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43 additional women reveal sexual abuse at the hands of trans-identified men

After reading the above book, I am even more certain that there should be sort of criminal charge for this kind of reckless, anti-feminist, anti-safeguarding hot take.

Vax Badham @vanbadham

Feminist solidarity *always* with the trans community. Women’s spaces are for women and trans women are women. Also - and it needs to be stated as often as possible, by as many people as possible - that TERFS are, relentlessly, the absolute worst. #CisWithTheT

Recently, two major stories have proved beyond any doubt that gender ideology is a charter for sexual predators. Despite this, the liberal press and their liberal audiences are still straining their neck looking the other way. The Guardian tried to cover up the Wi Spa story not once, but three times—and judging by the chatter on Twitter from my old Guardian-reading chums, none of them yet has a clue about what happened in Loudoun County.

Now, they’re trying to dismiss the BBC story on the sexual abuse of lesbians by trans identified men, with celebrities and journalists tripping over themselves to discount the experiences of the women in that piece. But the women in that piece are just the visible point of an iceberg.

In 2018, I made contact with a Kitty Robinson, a young lesbian who had a Facebook group containing a staggering number of women who were recovering from sexual abuse by trans-identified partners or friends. I couldn’t find a journalist who would cover it as the women were outside the UK (it could have been worse, mind, I could have sent the story to Jesse Singal). Eventually, the group fell apart, but Kitty collected some of their experiences for the book ‘You Told Me You Were Different’.

In it, 43 women describe in often heartbreaking detail the abuse they suffered at the hands of trans-identified predatory men, and the gaslighting they subsequently endured from wider society. The contributions are searing.

The sixth trans woman I knew was over six feet tall and had a fantasy that men would rape him. He would only ever dress in cartoonishly sexual stripper style outfits. He described multiple times to me how he was worried that men would rape him when he walked around in public. And the voice and level of description that made it obvious that this was his personal sexual fantasy. He suggested that he and I were both equally in danger from sexual assault. I'm five foot one, and just trying to live my life. He was over six feet, and that was his sexual fantasy. We were very different in our experiences of the threat of sexual assault.”

In “Letter To My Therapist” Eli describes the effect of hearing her therapist call her rapist “she”.

I want to throw up. I want to die. I want to scream. He can't hear you in here. Your liberal friends can't hear you in here. I walked past two trans positive graffiti on my way to your office. The people who wrote them can't hear you. The city can't hear you. Your social media feed can't hear you. I want to say HE did, HE does HE, remember? Remember that a man covered my voice with his own, smacked me around, raped me, called me a stupid slut, cheated on me, remember that he's a man.”

Another woman describes her time at a small arts college, where the trans-identified young men “would get away with all kinds of abusive and bizarre behavior. And because they were so femme for way wearing the occasional thrifted shirt, everyone else checked their privilege and averted their eyes, chalking it up to the stresses of living in a transmisogynistic society, causing them to lash out or develop mental illness or drug using habits. No matter what you want to attribute it to. I saw the pattern everywhere. People raised to take the emotional work of women for granted gleefully doing so, when 21st century gender labels allowed them to do so without guilt.”

Another lesbian talks of how her partner was raped in a supposedly ‘polyamorous’ relationship:

“The other man, the one from the beginning, (you don't have to keep track, they run and run and run together), raped my partner in our bed a few months later. That was when my partner still called him her girlfriend. She called the man who once got her pregnant raping her (I thank her body for the mercy of miscarriage) in her sleep, her girlfriend. I called him that too. He liked to be called a girl, though he was an adult man. Didn't take estrogen then though I think he might now. We were all very progressive. So we called everybody whatever they wanted. And my partner dated whoever wanted to date her. Nobody rapes her anymore because we stopped letting men inside our houses or our lives, no matter what they like to be called.”

Thankfully, it’s not the only story to end on a hopeful note. These women are bloodied but unbowed, and if you or someone you know is in a similar situation, Kitty Robinson has produced a crucial field guide to the territory. You can buy it here.