Being a parent fuels my passion to show up as a trans ally, and drives me as an activist to keep going when it gets tough.
Earlier this year, I felt on the verge of giving up. But when I zoomed in, I saw the evidence of the small but compounding effects of collective action. I came to realise I needed to learn more patience to support my fierce determination to protect my daughter and support the Trans+ community.
Following the mass lobby on 25th June, where over 900 people came to parliament to lobby for Trans+ rights, I felt uplifted.
From inside my queer, pink bubble of media, I watched with excitement at the ability of this committed group to produce the biggest mass lobby since those against Section 28, legislation which prevented schools and local services from talking about gay people. It was a chink of light after what had felt like such dark days since the Supreme Court ruling in April.
But with minimal mainstream coverage that reflected my experience of the lobby, it was clear to me that the majority of the public - most of my friends, even - remained unaware of the event. Worse,they were unaware of the impact of the proposed bathroom ban on people’s lives. On my daughter’s life.
Campaigning is about getting your voice heard above the noise and ahead of all the other issues on the desk of those concerned. When you’re submerged in queer stories and daily news, as well as living with the consequences and the fear of what is happening, it’s easy to forget not everyone is following it as closely.
And so in the days which followed, I reflected on how to sustain momentum on this marathon that is campaigning.
I reflected on my experience attending two parliamentary briefings, one with TransActual and another with the charity FFLAG. I considered the impact of meeting with MPs and Peers - both on myself and on them.
Personal stories are incredibly valuable in connecting politicians to their constituents and demystifying misinformed, prejudiced media narratives. There’s no doubt we touched the hearts of those who attended, with some MPs moved to tears at mine and other parents’ accounts of fears for our trans children.
I took away one big question: how can we turn that emotional connection into tangible action? It has become clear to me how many MPs simply lack the resources, information or channels to receive supportive narratives towards the Trans+ community. It begs the question - what if they had those resources?
The joy and the passion of loving and supporting my child drove me to stand in that room. But giving the MPs something they can act upon takes a little bit more patience and consideration. At times, this has left me feeling despondent about what comes next and how to maintain trans visibility amongst all the other horrors occurring in the world.
I’ve said for a while that the attacks on Trans+ lives and rights in the US are mirrored here in the UK in ‘stealth mode’ - under the radar of the majority of the public.
As we were hit by the Supreme Court ruling, the EHRC interim guidance and subsequent consultation process and questions over lobbying, I felt far closer to the truth than I wanted to be.
Then I witnessed the difference persistent letter writing makes, as MPs began to speak out in support of their trans constituents at debates and committee hearings.
Although the outcome remains highly uncertain, the 50,000 responses to the EHRC consultation have delayed the final guidance and more challenges have been made against other possible government actions.
Taking the advice of those Trans+ and LGBTQIA+ friends who have been in this fight for a long time, I appreciate each and every win and witness the power of a community pulling together.
As the next wrecking ball hits us in the shape of the new relationship and sex education (RSE) guidance, which discourages children from questioning their gender or teaching about Trans+ lives, and we are reminded of the chill of Section 28, even the most resilient among us are tested.
We cannot do it all, and sometimes we have to take a guilt-free pause to recharge. Otherwise, the emotional and mental strain will take us out of the game. When we are ready, we do what we can, however small it feels.
Every conversation that prompts someone to think and act differently helps create the ripples of change.
Anger and fear brought me here to defend my beloved daughter passionately, but having patience and tenacity will be what helps me to see it through. Right now, it might seem we will never reach a place where we feel our work is done.
All the same, we must take satisfaction from every small win, build the mental capacity to keep showing up, and know that fighting for those we love is worth it.
We deserve good news too.
When there is so much hate out there, it's easy to get swept up in the doom.
QueerAF doesn't do that. We sprinkle in the joy that is the lifeblood of why being LGBTQIA+ is so simply wonderful.
And in the newsletter where this was first published, there was actually a bunch of positive news to celebrate. It shows me that despite the headlines knocking us down, we're getting right back up again and using our anger to fuel our fight.
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