Author: Carrie

  • How to spot an idiot

    This commencement speech, by Illinois Governor J. B. Pritzker, is wise. It’s all over the internet but in case you missed it, Pritzker talks about idiots and empathy:

    The best way to spot an idiot? Look for the person who is cruel.

    When we see someone who doesn’t look like us, or sound like us, or act like us, or love like us, or live like us—the first thought that crosses almost everyone’s brain is rooted in either fear or judgement or both. That’s evolution. We survived as a species by being suspicious of things we aren’t familiar with.

    In order to be kind, we have to shut down that animal instinct and force our brain to travel a different pathway. Empathy and compassion are evolved states of being. They require the mental capacity to step past our most primal urges.

    I’m here to tell you that when someone’s path through this world is marked with acts of cruelty, they have failed the first test of an advanced society. They never forced their animal brain to evolve past its first instinct. They never forged new mental pathways to overcome their own instinctual fears. And so, their thinking and problem-solving will lack the imagination and creativity that the kindest people have in spades… Over my many years in politics and business, I have found one thing to be universally true—the kindest person in the room is often the smartest.

    That’s been my experience too, and even more so for my friends who work in the hospitality industry: they dread the arrival of high-status, academically high achieving arseholes, people who prove the dating maxim that you can tell the character of a person by how they treat people they consider unimportant.

    Smart here doesn’t necessarily mean academically clever; it means people who are receiving rather than broadcasting, people who are interested and interesting and who see their own success or status not as a treasure to be hoarded but as a joy to be shared, people who have imagination and creativity in spades. These are the people I gravitate to, and who I am lucky to have as friends.

  • Eat your vegetables

    There’s a great piece by Parker Molloy about the “eat your vegetables” argument over social media: the idea that if you use social media, you should be compelled to read or hear views you disagree with.

    Like Molloy, I disagree.

    People get to pick what they watch on TV, right? And they get to decide which movies and concerts they want to see, yeah? Same thing for what books, newspapers, and magazines they read, correct? And people get to make their own decisions about who they hang out with, right?

    So why is social media different? Why is there this push to ensure that people can’t curate their own online experiences? It’s a weirdly paternalistic, “eat your vegetables” argument, except that these “vegetables” don’t actually have any nutritional value.

    …I was (and currently am) questioning the premise of the argument that social media platforms have a responsibility to show us “views we disagree with” in the name of understanding the broader world.

    The “views we disagree with” are rarely left-of-centre ones; they’re the ones constantly churned out by right-wingers and their friends in the press. And that means they are not views that we are unaware of, arguments we have not already debunked a million times. We’re not scared of them. We’re bored senseless by them.

    What’s going on here is a deliberate twisting, yet again, of free speech. You absolutely have the right to believe what you like and say what you want within your own circles. What you don’t have is the right to force anybody else to listen to you.

  • What need is this meeting?

    This article, by Doc Impossible, talks about something I think we often shy away from: the role of kink in trans people’s self-discovery. As the Doc writes, many people have asked the question: it’s just a fetish, right?

    This hopeful, terrified question that bears so, so much weight. Hopeful because, to the person asking the question, if it is just a fetish, it can stay in the bedroom, just be this weird, small part of you that nobody else needs to know about, that never needs to be acknowledged, that doesn’t need to have any power over you or your life.

    As the Doc explains, most people have a kink of some kind: one in two are into BDSM, one in seven have a foot fetish and so on. And many trans feminine people who haven’t worked out that they’re trans yet believe that they too have a kink. And maybe they do! But maybe it’s more than that.

    Indulging a kink is vastly safer and more private than coming out and transitioning. So, to a subconscious mind that’s trying to keep you safe and alive, it’d make an awful lot of sense to sort of lunge toward kink when it works to sublimate that need.

    The Doc suggests asking another question: what need is this meeting? Or to put it another way, what needs are kinks sublimating?

    As the woman I was talking to eventually discovered for herself, it was never about the sex. She didn’t want to live the kind of life that she had once fantasized about, not in reality. It was just a way for her to reach out and touch that part of herself before she was ready to face it consciously, to project herself into a body and a life and a joy that was a lot closer to who she was inside.

