There’s quite a bit of public noise about the opprobrium, silencing, no-platforming, and even threats to livelihoods that some gender-critical feminists have suffered over the last couple of years.
Those stories are true, and I don’t mean to minimise them in this short blog: it happens, and when it does it is disgraceful and shocking – and sometimes seriously harmful for the victims. But I worry that those cases are having a greater chilling effect than the true risks merit. The bullies only have to make a few high-profile examples for many other people who might otherwise speak up to be frightened into silence.
So this, for a change, is a positive story of speaking up without adverse effects.
I have written widely on the law relating to sex, gender and gender identity. Most of my writing has appeared on this blog, but I’ve also been published in the Employment Lawyers Association Briefing, the Discrimination Law Association Briefing and the Scottish Law Times. My blogs here regularly get viewing figures in the thousands – over 16,000 in the case of Submission and Compliance, my long read from February about Stonewall’s excessive influence. Some of my writing has been controversial even among members of the Legal Feminist collective: for instance, when I wrote (here) about Mridul Wadhwa’s appointment as CEO of Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre, I used masculine pronouns, because it seemed to me important to write in a manner firmly grounded in reality. These days, for the same reason, I don’t use the expressions “trans woman” or “transwoman”, but “trans-identifying male” or “trans-identifying man”: again, I feel increasingly strongly that it is necessary to use words that reflect reality. Those choices are not universally endorsed by my Legal Feminist friends and colleagues, and some have said that they would feel unable to retweet in their own names material of that nature. (Despite disagreeing on this, we have stayed friends. Amazing, isn’t it?)
But gender extremists would go much further, and characterise some of my writing as hateful. And I am aware of many colleagues in the legal profession who broadly agree with what I write, but feel too fearful to speak up themselves. Given the demonisation of views such as mine and the resulting climate of fear, I think it’s worth telling the story that is no story.
The story
I have suffered no serious adverse consequences from my gender-critical writing.
The End.
That’s it. Sorry – it’s rather a boring story, but it’s true. Actually, I can add this. Not merely have I suffered no serious adverse consequences: I have reaped very considerable benefits, chief among which is the addition of the rest of the Legal Feminists to my professional network.
I’m careful, of course. I make sure that everything I write is grounded in solidly evidenced fact, or what is – at least in my genuine view – a correct interpretation of the law. I don’t get into angry Twitter spats; indeed, I don’t have a personal Twitter account at all, which means that if I am tempted get angry on Twitter (and the site is a rage engine), I have the sane calm voices of the Legal Feminists to hold me back from tweeting anything from the joint Twitter account that could harm our collective reputation.
I’m lucky. I’m reasonably senior and established, not a precarious beginner. I’m self-employed, so I don’t have an employer breathing down my neck. The world (or at least the part of the world that matters for these purposes, which is our professional clients – solicitors) understands that barristers are individuals whose views are not to be ascribed either to their Chambers or to their clients; and indeed that a set of Chambers isn’t really the kind of thing that has a view “of its own” on these sorts of subjects anyway. So there would be no legitimacy for my Chambers to try to silence me – and to its credit, although of course there has been some grumbling, it has made no serious attempt to do so.
In addition, because I am a lawyer, my professional regulator is full of lawyers, too. That’s comforting, because it means that I have good grounds for trusting it not to be tempted to discriminate against me on grounds of my gender-critical views, or to mistake belief in material reality for hate. So although complaints to my professional regulator have been threatened, the prospect doesn’t alarm me.
Be a little bit braver today.
It’s amazing, isn’t it? Among the Legal Feminists, we agree about many things, disagree about others, discuss and debate them, and remain friends and colleagues.
Perhaps women with Twitter accounts get more targeted? Just a thought.
Almost certainly.
Absolutely. The tendency towards a spiral of degeneracy in replies is shamefully pronounced on that platform. And I’d add that we are targeted even more frequently if the woman is also a trans person.
Love your work Naomi and whilst I agree with you – in general – that for most people, being cancelled has no effect, for those of us in academia it has a devastating effect. I think this has less to do with the fact that we are academics and much more to do with the fact that universities have become a bit of an epicentre for attempts to take cancellation further. Prof Stock is a perfect example. The protestors were not content with protesting. The protestors (including her own union sadly) were asking her to be dismissed and they knew that they were creating a climate which made it more and more difficult for her to continue her post with university support. So, I agree. Too much ‘noise’ exists about ‘cancel culture’ and ‘cancellation’ and not enough noise is made about the intentional degradation of someone’s working environment.
I am glad that speaking out on this issue has not rebounded on you.
An academic career, especially in the sciences, depends more on informal networks and hugely over-subscribed grants than does a law career. I feel I am learning that open debate is not expected or welcome – mild disagreement among people who basically agree is the most that is acceptable.
I am not sure the trans-activists are the exception. Rather I think that it is those of us who are willing to really argue without condemning those who disagree with us who are unusual. But then I wonder how I will feel if ten years down the line, we have lost this fight? Will I still feel so tolerant?