T

witter is no stranger to con-
troversy, so it comes as little 
surprise that J.K. Rowling, 
author of the Harry Potter series, has 
come under fire for some bad remarks 
regarding transgender people. But 
this time, there’s something far more 
important than another poor-taste 
“cancel culture” debate or reminding 
people that freedom of speech doesn’t 
mean freedom from social consequenc-
es. Unlike most bad tweets, Rowling’s 
can do tangible harm — and they already 
have — through the spread of dangerous 
misinformation and the exploitation of 
marginalized communities.
Rowling has explicitly categorized 
herself as “speak(ing) the truth” in 
these tweets, despite spreading mis-
information at almost every turn. She 
made a show of responding to the use of 
“people who menstruate” rather than 
“women” in a sarcastic tweet. As both 
a woman in her 50s and a professional 
writer, she should know the two terms 
are not synonymous, transgender 
people notwithstanding — menopause 
exists, as do hysterectomies. On her 
website, in response to the condemna-
tion she got for her tweets, she wrote, 
“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 confirma-
tion certificates may now be granted 
without any need for surgery or hor-
mones — then you open the door to any 
and all men who wish to come inside. 
That is the simple truth.” This would 
have merit if we had bouncers at every 
bathroom door, but we don’t. Nothing 
was ever stopping men from walking 
into a women’s restroom — they won’t 

go through the trouble of getting a cer-
tificate to do it now. Sex crimes perpe-
trated by someone to take advantage of 
the legal provisions afforded to trans-
gender people are rare. Trans people 
avoiding bathrooms out of fear and 
trans youth being sexually assaulted 
because they couldn’t choose the saf-
est bathroom are depressingly com-
mon. That is the simple truth.
These deceptive claims do have 
shreds of truth to them in that people 
who menstruate are typically women 
and men aren’t physically prevented from 
entering female restrooms. The same 
cannot be said of many of Rowling’s other 
arguments. She warns of “the increasing 
numbers (of trans people) who seem to 
be detransitioning.” In truth, they are 
overwhelmingly the minority. Eight 
percent of trans people have detransi-
tioned, the majority only doing so tem-
porarily, and the most common reason 
is pressure from parents; in full, only 
0.4 percent of trans people detransition 
after realizing transitioning wasn’t for 
them. To claim the risk of regretting 
transition is significant is a bold-faced 
lie. The risks associated with detransi-
tioning are far more real and far worse; 
people who detransitioned in some 
fashion were almost twice as likely to 
attempt suicide than those who hadn’t. 
Even more blatant a lie is the claim that 
minors are being prescribed hormones 
indiscriminately. It is downright impos-
sible for anyone in the United Kingdom, 
Rowling’s own country, to start hor-
mones until they are 16 — and those who 
do start so young have to go through 
plenty of other hoops first. Sixteen is 
generally the earliest an American can 
start hormones as well. And yet, she 

likens hormone therapy to “conversion 
therapy” for gay and lesbian youth and 
claims hormones are overprescribed like 
antidepressants. (I wish I had known 
about that when I spent months search-
ing for a provider willing to see me for 
hormone replacement!) By the way, that 
“lifelong path of medicalisation” doesn’t 
need to be lifelong unless someone’s body 
can no longer produce sex hormones 
(they’re needed to prevent osteoporosis). 
Otherwise, you can stop at any time 
and your body will return to its natu-
ral hormone levels and even reverse 
many of the changes caused by hor-
mone replacement.
One of the most troubling aspects 
of Rowling’s rhetoric is how she dis-
guises it as being in the interest of cis-
gender women (e.g. public restrooms 
and “people who menstruate” tweets) 
and/or gay, bisexual and lesbian youth. 
Her “conversion therapy” argument is 
the most obvious example of the latter, 
comparing the very real, very horrific 
abuse of LGBTQ+ children (and yes, that 
includes conversion therapy specific 
to trans kids) to potentially life-saving 
health care that must purposefully be 
sought out and asked for, if one can even 
find a doctor who both can and will help 
them. This isn’t the first time Rowling 
has exploited gay people as a means 
to an end; claiming that Dumbledore, 
a main character in her Harry Potter 
series, was gay all along while refusing 
to write so much as a throwaway line to 
prove it is textbook queerbaiting.

4

Thursday, July 16, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
OPINION

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Ann Arbor, MI 48109
 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at 
the University of Michigan since 1890.

 BRITTANY BOWMAN
Editorial Page Editor

Alanna Berger
Zack Blumberg
Brittany Bowman
Emily Considine
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Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board. 
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.

EMMA STEIN
Editor in Chief

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

RAY AJEMIAN | COLUMNIST

Ray Ajemian can be reached at 

rajemian@umich.edu.

