Anti-Trans Rhetoric is Fueling a Pandemic of Violence

(Published on Globalhumanrights.org) 

Over the past months, prominent media outlets—including the Guardian and the BBC—have repeatedly published hateful expressions of transphobia. Articles cite high-profile anti-trans figures like JK Rowling and obscure transphobic talking points as open-ended questions—a way of “problematizing” the matter, as if the implication of inquiry creates some distance from the intentional hostility.

Much of this rhetoric is pushed by self-professed feminists. But evidence shows that their exclusionary arguments are harmful to all women, including those who are trans or intersex. Cattrachas, a feminist collective in Honduras supported by the Fund for Global Human Rights, has for the past two decades been documenting details of violence against LGBTQ persons and women in that country. What they’ve found has been clear: when one goes up, so does the other.

Don’t see the connection? Hear me out.

Conservative movements have long sought to define what a “real” woman is and to shame—implicitly or explicitly—anyone who doesn’t meet their standards. This has taken many different forms. For example, some seek to regulate women’s clothing, whether they are pushing for laws that forbid women from wearing headscarves or force them to. Others want to police the testosterone levels of athletes. Even mainstream women’s groups have contributed to policies that harm women, such as Equality Now and the Fawcett Society’s past support for the punitive Swedish model of sex work criminalization.

Anti-trans rhetoric comes from the same anti-feminist well. The move to exclude trans women from all-women spaces, such as bathrooms, is another way to define, restrict, and control the gendered expression of all women. In doing so, it directly affects any woman who doesn’t gender conform—in other words, any woman who doesn’t meet a narrow definition pushed by conservative groups.

I know I am a woman—and that identity is important to me. But it’s not because I have a vagina and like to wear dresses (though I do). It’s not because being a mother has been one of my greatest joys (though it has). It’s certainly not because I meet some stereotypically feminine standard. (In fact, the things people say define me are anything but: I am loud and opinionated. I own a full set of power tools that I use often and well. I am notoriously independent, physically strong, and I work hard to keep it that way.) And nothing about my identity is challenged, threatened, or otherwise nullified by someone else knowing they are a woman too.

By letting trans-exclusionary groups define who gets to call themselves a woman and who doesn’t, we’re accepting that every woman’s appearance—including our makeup, clothing, behavior, and physical attributes—can be policed in the name of “gender purity.” And because the policing of trans and gender queer folks has always been violent, trans-exclusionary rhetoric ultimately justifies misogynist violence.

That’s why it is no coincidence that the worst pandemic of anti-trans violence on record is happening at the same time that violence against all women is on the rise. In the Unites States, 2021 has already been the deadliest year for trans and gender non-conforming people.

I know, of course, that not everyone who makes these arguments or shares these articles deliberately wants to harm women. But at some point, we all have to look at the consequences of our words and actions, regardless of what we think we meant or how we intended them. This goes for the Guardian and the BBC, it goes for self-professed feminists who are harming all women through their anti-trans rhetoric, and it goes for all of us.

Next time someone you know makes an anti-trans “joke” or statement, help them make the connection between rhetoric and real-life violence. It’s literally a matter of life or death.

We women will decide what to wear

August 1, 2018, Copenhagen, Denmark. Mads Claus Rasmussen—AFP/Getty Images

(Article riginally published in Danish in Politiken, July 19, 2021)

On 15 July, the European Court of Justice - the EU's highest court - ruled that EU-based companies are free to ban visible religious symbols and that EU countries can choose to enforce such bans as they see fit. Although the ruling is worded to apply to all religious symbols and dress, experience says it will be applied almost exclusively to Muslim women who want to cover their hair or face or both.

The ban on the wearing of religious symbols raises many red flags for those who care about human rights.

And they should be of great concern in Europe, where more and more countries are restricting the use of headscarves or face veils in public. A 2018 report commissioned by Open Society Foundations found that only six countries in the EU - Croatia, Cyprus, Greece, Poland, Portugal and Romania - have not banned headscarves or face veils in some form or discussed a proposal to do so.

