Today is one of those days - special, yet just the same as ever.

Is 60 the New 40?

Sarah says I must not write essays for Facebook. I am apparently meant to be short and pithy. Well in the rest of my life, I am pretty short, and can be occasionally pithy, and even more rarely, witty. However, I have been trained to write 1000 words and no less, on any subject.

When I was a brand new wee baby, my mum received a note from a hospital consultant: it  said "Your daughter is like a wrinkled old man, and highly unlikely to last 6 months". An inability to absorb Vitamin D meant Rickets with a vengeance. I survived but only to have to go to the school gym every morning for most of the next 16 years to undertake really tedious exercises.

And, today,  those exercises having worked, I am finally becoming that forecast wrinkled old man. I have reached 60, but am of a new generation; not even a bus pass or a free tv licence for my trouble!!! Damn.

What does this morning feel like? Well; I can tell I am still living in Manchester – it is pissing down as usual, but at least Sarah’s allotment is getting a good watering (more of that later).  The rain is a minus, but on the other hand, I’ve been to a few of the world’s deserts and Manchester is pretty fantastic compared to them.

I regularly reflect at how very lucky I am to have reached this great age. A few, dear, friends and colleagues have, sadly, already exited stage left and shuffled off this mortal coil.  So, though their loss is a dreadful minus, the fact that the child once forecast to have departed this earth about 59 1/2 years ago, is still thinking and that therefore I am, is a real plus.

In my past, there was a time when my somewhat modest dreams of a family, and suburbia, were only ever destined to be dreams. Yet, today, I have had all that was in those dreams, and so much more. I really do recognise what an amazingly privileged and exciting life I have had – and seem destined to continue to have for some time to come (I hope).

I am so glad that my kids are not boring. They may not have realised quite how much joy and fun they have given to me, as to be frank at times I was (am) such a miserable bastard – Sorry kids – but you are all such a multi-plus. The jokes (are they supposed to be funny?), the messing around, the banter, the laughter, the NOISE!!!, the music, the sound of the door as you arrive in at 4 am --- what an incredible amount of meaning you have given to my life. I used to say that the joy of having children is that they give you a real reason to go to work, and it was not just for peace and quiet. Rather the duties you brought to me as your parent, gave the structure and impetus to work,  to gain promotion, and bring home the money. But those same duties also provided a reason for coming home to the place where real life was happening. So kids, I know you all think I am very weird, but I have to say, I think much the same about all of you, and that is just brilliant.

As for friendships: I am astonished at how many amazing friends I still have, as I must be the worst person in the world for ‘keeping in touch’. I love the fact that now Facebook gives me a small window onto your lives. And when you are happy, I am really happy. Knowing you all has been such a massive multi-plus plus plus.

I also reckon that, much as though another 6 years seems like a form of torture akin to the rack, I have been fortunate enough to have one of the best jobs in the world over the last 20 years. Being an academic means so much more  freedom compared to any other job that is out there. Other jobs often seemed equivalent to being in an Iron Maiden – not only was there pain, but there was so little air or breathing space.

And, so to return to the allotment – the food has been beyond belief. As an ex-smoker, one of the very best reasons I can give anyone for not smoking is the taste of the food. Sarah, my very, very best friend with whom I have been fortunate enough to share most of my adult life not only grows most of our food, she then cooks it in the most amazing ways. That is not the best thing about Sarah – I could fill pages and pages and pages of what I love about Sarah, and what is best about Sarah  – but for this essay, I will stick with one of the biggest pluses which must be the food. And now you all know why my middle age spread is here to stay.

Does being 60 now mean I am old, or is this the new middle age? Is 60 the new 40?

A quick evaluation of the primarily qualitative, rather than quantitative data, above presents this as mostly a very positive point in life. I feel more ‘well in myself’ than I have done in years and for the first time in life I am almost depression free.
On the other hand, some interesting, objective, and more negative structural body developments in recent months include:

• large parts of my beard have changed from mucky orangey/grey to soft, long straight, fluffy white hairs,
• dieting now removes my bum rather than my tum; the middle-age spread (the only thing my father left me) seems destined to remain until the end now (whenever that is),
• a first wrinkle is clearly visible on my forehead,
• arthritic nodes have invaded my fingers,
• bruising around the ankles indicates the veins no longer pump the blood as well as they used to,
• after a lifetime of low blood pressure it has shot up in recent months, blinding most of my left eye - an arrow would have been a more romantic way than 40 years of enjoying deserts (note deserts, not deserts as per the places I have visited -see above), but the deserts have been a great joy I my life -  so I am not complaining,
• the brown hair of my chest and eyebrows is becoming weirdly grey, and
• every now and then, I discover an eight inch long, grey hair, that had not been there the day before, growing out of my knee, or elbow, or shoulder  - I mean, what the hell is that all about.

