I hesitated before voicing any objection to the piece. If someone pitches love and compassion against critical thought, opting for the latter can make you feel as though you’re kicking a puppy. Boundaries become blurred.

Mulready’s piece falls into two clear halves: 1, why I didn’t say anything about my feminist convictions in order not to offend my sister and her trans child, and 2, the arguments I now use in order not to be bothered by said convictions any longer. The arguments themselves are weak (skimming over the gross disparity in female to male vs male to female transition rates, feigning incomprehension at the idea female children might have different motivations to transition compared to male ones, before finally resorting to the racist argument that excluding males from female-only spaces is akin to excluding Black people from white ones). But none of this really matters, because the point isn’t constructing a coherent argument, but abandoning argument altogether.

Mulready claims to have learned “a profound lesson: the importance of humility in the face of something you do not understand”. She reiterates the virtues of incomprehension in response to a twitter comment on there being no such thing as “born in the wrong body”:

“I used to think this, but now I think it is just so wrong to dismiss a person's innermost thoughts about their own self. The mind, the soul, the human: infinitely complex concepts, & no-one knows us like we know ourselves, so I choose to trust what people know about themselves.”

It sounds so nice, doesn’t it? And also so meaningless, since what is in doubt is not how someone feels about themselves – which is, of course, a matter for them alone – but what this should mean for our shared agreement on reality itself.

The response to Mulready’s piece has been largely positive. Indeed, you can feel the relief emanating from people who’ve been worried about finding themselves on the same side as those who send dick pics to JK Rowling or promote experimentation on growing bodies. It’s okay! You’re not turning a blind eye to abuse! You’ve being nuanced, thoughtful and compassionate! Nigella Lawson describes Mulready’s as “a small still quiet voice of calm”. It is as though being willing to change one’s mind is, in and of itself, a heroic yet humble act. Only it isn’t. Plenty of people abandon their principles for reasons of convenience, in order to avoid conflict or because they can’t deal with the guilt of knowing something while doing nothing about it. You decide Bob isn’t hurting Susie after all, or that binders and blockers aren’t a big deal anyway. It’s a coping mechanism, not the mark of maturity.

I don’t judge Mulready for not going in all guns blazing with gender critical arguments. I have several female friends who’ve had to tread carefully around teenagers wanting binders, knowing that an outright refusal would only increase the attraction (and confirm their own status as bigoted, uncomprehending Karens). Unlike me, these women don’t openly criticise the practice of crushing your chest until you can barely breathe in order to be one’s “true self”. They don’t dare and in their position, I wouldn’t, either. What I find objectionable is Mulready positioning silence as a virtuous learning process. “I stayed quiet, I watched and I waited.” And what did you find out? That inner lives are “infinitely complex”. Well, yes. We knew that. But what about bodies in the here and now?