  • Pride in the city

    There were some beautiful scenes in London yesterday when an estimated 22,000 people marched for Trans Pride. That number is absolutely astonishing: the crowd easily filled Trafalgar Square, and I saw lots of Pride veterans posting that the first London Prides – which were attended by people from the entire LGBT+ community, not just the trans and non-binary contingent – were much smaller.

    I wrote about Pride and its importance for the closeted and newly out in my book:

    When you’ve spent decades being ashamed of who you are there is something profoundly liberating and energising about standing among thousands of people just like you for the very first time.

    And this particular Pride was an interesting contrast to the more commercial Pride event with its various corporations pridewashing their brands: where London Pride wants to be a highly profitable party, Trans Pride was a protest. A beautiful, joyful protest, but a protest nonetheless: a protest against the politicians who want to reduce our rights, and the newspapers that play the tune they dance to. And the sheer scale of that protest makes it very clear that despite the best efforts of the worst people, we are here and we aren’t going anywhere.

    It’s interesting to compare the images from yesterday with the images from any of the anti-trans rallies held around the country, rallies where despite having the full-throated support of the media and bussing in people from all over the country the numbers are always laughably small.

    The bigots may be loud and some of them may have friends in the media. But as Trans Pride demonstrated, there are many more of us, and we have many more friends.

    The anti-trans goons are the real-world equivalent of the people who buy blue tick accounts on Twitter to ensure that while they have nothing of value to say, people are forced to hear it anyway. Or maybe a better comparison is the man with the mic I saw on my way to Glasgow Pride:

    I was amused rather than appalled by the bible guy preaching eternal damnation through a megaphone as I clumped past him, his face as clenched as the fist holding his microphone. 5,000 marchers, 50,000 supporters, Irish popsters B*Witched and Scotland’s First Minister Nicola Sturgeon were getting ready to show that he was on the wrong side of history.

    Then again, perhaps not – because unlike the preacher, these people prefer to shout their slurs from the safety of their sitting rooms. It’s a lot easier to shout at crowds when you know the crowds can’t shout back.

  • Expecting the expected

    With Twitter doing its best impression of the Titan submersible, the race is on to find the next big social network. Previous contender Mastodon missed its opportunity the last time there was a Twitter exodus (I saw it described today as puritan, inward-looking and Protestant, which I think is very accurate), so the current favourite is Bluesky – which was partly funded by Twitter, and has Twitter co-founder and terrible arse Jack Dorsey on its board. Facebook is expected to launch its own contender, Threads, tomorrow.

    I think Threads will get the big numbers. Not because it’s necessarily the best service, but for multiple reasons. The first is scale: Meta, Facebook’s owner, can handle massive user numbers. The second is familiarity: it looks and works like Instagram. But the third and arguably most important reason is because Meta knows what to do about nazis.

    I’ve not been online as long as some, but I’ve still been online for nearly thirty years now. And every single social platform I’ve used, from Usenet and CompuServe through forums and Web 2.0 and social media and more, has faced the same problem: sooner or later, significant numbers of people, including but not limited to nazis, will try and abuse it and weaponise it against marginalised people. The question is never whether it’ll happen; just when it’ll happen and how.

    There’s a question every technology product should ask, and that is: how can this be abused? And despite thirty-odd years of social media online, all too often the question is not considered until the abuse is already well under way.

    Bluesky and Mastodon and the various others haven’t been through this yet to any significant degree, and whenever I try to get clarity on how exactly Bluesky will protect marginalised people the answer appears to be a vague collection of optimism and vibes – which is entirely in keeping with a Jack Dorsey product – or a promise that if Bluesky isn’t doing its job right, you can go to another service that uses the same protocol. But at the moment, there are no other services that use the same protocol.

    Inevitably, the bad people are now starting to move across. Some of the worst anti-trans bigots are there now, along with some of the worst of the far right, because owning Twitter is no fun: bigots need people to abuse and to orchestrate pile-ons against, which is why bigots aren’t happy to stay on their own bigot-centred social networks such as Gab, Parler and increasingly, Twitter. And the only solution that Bluesky appears to offer is blocking, which Twitter also has and which didn’t stop Twitter becoming unusable for marginalised people.

    I have no great love for Meta, Facebook’s parent company. And I fear Mark Zuckerberg is part of the right-wing techbro mob that’s doing so much damage to democracy right now. But in the short term at least, I know that Facebook and Instagram have a reasonable set of tools to protect their users from abusers on those platforms, and so Threads will have too. I know “don’t make it too easy for nazis” is an astonishingly low bar to clear, but as far as I can see right now only Threads looks like it’ll clear it.

