acceptance, and have as much empathy as you, for fellow women. We live on the fringe of society, with overt scrutiny, and curiosity, with everyone seemingly willing us to prove their evil premonition correct.

And yes, there maybe the odd dodgy soul out there, who maybe does become a predator, or murderer. Statistically it will happen. But before you all say “See, told you!!” Just think, Myra Hindley, Rose West, Beverly Allit. Even some women are deviant. Allit became a nurse, to access children to kill them.

Really. All we, trans people ask, is a little courtesy, a little understanding, and empathy, but most of all, acceptance and friendship and an end to the seemingly never-ending debate on who pees where.

Written by Sophie Dolman