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5年前
多名哈利波特演员公开撕罗琳？她长文反击
从上周末开始，关于“罗琳歧视跨性别群体”的争论，就一直没有停息下来过。
随着时间的推移，这件事情却没有被人遗忘，而是愈演愈烈——支持者和反对者唇枪舌炮，将战场扩大，甚至不断发展延伸。
报姐之前的推文中，也有说到过这个事情（戳这里复习）。
不过，这里还是给不清楚这件事的朋友简单说一下。
事情的起因，是推上的一篇文章：《为有月经的人创作一个更为平等的后新冠世界》。
而罗琳直接转发开喷了：“有月经的人？我确信这种人应该有个称呼吧。”
直接叫Woman，不行吗？
她的言论引起了轩然大波，因为将“来月经的人=女性”，实际上，是否定跨性别者的存在。
跨性别男性，也就是生理性别为女、心理性别为男的跨性别者，也有一部分还未完全变性的，可能仍然还在来月经，但他们不应当属于“女性”，而被归类为男性。
反过来，跨性别女性，她们没有月经，但仍然被归属在女性范畴。
罗琳的言论中，直接将来月经=女性，让很多跨性别者感到失望：性别这个概念不应当如此使用，应该尊重跨性别人群的心理性别。只要ta们心理认为自己是什么性别，就应该被以该性别对待。
这是一个一直以来的争议论题：如果一个人的心理性别为女，那么，即使TA没有经过任何变性手术，也可以被当做女性看待吗？就可以进女厕所、女更衣室吗？就可以以女性身份参加女性运动比赛吗？
在反驳时，罗琳说：“如果性别不真实存在，又何谈“同性之爱”？如果性别不真实存在，那么全球女性，因为性别而面临歧视的现实也被抹杀。
我认识也爱着跨性别人群，但抹除性别的概念，也抹杀了很多人讨论自己生活的能力。说真话，并不代表仇恨。”
这条简单的表态推文，彻底引爆了舆论，被大量反对者抵制：“医学界广泛共识证实了跨性别者，并敦促人们予以肯定。但你却在抹杀他们！”
还有些人表示：您根本不爱跨性别者，也不在乎他们。你的书籍曾经带给我爱与勇气，我那么喜欢你！我那么喜欢哈利波特！没想到你是这样的人！！
有人翻出来她支持名声不佳的“反跨性别人士”Maya Fostater的言论。
美国纪录片《小太阳大愿望》中的跨性别兄妹“鲁卡”和“莲”
J.K.罗琳？
她有那么大的影响力，但她却用这个影响力做了什么？她一直在用这个影响力号召其他人不要接受跨性别群体！
她是一个彻彻底底的、歧视、恐跨的激进女权！
作为《哈利波特》的作者，罗琳的言论，在外网引起了轰动，也渐渐有激动的反对者开始涌入《哈利波特》相关人员的推特、Ins，要求他们站出来表态。
“不要让罗琳错误的观点，影响到更多哈迷。”
作为哈利波特系列电影的出品方，华纳针对罗琳的言论，发表了一份声明。
“华纳兄弟在包容性方面的立场十分坚定，我们希望能够培养多样性、包容性的文化。”
“我们珍视故事创作者，但也充分意识到：我们有责任去培养同理心，倡导人们对所有群体的理解，尤其是那些和我们有内容合作的人。”
而拥有哈利波特IP的环球主题公园也表示：“我们的核心价值观包括多样性、包容性和尊重。欢迎任何人来这享受时光的地方。除此之外，我们不予进一步置评。”
简单来讲，华纳兄弟和环球的态度——基本上就是事不关己高高挂起，我劝了，听不听是她的事情。
但比起官方绝对不得罪所有人的圆滑声明，哈利波特的演员们，却要旗帜鲜明得多，直言了断地“向她开炮”。
秋张的演员梁佩诗转发了一系列跨性别黑人女性慈善项目的链接。
金妮的演员邦妮发声“跨性别女性也是女性，我看到你，并爱你。”
卢娜的演员发声：“跨性别人群学着接受自己、爱自己已经足够有挑战性，社会不应再给他们增加这样的痛苦。”
赫敏的演员艾玛，分享了一张自己穿着跨性别T恤的照片，并表示——
“跨性别人群无需他人来定义，他们应该过自己的生活，而不应该总是被质疑或被告知自己不是怎样的人。”
“我希望我的跨性别粉丝知道，我和世界上许多其他人，一直看着你，尊重你，爱着真正的你。”
哈利的演员丹尼尔撰写了长文，在感谢罗琳对他人生的巨大改变后，也发表了反对的看法。
“跨性别女性就是女性。任何相反的言辞都会抹杀跨性别者的身份和尊严，并且违背专业医疗保健协会提供的所有建议。而这些专业人士对于这件事情，比罗和我都专业的多。他们很多都受到过歧视，而我们应当给予更多支持，而不是否定和进一步伤害。”
他同时还对认为罗琳的言论伤害到自己感情的哈迷表示，希望不要让言论影响到对书的感情。
“书中说，爱是宇宙中最强大的力量，可以战胜一切；书中说，力量存在于多样性之中，对于‘纯种’的教条式追求会导致针对弱势群体的压迫……如果你曾经共情，曾经因此受助，那么这就是你和这个故事的联系。
这份联系是神圣的，没有人可以触碰到这一点。”
但最引人注目的是，神奇动物系列主角演员小雀斑站出来的发声。
“我想表明我的立场：我不同意罗的言论。”
他表示：“尊重跨性别者是一种文化需要，多年来我一直在努力不断地教育自己，这是一个持续的过程。”
在小雀斑曾经出演的《丹麦女孩》中，他扮演的角色，就是一位饱受痛苦的跨性别者。
因此，他也一直做过很多关于跨性别者的调查，在几年中，一直坚持不懈地为他们发声。
“跨性别女性是女人，跨性别男性也是男人，非二元性别是真实存在的。
我永远不想代表群体发言，但我知道，我身边的跨性别者对不断质疑他们身份的声音感到厌倦，因为这种质疑也会导致暴力和虐待。他们只是想平静地生活，现在是时候让他们这样做了。”
一石激起千层浪，一时间，所有人都在表态，所有人都在发声。
罗琳的评论之中，每个人都在指责她对于跨性别者的不尊重，认为她恐跨、认为她歧视跨性别人群。
但罗琳的反对者的评论下面，却也都是指责：
“如果男人只要声称‘我是女人’，就可以大摇大摆地进入女囚室强奸狱友，直接进入女厕所和女更衣室，参加比赛抢走本应属于女性的金牌？这不是跨性别者的问题！是对女性权利的侵略！”
就在所有人吵成一团的时候，罗琳又站出来，再次发了一篇长长长长长的文章，阐述自己的观点，进行反驳。
“尽管我成为众矢之的——但我，拒绝低头！”
全文如下：
This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.
For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.
My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.
All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.
Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Berns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.
I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.
What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.
I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.
If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.
But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).
So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?
Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.
Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.
The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.
The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.
The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.
Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.
The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018, American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:
‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’
Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’
Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.
The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’
The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people. The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.
When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’
As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.
I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.
We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.
I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much. It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.
But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.
Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.
I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.
I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.
I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.
If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.
I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.
So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.
On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity. I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.
Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.
It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”
Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.
But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.
The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.
The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.
All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.