France was the first European country to adopt a general ban on covering one's face in public; the ban came into force in 2011. Denmark joined this dubious European trend in 2018. While both the Danish and French laws are written in a neutral way - they prohibit all persons from covering their face in public unless for specific purposes - the debate and stated motivation for the law was, at least in part, to "liberate" women from the "imposition of the veil". It should be added that although some laws 'only' prohibit face veils while allowing headscarves, the underlying motivation and trend is the same, as evidenced by Thursday's ruling. It is about gradually banning any visual expression of Islam in European countries.

The obsession with headscarves and face veils in the name of tolerance and non-discrimination is deeply misleading.

Firstly, clothing is generally a matter of freedom of expression. If a government imposes its view on how everyone should dress, it interferes with our ability to express ourselves freely, whether this is expressed as a clothing ban ('you must not wear a headscarf') or a requirement ('you must').

Secondly, it also affects our human right to freely express our beliefs when the imposed or prohibited clothing is predominantly linked to a particular religion. UN experts on freedom of religion have repeatedly made it clear that although state religions (such as the Danish one) are allowed, majority religions cannot be imposed on those who do not share that faith. Banning clothing that has a particular meaning in a particular religion is ostensibly neutral, but it is a poor veil for overt discriminatory intent. It may be that everyone in Denmark is forbidden to cover their face in public, but only those for whom covering their face is an expression of their faith suffer from this.

Third, the alleged 'liberation intention' is particularly problematic in overcoming harmful stereotypes and discrimination. When a government says or implies through its policies and actions that most Muslim women who wear headscarves do so because they are 'oppressed', far from liberating each Muslim woman, it deprives her of any autonomy in terms of freedom of expression and freedom of religion. Moreover, if a government maintains the stereotype that all Muslim women are submissive and oppressed, this is not very conducive to integration and understanding in society at large. Moreover, it only affects women and therefore actively contributes to any gender discrimination that may already exist.

From a human rights perspective, all governments have a duty to combat gender inequality across the board. Where gender inequality is reinforced by social norms and religious arguments - whether based on Islam, Christianity, Judaism or another religion - the state must ensure access to information and resources to prevent discrimination and provide redress in cases of abuse.

Indeed, the most disturbing aspect of the headscarf ban is that misplaced 'liberation' policies can make very real problems invisible. Recent studies by Amnesty International show that the Covid-19 pandemic has exacerbated already widespread violence against women in Europe. The victims of this violence are not all Muslims, and certainly not all of them cover their hair. These women need urgent state protection, but instead governments across Europe seem to prefer to spread myths and prejudice.

Thursday's ruling by the European Court of Justice on headscarves will make it easier for governments and businesses across Europe to continue this trend of divesting from real problems, such as gender-based and anti-Muslim violence, while claiming neutrality and tolerance.

But make no mistake, there is nothing neutral about it.

The continued obsession with headscarves and other symbols of Islam in Europe is inherently based on prejudice and will fuel further violence and abuse. The Danish government must take urgent steps to prevent and eliminate all forms of discrimination in the workplace, including discrimination based on religious stereotypes.

Pregnancy, Drug Use, and Why Prison Is Not the Solution

@HuffPost

In New Hampshire, a bill to redefine opioid use or addiction in “custodial parents,” including pregnant women, as child abuse is making its way through the legislature, despite vocal objection from the state’s medical community. Much media treatment of this bill and similar bills in other states presumes women are not generally held criminally responsible for terminating—or losing—a pregnancy.

This illusion is increasingly hard to sustain.

In March 2015, Purvi Patel, a 33-year-old woman in Indiana, was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment for, prosecutors claim, inducing an abortion. Patel has maintained she had a miscarriage, and has never tested positive for any of the abortifacients the prosecution claims she took. In fact, the pathologist for the prosecution partially relied on the long discredited “lung test“ to determine if the recovered fetus had been born alive: a practice from the 17th century disproven as bad science over a century ago. Whether a miscarriage or an induced abortion, it is clear that Patel is in jail for not carrying a pregnancy to term.

Indeed, state legislators increasingly seek to hold women criminally responsible for not having healthy pregnancy outcomes. Since the beginning of this year, at least eight state legislatures have introduced bills to redefine legal personhood as starting at “fertilization” or “conception.” Though voters have generally rejected personhood measures when put to a vote—three times in Colorado alone—they keep resurfacing in new versions.

