Bloke in a dress

I’m not sure what the hell is going on any more. I’m not delusional so I don’t think I’m a woman or female. So I’m just a bloke in a dress and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

It’s kinda great to not be living with the cognitive dissonance that transwomen are actually women when clearly we aren’t unless you redefine women to not mean women anymore. And it’s kinda cool to be gender non-conformimg and give a big two fingers to the gender stereotypes about what men are allowed/meant to be.

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“Trans women are women” is a lie that is as dangerous to transwomen as it is to women

When I grew up in the seventies and eighties in the north of England, transgender wasn’t a thing. Men were men, and women were women. Heteronormativity was king. In fact it wasn’t just king, it was everything. It didn’t even need a name back then.

Where I grew up, nobody was gay. Faggots, puffters, bum-boys, up-hill gardeners, queers, trannies, gender-benders, dykes, lesbos and their ilk would not have been welcome or tolerated.

These things were shameful. Unacceptable. Wrong. Unnatural.

I’d seen cross dressing on the TV. I’d seen “that perverted faggot” Danny La Rue. I’d seen Kenny Everett’s ‘hilarious’ bearded lady ‘Cupid Stunt’. Being a ‘tranny’ was not a good thing. It was not something I wanted to be. It was something to hide and deny. I lived in fear. I was afraid. I was scared to be a tranny. Society had instilled in me a deep-rooted, intense internalised transphobia.

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