An outside Observer

Oh Julie Burchill, you’ve already thrown your toys out the pram, even the Barbies. I imagine the only weapon you have left against the “trans menace” is to chunder on us vociferously. Oh, too late. As a wise man often says to me, “when faced with an argument – de-escalation starts with you”. He is a very wise man, and incidentally also a transman. Despite being well known as one placard short of a peace-rally, I try to live by his advice.

Perhaps it was for the best that Burchill’s column was removed from circulation. Perhaps it’s for the worst that the Telegraph has now reprinted the column. Nobody, it seems, listened to anyone. In the roaring heat of Burchill’s potty-mouth, no one even heard as Julie Bindel and Richard Littlejohn trotted out their usual streams of transphobic vitriol. “The trans cabal [are] running a witch hunt everytime they get offended” tweets Bindel. Littlejohn responds, “If newspapers start firing columnists for making ‘offensive’ remarks, where will it all end?” That’s right, he did just say “where will it all end?”

Disregarding the usual clingers-on of Fleet Street, the Griffin-Look-alike of the moment is in pretty hot water. It’s difficult to get away with calling a repressed minority “a bunch of dicks in chick’s clothing”, “black-and-white minstrels”, or “a bunch of bed-wetters in bad wigs” without making us feel somewhat victimised. If nothing else, Burchill’s article can be held in breach of the Editors’ Code of Practice under points 1 and 12i for ‘inaccurate, misleading or distorted information’ and multiple counts of ‘prejudicial or pejorative reference’. The Press Complaints Commission have received numerous complaints to this effect, but have yet to respond officially. With a new article published every minute, it’s getting impossible to keep up with what is actually happening. I, for one, currently refuse to touch Twitter with a broken broom handle.

This argument should never have escalated. When Suzanne Moore printed the words that started this entire debacle, a “Twitter Storm” developed in which Moore was given no room to maneuver, and was backed, cursing, into a corner, before slamming out of the door. This was the fault of all the individuals who caused offense – on both sides.

To be perfectly clear, Moore should not have said that her comparatively-privileged white, middle-class audience were oppressed by being required to have “the ideal body shape – that of a Brazilian transsexual” – creating a demeaning stereotype implying that all Brazilian transsexuals are in possession of patriarchally approved beauty. The average transwoman in Brazil is no happier within the dangerous male gaze than any other woman. Not all Brazilian transsexuals are women, either – transmen do have a habit of existing. And transpeople in Brazil are not to be mocked – at this year’s Trans Day of Remembrance, a shocking majority of the victims memorialized were South American. Believe me when I say that the grim details of their murders will live with us for a very long time.

At the same time, the users of Twitter should not have vented their outrage so violently. It did no good, only causing an exacerbation of aggression, and paving the way for the Burchill piece which took things to a whole new level of crass unpleasantness. It’s tempting to think of this whole war as being fought between the “transsexual community” on one side and “feminist ladies” on the other. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, I can think of nothing more damaging for the Trans Community (that’s what we are called, not all of us are transsexual) and the Feminist Community (that’s what we are called, not all of us are women) than a media-engorged mess such as this.

Of course it’s all very well adding another two cent opinion piece to the swirling lava of discussion, but what can we do now? I’ll tell you what, we can all step away from the computers, and rediscover the art of reasonable discussion. After that, we can sign an international agreement to ignore Julie Burchill until she’s grown up enough to stop lobbing half-chewed Barbies whenever somebody mentions genitals.