From a medical perspective, fetal personhood bills make no sense. “Conception“ is not a medical term and is interchangeably used to refer to the moment an ovum is fertilized and the moment a fertilized ovum implants in the uterine lining. “Fertilization“ is a medical term—referring to fusion of male and female gametes to form a zygote—but not all fertilized ova implant in the uterine lining (that is: not all result in a pregnancy), and the precise moment of both fertilization and implantation is hard to determine. As a result, the length of a pregnancy is usually calculated with reference to the pregnant woman’s last period—when she clearly was not pregnant yet—because that moment is an observable factor that can be defined.

There are also obvious logistical problems with fetal personhood bills. An estimated 10 to 20 percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriages, with the actual number likely much higher as many women miscarry before they know they are pregnant. In addition, the risk of miscarriage is higher for specific groups of women, such as older women, women with weight problems, women who have already miscarried, those who have contracted infections or who have immune response issues, and those who regularly use drugs, including alcohol and nicotine.

As a result, the implementation of fetal personhood laws would require unconstitutional discrimination and invasion of privacy. If a fertilized ovum has the same rights as a person after birth, each miscarriage (or failure to implant) would need to be scrutinized for intentional or reckless neglect. Detection would only be possible by registering all incidents of unprotected sex, and effective surveillance would require regular pregnancy testing, in particular of women at risk of miscarriage (think mandatory weekly pregnancy testing for women over 40 until they reach menopause). Of course, no one is advocating this.

Proponents of punitive pregnancy-related provisions have, however, successfully advocated for the growing surveillance of pregnant women from marginalized or stigmatized communities through social services, and in particular through medical providers. The organization National Advocates for Pregnant Women has documented the growing arsenal of state laws that treat drug use and addiction in pregnant women as a form of child abuse. Because health care providers in all states must report child abuse to the authorities, this reframing forces doctors and nurses to breach patient confidentiality for pregnant women who admit to struggling with drug use or addiction. The predictable result is a breakdown in the therapeutic relationship at best, and at worst, a reluctance to seek care at all for the women who arguably need it the most.

Many of these bills are pushed through without consulting the medical community, which is the case for the bill currently pending in New Hampshire. House hearings are under way, and both pediatricians and obstetric-gynecologists will testify to its predictably disastrous effects on the provision of addiction treatment and child welfare.

To be sure, both child abuse and drug addiction are serious matters, which require appropriate state support. Attempts to redefine drug use or addiction as child abuse in pregnant women, however, disregard the medical and psychological needs of both abused children and pregnant women. Advocates of such legislation are attempting to transform the fiction of fetal personhood into law by appropriating the problem of child abuse and punishing pregnant women in need of treatment for substance dependency or addiction.

A fetus is not a child and a women’s right to choose an elective abortion should not be circumvented by legislating punishment for women in need of treatment for substance use disorders. Legislators should listen to the medical community. Whether the conversation is about elective abortion, treatment for substance use disorder, or any other medical intervention, decisions about care are best made by the patient in private consultation with her doctor.

We Are All As Blind To Racism As Men Are To Street Harassment

@HuffPost

These past days, a video tracking an actress walking through selected New York City neighborhoods has gone semi-viral. The video depicts the many (many) times the actress is accosted, harassed and even stalked by men, and was commissioned and produced by the anti-street harassment organization Hollaback!

As advocacy, the approach has, rightly in my view, been celebrated for making street harassment visible to men. Some have tweeted about the irony that this kind of evidence even needs to be produced. Shouldn't it be enough that we, the women who experience street-harassment regularly, say that it exists? But since we all know that it is not enough, solid audio-visual evidence is never a bad thing.

However, the video left me with large question marks and quite a bit of discomfort about its unspoken racial bias. Though the editorializing comments note that the actress was harassed by men of all ethnic or racial backgrounds, most of the men shown on the final video are Black, some Latino, and no one -- as far as I can tell -- white.

This racial bias in the video does not necessarily reflect reality.

While research shows that women of color are more likely to be affected by street harassment than white women, there is precious little actual research on who the harasser tends to be. Testimonials from women indicate that men of all colors harass, that maybe blue-collar workers are more likely to harass, and that street harassment can happen pretty much anywhere. My personal experience is of mostly white male harassers when in western Europe or the United States, and mostly Latino men in Latin America. In other words: I have been harassed mostly by whomever happened to be around.