I intend to do a lot in the next 20 to 30 years - it cannot be much less than that, or I won’t get most of the list finished, and furthermore, Sarah will be really cross with me if I depart before the study is fully tidied and heaven knows how long that will take.

As the Americans would say: I loves you all. Be good and keep on with the adventures.

The Death of the Inclusive,Tolerant, Trans Community?

Odysseus & the Sirens

I was astonished to discover that those  social justice campaigners, Peter Tatchell and Mary Beard, amongst others, had become the latest attack of the twittering trans-sirens.

What have they done? Peter and Mary had signed a letter outlining the problems with the latest 'No-Platforming' campaigns to exclude some speakers from University Campuses. (see Twitter mob who vowed to kill me over transgenderletter have it all wrong)

Like most academics, I am pretty absolute when it comes to free speech – and I am quite clear that the 'no platforming' campaigns demean us as humans, and reduces the  nature of academic debate to mere politicking.

There is a world of difference from speech to pointing guns. Just listening is the start of many a conversation. Without conversation, then effectively, we allow those who killed the staff at Charlie Hebdo to have won.

Peter Tatchell Campaigning on the streets.

I also believe good manners, like free speech, cost us nothing - but the loss of either is an attack on civilization itself.

Peter and Mary and all the other signatories - I am really very sad and sorry that you have also become victims to trans people who have failed to properly read the letter you signed, and if that is an unwarranted assertion, certainly have forgotten their manners.

The Latest Irritations

Over the years, as a feminist (and trans) academic, at times I have felt pretty cross with the likes of academics such Sheila Jeffreys, Germaine Greer, and even Julie Bindel (whom I count as an academic colleague and friend). Julie has changed her views over the years, and no longer writes pieces attacking our community. However, if she wrote now of the development of a vicious streak amongst some in the in the trans community, I might for once, find myself agreeing with her.

I have also find myself amazed, and feeling very cantankerous about the vicious streak of nastiness coming from those 'neo-feminists' who term themselves TERFS or trans exclusionary radical feminists, and who attack the very existence of trans people, especially trans women. But they are a world away the proto-2nd wave feminism of Germaine and Julie.

And, now,  I find myself despairing about the unkindness and in some cases, brutality, coming out of those people terming themselves as the new 'trans activists'. In the early days of the internet we built a trans community and movement based upon the principles of tolerance - but it seems that some, without any sense of history, or irony, are flushing that down the toilet.

Since shortly after it's founding in 1992, Press For Change has had a rule that we work by ‘making friends and not by making enemies’ – and if trans people want true inclusion, not mere tolerance, then I am still of the view that making friends is the way forward for our community.

If we don't recognise our true or potential friends, then we might never notice our enemies.

The Twittersphere

Unfortunately, a tweet (or a Facebook note) takes little energy output - and if people are socially isolated then the computer easily becomes the venting point for their anger and disappointments. I have a certain sympathy for those who find themselves using it in that way. But for those on the receiving end, it can seem very vicious and even frightening. I try to remember that the trans people who do that are just typing their frustrations, and not pointing a gun.

I have been less visible in the trans community in recent months, primarily because of such unkindness. Twitter's 'stings and arrows' can be horribly painful, as I personally know from having been twitter trolled by a trans person last year and, despite every effort to communicate, I ended up having to ask the police to intervene. Another trans person attacked everything I wrote or said. No matter how willing I was to compromise, or to seek a conversation, I realised I was socially and physically unprepared for the sheer brutality of what she was willing to do to undermine me.

Ageing now means I struggle with the related pain and fatigue of a chronic illness. It was all becoming too tiring and preventing me from doing what I do best - teaching law, and giving legal advice to the trans community. As such, I decided to concentrate on those, rather than kill myself engaging with people who wouldn't listen, never mind hear me.