  • Bye, BBC

    I’ve been a regular on BBC Radio Scotland for three decades now: I first went on Good Morning Scotland in 2001, and by the time I moved to the suburbs in 2005 I was a weekly guest on MacAulay & Co; I think I started regularly appearing there in 2003. To give you an idea how long ago that was, some of the exciting new things I introduced listeners to included YouTube, Facebook, the iPhone and 3G.

    I made some good friends at the BBC, including one of my very best friends, and had a lot of big laughs. I also came out to the wider world there.

    I wrote about my feelings about my BBC experiences in my book:

    I regret not going to university, but being a regular on BBC Radio Scotland feels very much like the next best thing: I’ve met so many extraordinary nice and funny runners, researchers, producers, presenters and guests. I’ve always loved radio and for many years was incredibly envious of the people who do it. To be invited to take part, even after nearly two decades of being a fairly regular contributor, feels like an enormous privilege to me.

    But all good things come to an end, and the beginning of a new, exciting project I can’t quite tell you about just yet means I can’t be around every Monday any more. Thanks to everyone who listened.

  • “Powder room pigs”

    I do love a good, righteously angry column. This, by Patrick Lennon in The Shot, gives anti-trans bigots both barrels: The toilet police are here and they want you to know they are very serious.

    They want you to think they’re asking important questions about women’s rights (despite overwhelming evidence that most cis women support trans people), about being censored and shut down (despite mostly just being served consequences), that they are serious professionals with grave and momentous concerns (despite being toilet police). They want to be seen as the lone voices of reason. They want the various woes and censure and outrage that their bigotry has created to be seen as proof of their importance, as a reason to take them seriously. They are desperate to be martyrs to the evils of “trans ideology” because they believe it will give them credence. They are desperately, furiously, trying to rebrand from weird little toilet cops, snooping genital inspectors, believers in the magical sanctity of the public bathroom, into something less embarrassing. 

    …It’s a deeply unserious belief, inscrutably stupid – and while anyone who believes it, who gets hoodwinked by bathroom propaganda or spreads it for their own grift, shouldn’t be taken seriously, there is a serious reason why it’s happening. It’s not JUST because these people are idiots and crooks – it’s because the bathroom has been the strange and also weirdly effective battleground of choice for bigots throughout time. 

    …These commode cops, these lavatory law enforcers, these powder-room pigs, are trying to gatekeep going to the bathroom in order to diminish and demean the integrity of trans identity, to remove agency and dignity from the LGBTIQ community. 

  • Conspiracy

    Jill Foster, a Daily Mail journalist, confirms on Twitter what we already surmised: UK anti-trans journalists collude in secret WhatsApp groups.

    This isn’t limited to the UK. In the US, anti-trans writers including one of the most prominent “just asking questions” jerk-off, Jesse Singal, demonised trans women in a private discussion forum that had been running for over eight years. The forum wasn’t exclusively dedicated to anti-trans activism, but it was a significant component of the discussions there. As Jezebel noted, participants included:

    New York Times best-selling authors, Ivy League academics, magazine editors, and other public intellectuals—in short, a lot of important people who influence public discourse through their written work.

    There’s a cliché that for bigots, every allegation is a projection – so for example there are endless cases of right-wingers shouting “groomers” at LGBT+ people and then hitting the headlines for sexual assault or having hard drives full of illegal pornography. And the allegation of a secret and sinister trans lobby is the same.

    There’s a sinister lobby, all right. But it’s not one that trans people are invited to or welcomed by.

  • Kitty litter

    The UK cat panic continues, with journalists who absolutely know better now offering cash for people to tell lies. This was posted, widely mocked and deleted earlier today.

    Offering money for stories is considered a bad thing in journalism, because as columnists’ drivel endlessly demonstrates, people will say any old shit for money. As a result cash for personal stories is usually the preserve of supermarket trash such as Love It! with their endless and invented tales of ghosts, murders and serial killers. But this request is for a supposedly reputable national newspaper.

    I almost feel sorry for Helen here, because she became today’s main character on Twitter. But I don’t, because what she’s doing is hoping to get paid for stirring up hatred against trans kids and their healthcare providers. The made-up story about kids identifying as cats is the right-wing’s infamous only joke, “I identify as…”, weaponised, and Carroll is offering cash for people willing to lie about it in print.

