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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EMMA STEIN
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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.