J.K. Rowling’s transphobia isn’t just a Twitter rant

A

classic illustration of the 
problematic side of racial jus-
tice work is highlighted in the 
hit HBO series “Insecure,” where the 
leading character Issa Dee finds her-
self, a well-intentioned Black millen-
nial, navigating her unfulfilling career 
in a hilariously tone-deaf, mostly 
white nonprofit organization. “We Got 
Y’all,” the name of the organization, is 
in itself a play on words that comple-
ments the performative, hand-waving 
saviorism in which the non-Black, 
Indigenous and People of Color 
(BIPOC) who make up the organi-
zation use their mission of social 
justice to ultimately seem “heroic,” 
or like they’re “good” people, all 
while ignoring Issa’s opinions and 
consistently shutting her out.
Like Issa, I am also a Black millen-
nial female philanthropist. Like many 
University of Michigan students, I 
have spent my time on campus doing 
numerous outreach events to BIPOC 
youth in the Washtenaw County area 
and beyond, including Metro Detroit. 
I am also a director of a 501(c)(3) non-
profit organization that provides free 
music education in New York City to 
underprivileged children, the majority 
of whom are BIPOC. When the pan-
demic rattled New York City in early 
April, my organization was quick to 
leverage our privilege and influence 
to start a new virtual initiative with 
professional musicians and a focus on 
students in homeless shelters. When 
it came to COVID-19, our response 
was swift, intentional and unanimous. 
Then, the protests started. And, rather 
unsurprisingly, crickets chirped.
At first, I was hesitant to break the 
silence. Why wasn’t anybody saying 
anything? Isn’t the community we 
serve largely Black? Were they wait-
ing for me to say something — the 
sole Black person? Once I started 
composing my feelings, I realized I 
had more to say than I had for the last 
seven years of serving on the board. I 
finally realized that I had never really 
had a voice to begin with; I had never 
been listened to or approached for my 
opinion, and my voice had been con-
sistently ignored and diminished.
As we continue to be incited by 
anger and pain surrounding the 
untimely, unjust deaths of Black peo-
ple at the hands of police, we have 
become so much more empathetic. 
For those of us already working in 
the racial justice space — whether 
that means as philanthropists in 
nonprofits focused on racial ineq-
uity, as student volunteers in edu-
cational initiatives, as public school 
teachers or even as civil rights 
lawyers — the Black Lives Matter 
movement strikes a particularly 
stronger chord, since the pain and 

unjustness of systemic racism hit 
closer to home.
The question then becomes: If I am 
not Black and it is my job to address 
racial injustice, how can I be an ally to 
Black people without being a savior? 
The answer, quite frankly, is surpris-
ingly uncomplicated, and at the risk 
of sounding cliché, it starts by taking 
a look in the mirror.
The only fail-safe way to avoid 
being a savior to Black people is by 
first and foremost recognizing the 
fact that you are, in fact, not Black. 
The oppression of Black people and 
the anti-Black experience is not 
yours. The BLM movement is not 
yours to co-opt — you may not use it 
to seek praise or recognition for lit-
erally just doing your job when that 
job is to address racial injustice. Ask 
yourself this: Before the BLM move-
ment, was the purpose of your work 
to highlight your accomplishments, 
or to gain attention or notoriety in 
your profession? What, if anything, 
has changed now? Are you seeking 
to further yourself at the expense of 
Black people and a movement about 
the oppression of Black people to 
seem heroic or virtuous?
The racial justice space needs to 
revisit how we even approach racial 
inequity. The saviorism inherent in 
our work that might have once moti-
vated us must now be actively undone. 
Even if the actual work we do does not 
change as a result of this movement, 
it is time our philosophy does. Now, 
we must accept that it is not enough to 
provide a “helping hand” based on our 
privilege to address inequity. Instead, 
we must identify the root causes of 
these inequities and actively disman-
tle them. As for my organization, my 
advice to the board was to hire (and 
generously compensate) a Black pro-
fessional Diversity, Equity and Inclu-
sion consultant who is highly literate 
to help guide us. While it’s my job to 
address racial injustice as part of our 
organization’s mission, it’s not my 
job to fix our racism problem. And 
until my organization starts to look 
like the communities we serve, 
we’ll need to give more Black peo-
ple a seat at the table. Let us speak. 
Listen. Don’t silence us.
Black people, who have been con-
sistently dismissed, marginalized and 
exploited, are now facing a new threat: 
virtuous non-Black “allies.” If your 
job during the BLM movement is to 
address racial injustice, then treat it 
as such — your job. For once, this isn’t 
about you. This is not your story to tell. 

What if my job is to be a savior?

NISHA HOLLINGSWORTH | OP-ED

Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Nisha Hollingsworth is a Ph.D. 

candidate in the College of Engineering 

and can be reached at 

nrhollin@umich.edu.

