I’m so bored of transgender people selling out their ‘brave journeys’ for thirsty media outlets. I know, I know. I’m a fine one to talk. I’ve told my story here, there and everywhere in a bid to spread the good word. I’m even writing a book about what it was like growing up trans in working class Nottingham. I see it as a bargaining tool. Give me a platform to discuss the human rights of trans people and the awful way society fails young queer kids and I’ll give you all the juicy gossip on my transition.
Well, almost all the gossip. Because trans people can, and should, sometimes, keep some information back. While I personally don’t care what people think I’ve got between my legs – it’s the good stuff, and that’s all you need to know — I refuse, intellectually and politically, to answer questions about whether I’ve had “the op”. Or if I’ve changed my name. Or if I’m happy to show TV producers my “before” photos. The answer is no. I’m not an extreme dieter and I refuse to be reduced to a set of tacky before and after shots or, indeed, genitals. No matter how delicious they may be.
You could argue that any story about trans people — even a poorly written one — helps to establish and ‘normalise’ the fact that ‘some people are trans’. OK, fine. The next stage is to ‘get over it’.