My peakening started with Caitlyn Jenner. What was all the fuss about? She wasn’t the first transgender person to make the news. Chaz Bono anyone? (who I remember as the little girl Cher brought out at the end of the ‘Sonny and Cher Show’). Dr. Renee Richards way back in the 70s? Then there were the bathroom and locker room debates. Surely, it was a ‘no brainer’ that men shouldn’t be in women’s areas, so I was stunned when people argued that this was perfectly acceptable and if women didn’t like it, THEY should be the ones to leave. Then came TWAW, and now it’s the idea that ‘woman’ is a feeling and that ‘people’ have cervixes. Before discovering gender critical sites, I felt like I was the only sane person in a world gone crazy. The stereotypes I thought we’d moved beyond have instead been resurrected with a vengeance. I wondered why feminists weren’t protesting this and was hit with a ‘stupify’ spell when I found out they were actually supporting this, including organizations like Planned Parenthood and NOW.

I remember the women’s movement of the 70s, how hard we fought to be taken seriously rather than dismissed as hysterical, on our periods, or just plain silly. We had to get men to understand how the racy pictures and condescending language created a ‘hostile work environment’ for us. We struggled to break free of the stereotypes that were used to limit us. I thought we had succeeded to a great extent, women more so than men, so that each sex could embrace aspects of humanity that were once denied them. Men could be sensitive and caring, and women could be brave and rational.

I was a tomboy. I preferred to play with Tonka trucks rather than dolls. I liked to wear pants rather than dresses. At one point, I even wanted to have a boy’s name. But I never thought I was a boy. I was a girl who liked boy things. I was a girl who saw that boys got to have all the fun, going out into the woods camping and having careers. Girls stayed at home and learned to cook, sew, clean, and take care of babies. Yuck! In the horror movies I loved, women were weak and ineffectual. They screamed, fell down, and waited for someone to save them. When my mom and I went swimming, she never dove underwater or splashed or played, but complained about getting her hair wet. I wanted none of it. I rejected the role that society would have me play, and fortunately, my parents let me be me. I didn’t like the idea of developing a woman’s body no more than I did the realization that I would end up being short, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I had to learn to cope. And I did. When puberty came on, I accepted it and lost my dislike of femaleness. The ultimate turnaround came with ballet. That was sissy stuff when I was younger, but then I fell in love with it. I shudder to think of what would have happened to me if I’d been brought up today. I would not have been allowed to work these feelings out for myself and come to my own conclusions. I would have been told I was trans and to go on hormones. I had no idea of what it was really like to be a boy, the socialization and pressures they endured. I saw it only from the outside, and it looked fun.

I tried writing to my 20 something niece, asking her if she could explain three things: why so much hostility to anyone who questioned trans, why women’s feelings were being ignored, and why gender stereotypes were being resurrected. Her first response was to ask if I was referring to a specific event. I gave her numerous examples I’d read about or personally observed. She never answered.

Any disagreement with trans ideology is deemed “hatred” and “hurtful.” We have to change how we speak so as to spare their feelings. Yet, self-help books and memes tell us to believe in ourselves and not rely on others for validation. Apparently, that doesn’t apply to trans people. They are made out to be emotionally fragile and utterly lacking in any coping mechanism or resiliency.

The Trans movement has made me “trans apprehensive.” Whereas before, I felt kindly toward transgender people, I now want to avoid them because I don’t want them insisting that I share female space or change my ideas and language to suit them. This has bled over to non-binary people. They can identify how they want and I will be polite in their presence, but they have no right to control what words I use to describe them (they/them rather than he/she/him/her) when they are not around.

When I hear of what children are being taught in schools and reading in magazines, I despair for the future and wonder how I am going to navigate this scary new world. For now, I plan to gather my things and leave if a transwoman enters the locker room; to say that I am uncomfortable if a transwoman comes in to do my mammogram or pelvic exam; to cross out “assigned at birth” on any form I am given; and to continue using the word “woman.”

Thank you for creating this site and offering a way for women to connect and support each other.