The Wrong Sort of Lesbian

By Tracey

A guest post by Tracey, an invisible lesbian.

I gained what I could claim as a badge of honour this week. I got censured for being the wrong sort of lesbian.

Having bitten the bullet and signed up to attend an online event to celebrate Lesbian Visibility Day being run by the Edinburgh Pride Network, I duly logged on at 5pm on Tuesday 26 April and there, on screen, waiting to ascribe pearls of wisdom about being a Visible Lesbian, was Rosie Russell.

The event had been billed as a celebration of “all lesbian women” (except me, apparently, of which more shortly), and Rosie Russell was clearly billed as “a transwoman and a lesbian who is devoted to her [sic] wife of 25 years and splits her [sic] time between her [sic] home in Edinburgh and work in London, Shannon and anywhere else the role takes her [sic].”

So it is true to say that I was well aware prior to the event that it would feature a transwoman identifying as a lesbian, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the vacuousness of the discussion nor for the fact that an event that was meant to showcase lesbian lives and lesbian visibility was entirely dominated by a heterosexual man performing womanhood and claiming to be a lesbian when it is completely clear to me that a lesbian is and can only ever be a homosexual female.

I posted a number of comments in the chat and in the question-and-answer section, asking how the experience of guest Rosie, as a male, could be compared to my own as a lesbian and asking why the entire event was dedicated to trans issues and not to lesbianism. None of these were addressed, although questions about being a trans lesbian were touched on. (I asked what this was. Tumbleweed.) Before I could ask whether Rosie’s wife now identified as a lesbian herself, having previously been in a heterosexual marriage, I was thrown out of the meeting by the host, but not before the guest was apologised to by the chair for having to read some of the comments in the chat. The guest was apologised to, but I was removed without warning or any communication from the organisers.

The entire event was conducted in a locked down fashion. Only the panel was visible, not other participants. The chat wasn’t open and I have no way of knowing how many other attendees there were nor what issues were being raised. I am aware that at least one other person must have raised a question about the law – possibly, the Equality Act – because the guest made a comment in response that ‘the law evolves.’ The conduct of the event in this manner is indicative to me that the organisers possibly anticipated some negative kickback and had done everything they could to minimise the impact of that.  

So, not only was a Lesbian Visibility event given over entirely to a male identifying as lesbian – maybe because no actual lesbians could be found to participate in the Staff Pride Network as it appears to have been entirely captured by gender ideologues – but an actual lesbian participant was actually thrown out of the meeting presumably for being the wrong sort of lesbian, a female one, and one that asked pertinent questions at that. (A third panellist appeared about 30 minutes in, perhaps to mitigate the comments coming through on the chat and to invest some ‘levity’ into the event, and the level of debate, already sub-sixth form, tumbled to junior school standards and there was some banter about Gentleman Jack.)

I’ve often been accused of being the wrong sort of lesbian. Ironically, in the 1980s, some of my less gender conforming dykey friends considered me to be too ‘feminine’ presenting, and I’ve been known to wear lipstick and have my nails done, shock horror. But these days I am getting used to being the wrong sort of lesbian because I’m one of those not-the-fun kind of lesbian feminists who refuse to sign up to gender ideology. I refuse to accept males into the sacred space of lesbians where they have no place whatsoever. I thank the stars that the cultish adherence and policy capture of institutions wasn’t prevalent back when I was coming out because many of my dear fellow lezzers would have been transed because they wanted to be boys and they would have been deprived of their fulfilment as the wonderful women they are, my partner included.

So, it seems the University of Edinburgh likes to celebrate Lesbian INvisibility Day (or in my case, the hour of the vanishing lesbian). Not great optics for a prestigious university which should be able to handle robust debate and disagreement – especially when it’s within the law (given that my sexuality is protected by the Equality Act 2010 from the discrimination shown towards me by my hosts) and given that, thanks to the mighty Maya Forstater, my beliefs as a ‘gender critical feminist’ are also not only worth of respect but also, guess what? Protected by law.

Rosie can dress how he likes, present how he likes, live whatever life he pleases and I wish him nothing but the best – but no matter that he claims the term, he is not a lesbian and I care deeply that his dominating presence at a meeting to celebrate lesbianism was allowed to happen, with the deeply dysphoric consequences and effects on young lesbians looking for their space and their place in the world.

Lesbian Visibility Day was not a suitable occasion on which to platform a trans-identifying male, nor was it appropriate to advertise the event as “L with the T” – this clearly puts lesbians in a role of servitude to another group instead of foregrounding what the day was meant to be celebrating – whilst there might be occasions where this may be apposite, Lesbian Visibility Day is not one of them.