    The story is a hoax, and everybody reporting it knows it’s a hoax. Shame on them, and on the people who lap it up.

  • From despair to where?

    Earlier today I wrote a post about the newspapers claiming that trans kids are identifying as cats, horses and the moon, a classic piece of demonisation straight out of the classic text Folk Devils and Moral Panics.

    This morning, Elon Musk – whose trans daughter has cut all ties with him, and whose wife apparently left him for a trans woman – claimed that the word cis or cisgender, which is to transgender what heterosexual is to homosexual, is a slur that will get people who use it banned from Twitter. Twitter has no such concerns about actual slurs or threats of violence against trans people or their allies. While Musk was preening to his blue-tick sycophants, I received some Twitter report updates letting me know that actual death threats I’d reported on the service were not in breach of the Twitter rules.

    This afternoon, it leaked that the long-delayed UK ban on conversion therapy – aka torture – will have a consent clause, so if you’re coerced or bullied into being tortured then that will remain perfectly legal.

    The US evangelical right’s colonisation of our politicians and press is more evident than ever, and their strategies couldn’t be any more obvious.

    One of the bigot brigade’s favourite strategies is what far-right goon and Trump strategist Steve Bannon called “flooding the zone with shit”: you put out so much misinformation that your enemy simply can’t fight back against it. It takes much more effort to clean up bullshit than to spread it.

    Elon Musk knows “cis” isn’t a slur; he doesn’t care, either. He’s doing exactly what Sartre described 1940s anti-semites as doing.

    Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past.

    Toni Morrison famously wrote that the purpose of white racism was to wear Black people out.

    The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.

    It’s the same with the demonisation of other minorities. Trans people (and the wider communities we’re being used as a wedge to attack) are under constant assault on multiple fronts: in the courts, in the infiltration of school and health boards, in the pages of the press, over the airwaves and on social media. Endless airtime is given to people asking “what is a woman?” and discussing the fever dreams of bigots, a constant discussion about us by people who know nothing about us – and who care even less.

    When the moral panic against folk devils like you is stripping trans kids and adults of their healthcare, when people feel emboldened to call you predators and paedophiles simply for existing, when hate crimes are rocketing and you’re more scared of the outside world than ever before, how do you feel anything other than despair?

    Writing in Slate, Evan Urquhart says what many of us think: “Just a few years ago, it felt as though the lives of queer Americans were steadily improving… it’s different now.”

    It’s a provocative piece, and deliberately so. And it’s very much where my head is too, because while I’m not directly affected by what’s happening in places such as Florida I can see the tide crossing the Atlantic, as it has been doing for the whole time since I came out as me. Interviewee Ryan Campbell puts it very well:

    “I try to hold on to the idea that hate burns hot, but it burns out,” Campbell said. “I think things will probably continue to get worse for a bit. This is a thing that will rise and fall, but in the meantime, people are getting hurt now.”

    There’s a lot here that resonates strongly with me.

    When I was a child, in the late ’80s, I remember first learning that being gay was something bad, and understanding what gay meant well afterward. “Transgender” didn’t exist in my world growing up as that type of human being, but I saw the crude stereotype of a man in a dress as something to laugh at and as something frightening, a predator. As a trans person, my understanding of myself was crippled, distorted by confusion, doubt, shame, and self-hatred. As I came to accept myself, first as a queer woman and then later as transgender, I came to hope that children wouldn’t need to grow up like I had.

    …The loss of that promise comes hard. 

    The shock for me wasn’t that some people hate us, or that some of the most hateful will incite violence against us and campaign against our rights. No. What shocked me was that nobody cares. We told our peers what was happening. We showed them the bad actors – the religious extremists, the fascists, the grifters – telegraphing their plans like movie villains. We predicted every step of the process, from the reasonable concerns to the refocusing on the wider LGBT+ community and women’s reproductive freedom. And the response was… nothing.

    We raised the alarm and nobody came.

    Urquhart:

    For many in the queer community, we’ve moved well past the point of fearing something might happen, and on to figuring out how we’re going live through this. Our despair is grounded in grim acceptance and practicality. We are learning that life goes on after you accept the fact that no help is coming, and you’ve been left alone to defy or defend or escape, or just bear witness.