简单概括一下这篇文章，罗琳最开始，说了这件事情的来龙去脉。
“去年12月，我在推特上支持了Maya。她认为性别由生物学决定、性别二元论，而法官认为她的想法不受保护，她活该丢掉工作。
但其实，我几年前就开始研究跨性别问题了。我做过研究、关注舆论、也亲身和很多跨性别者讨论过这个问题，甚至可以称得上专业、然而在研究中，我手滑的一次点赞，对一位认为“女同不愿意和有丁丁的跨性女约会不代表偏执”的女权者的支持，引来了大量的反对谩骂。
所以说，我支持Maya的时候，就知道会发生什么事：我会被辱骂威胁，会被人说在宣扬仇恨，会被人烧书反对。
但我没想到的是，我公开表态之后，却有很多人悄悄来告诉我，他们感谢支持我的发声。
这些人聪明善良而富有同情心，也有很多人自己就是跨性别者，或者从事跨性别相关领域。他们也一直担心，近年兴起的 激进跨性主义，也就是“我自己认为是什么性别就是什么性别”， 会给年轻人、同性恋者、女性，以及跨性别者带来危险。
但他们不愿意公开表达，因为如果公开表达，就会和我一样，被称为恐跨、歧视，被冠以贬义的“TERF”，也就是排斥跨性别的激进女权。
但——她们真的是TERF吗？
所谓的Terf，也包括一个同性恋孩子的母亲，担心自己的孩子为了逃避对同性恋的欺凌而要求变性。
包括一个因为玛莎百货宣称“允许任何声称自己是女性的男人进入女更衣室”，而拒绝光临玛莎百货的奶奶。
而且，在所谓的激进女权为女性权利而奋斗的时候，也包括了生理性别为女的跨性别男士啊！”
而后，她开始陈述自己表态的五个原因。
“第一，我有一个给妇女儿童的慈善会。我关注的项目都是针对女性的，比如家暴、性虐。但是激进跨性主义（自己定义性别）之下，性别都不存在了，怎么针对女性？
第二，激进跨性主义对儿童的教育、儿童安全的保障，都会产生影响。
第三，言论自由，我有公开表达自己想法的权利。
而第四点开始，罗琳开始以自己的经历，作为例证。
“十年前，想变性的大多是男性；而现在，却完全反过来了——英国想要接受变性手术的小女孩增加了44倍。
为什么？因为我们正处于一个厌女的时代！现今女权主义受到抨击、网络文化充斥色情。我从未见过女性被贬低、非人化到现在这种地步。
如果晚出生30年，我也可能会尝试变性—— 摆脱女性身份的诱惑是巨大的，我父亲一直说更喜欢儿子。
对于年轻的女孩来说，对性别带来的枷锁感到愤怒十分自然。
而跨性激进主义，也让变性手术更加常见，甚至鼓动宣传人们进行跨性手术，不再需要曾经漫长而严格的评估、心理治疗和阶段性转变的过程。
但……跨性手术，对于身体的影响却是不可逆转的。
而最后一个原因，她提到了自己的过去。
“我现在已经在公众视野中超过20年了，却从来没有公开谈论过我是一个家庭暴力和性侵犯的幸存者。
这并不是因为我羞于启齿，而是因为它们造成了巨大创伤。”
“我现在提这些事情并不是为了获得同情，而是声援有过像我一样处境的众多女性，不想她们因为对单一性别空间的担忧而被嘲讽为歧视者”
“在第一次婚姻中，我遭遇了家暴。
在二十几岁的时候，我曾经遭受过一次严重的性侵犯。
即使我现在的伴侣温柔体贴，但被异性伤害的伤疤从未消失。我不希望让本就已经十分艰难的女性更不安全。
如果有男人声称自己是女人，就可以获得性别确认证书，而不需要进行任何手术、荷尔蒙干预，那么，就相当于对所有的男人打开了大门。”
所以，尽管已经成为了众矢之的，但我拒绝低头。
我支持同性恋和异性恋，支持男性、女性和跨性别者，但我仍然认为社会应当保障弱势群体的安全，保障那些希望能够保留自己单一性别空间的女性。
除了很小部分享有特权，或是幸运地从未遭受男性暴力、性骚扰的女性，实际上，这一类希望抱有自己单一性别空间的女性是占大多数的。
但她们担心被认为恐跨人士，而保持沉默。
我所要求的，我所希望的，就是将人们宣扬的同理心与同情心，延伸到数以百万的女性身上。
她们唯一的原罪，就是希望自己的心声能够被倾听，而无需担心受到威胁辱骂。
到了现在，这件事情两方几乎都已经发出了长文，来阐述自己的想法。
两边都有受到伤害的人，都是希望社会在进步，能够让更多的人拥有属于自己的自由。
但……这个社会就是这样。
并不是所有事都非黑即白，也很难有一个让所有人都满意的解决方案。
这样的争吵，恐怕，还要继续很久……
2年前
温哥华天空
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