Heroes like Peter Tatchell are regularly putting their lives on the line as they steadfastly seek inclusion, provide education, campaign to reduce poverty, struggle for world peace, and seek justice – in other words, working to create what was once referred to as the 'Kingdom of Heaven  on earth'.

I pray that despite the twittering he will remain strong and stay true to himself. He is one of my heroes.

Discovering a Baby's Gender

How do we Know a Baby's Gender? 

The Wisdom of Hindsight

I am a trans man, and my wife is a trans man's wife - that gives both of us a distinct advantage when thinking about the complexities of sex and gender. My wife is also a Registered General nurse and a Registered Mental Health nurse, so she has seen many baby's being born when training in maternity care, and has nursed people with very different abilities and body shapes. 

What Happens When a Baby is Born?

When a baby is born, most parents rely on the midwife’s cursory glance to tell the baby's sex and gender – but having seen 4 babies born, I can tell you that it is a very cursory glance, and we should be careful before we trust it.

The midwife certainly does not check whether a baby has testes, or a vagina, or uterus or ovaries. They check whether there is a penis of a certain length or not, and then they say “Congratulations, you have a boy (or a girl)”. 

The Difficulty of Sex and Gender

When our children were very young, we had twin babies. My son (aged 3) asked us: 

"Mum, Dad, how do you know the babies are girls?". 

I looked at Sarah, thinking I have just been asked the most important question of my life and I don't know the answer ... but like  a knight in shining armour, Sarah rode to the rescue, and replied 

"Well ... you see we don't know whether they are girls. What we do is make a guess.

"We know that most babies born with vaginas will grow up to be girls, and most babies born with penises will grow up to be boys .... but as you know from Dad, and his friends - Christine, Jonathan etc. that isn't always the case.

"As the baby’s parents we make a guess - but it is only a guess. When the babies get older, if it turns out to be the wrong guess, and either or both of them  have grown up to be a boy, they will tell us.

"And then we can make the changes they would like us to make."

Son’s response: “OK”.

It really is that simple – we don’t know a baby’s gender. We make a guess  - and it may be the right guess or the wrong guess. We cannot decide who our children are going to be, and we are not going to discover what that is until they have grown up. 

As it happens, our female babies have grown up to have a woman's gender identity, and our son has grown up to have a man's gender identity.  

We were not so blind as to believe that either their gender or their sexual orientation was sorted out at the time of their birth.

As children we watched them begin to grow into their gender identities somewhere between the ages of 3 and 5. As teenagers we watched them  begin to grow into their sexual orientations - a process that may well take some time, and be dependant upon who they ultimately fall in love with.

Throughout the developmental periods of our children's lives, I insisted upon saying "When you have a boy friend or girl friend .... "  

One daughter  - she was 14 at the time - asked why I insisted upon doing that when she knew she was straight 

My reply:

 "As a teenager I knew I was bisexual, and was not at all sure whether I would fall in love with a man or a woman. I was lucky enough to meet a person, your mum, whom I fell in love with at first sight, and whom I am still in love with 30 years later. 

"I would like all of you to find the person you will fall madly in love with at first sight - but that is only likely to happen if you keep the whole world in your sights.

"Shut out 50% of the population and you might, sadly, miss them altogether - which would be a terrible shame?"

The Promise of Being a Parent

Being a parent  is a huge responsibility - and most of us try hard to get it right. 

But what happens if a child grows up and is not  the person a parent had either dreamed of, or thought they might become. In fact, they seem the antipathy of that.

Sarah has spoken to many parents who have been distressed because their child has turned out to have different gender identity to the one ascribed to them at birth - and this is what she says:

 "Do you remember the day that tiny baby was born, and you held them in your arms and you made a promise. 

 "A promise that you would give your life, not for them to be rich, or famous, but simply for them to be happy. 

 "Well - today is the day you have to make that promise come true. You are not being asked to give your life, but simply a smile of approval. That's all you have to do. 

"Like most parents of trans kids, three years from now, you will be telling me how you felt you had lost your daughter /son, but now you realise that whilst your child has changed on the outside, they are still the same person just so much happier than they had ever been before. 

 "So -  pull yourself together, and smile. It will be one of the best days work you have ever done in raising a happy child."

Let's be thoughtful parents and give our kids a better set of choices in life than the one we had. Like all parents, I can get irritated with each of the children. I hope to always remember the promise I made, then smile, and ask them what's up.
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