And maybe geography is the key to the Hollaback! video's racial bias. The video seems to show the actress wandering mostly around communities with predominantly Black or Latino populations. There is no footage from City Island, Greenpoint or Shepherd's Bush, all NYC neighborhoods with predominantly white populations, where street harassment -- I can assure you -- is frequent and loud.

Intentional or not, the racial bias strips the video not only of authenticity and therefore authority, but also of effectiveness. When we continue to convey to (white) women, through imagery, pop culture and literature, that Black men are the main perpetrators of crime, we feed into the undeniable racial injustices in the United States crime processing system.

And that is bad enough.

But we also indirectly teach women and girls to ignore the violence and harassment they might -- and often do -- face from the (white) men who according to the same cultural biases are supposed to be their protectors.

And this latter point is perhaps the biggest question mark for me. I obviously don't get why Hollaback! would want to portray almost exclusively Black men as creepy and predatory. But I really don't get why an organization that prides itself on effective street harassment prevention would want to encourage myopic attention to only a fraction of it, however indirectly.

And I certainly don't understand why this problematic aspect of the video has not been universally highlighted by commentators along with its many strengths. Is it that we, as a society, are as blind to racial injustices as men, generally, are to street harassment?

Sadly, I think we are.

On Stigma and How to Make Safe Abortion Services Scarce in the U.S.

@SheRights

This week, Indiana saw several developments that could help or hurt women’s ability to access the medical care they need when they need it, especially if what they need is an abortion.

On Tuesday, a federal court fixed a time for its evaluation of the constitutionality of Indiana Senate Bill 371 (SB371). And on Wednesday, another bill—Indiana Senate Bill 292 (SB292) was debated in the Senate health committee.

SB371 seeks to limit access to abortion by stigmatizing comprehensive reproductive health clinics as “abortion clinics,” while SB292 seeks to limit access to abortion by stigmatizing medical providers as “abortion doctors.”

At heart of both SB 371 and SB 292 is the notion that clinics and medical providers who provide abortions somehow are different and therefore merit calling out.

Yet, as the very public schism between Susan B. Komen and Planned Parenthood in 2012 made clear, abortion is just one of the health services a comprehensive clinic provides. In the case of Planned Parenthood, only 3 percent of the services provided nationwide are abortions. So if one were to name Planned Parenthood clinics after the services most frequently provided, it might be the “HIV and Cancer Prevention Clinics” or, appropriately, the “Planned Pregnancy Clinics.”

Likewise, defining a doctor or midwife who is willing to perform abortions (surgical or not) as an "abortion doctor" or "abortionist" is equivalent to describing your most well-stocked local grocer as the “Gluten Free Bread Dealer.” Sure, it may be near impossible to obtain gluten-free bread in your neighborhood, and for most it won’t matter. But if you have celeriac disease, it is significant that someone is willing to take valuable shelf-space up with the one kind of bread you can eat without getting a stomach-ache.

But of course the point of Indiana’s bills is not to accurately describe what goes on in reproductive health clinics, or to dignify medical providers with descriptors that go to what they actually do. The point is to stigmatize abortions as bad, and the clinics and doctors who provide them as worse. The corollary of this thinking is that such “bad” clinics and people must be subject to more stringent government oversight. The ultimate objective is to make it very hard for anyone to provide or obtain a legal and safe abortion.

And it works. When Texas imposed more stringent rules on “abortion clinics” in 2013, at least a dozen clinics closed down. New restrictions allegedly proposed in Louisiana could take away any possibility for obtaining a legal and safe abortion in that state.  This week, Mikki Kendall recounted how Illinois laws allowing for the separation of service providers into those who do and those who don’t provide abortions almost cost her her life.

No one, however, should be under the misapprehension that making abortion less accessible will make it less prevalent. In countries where abortion is illegal, for example, women and girls who need to terminate their pregnancies still find ways to do so—usually unsafely. Researchers from the World Health Organization have called unsafe abortion “a preventable pandemic,” and estimates suggest that approximately 68,000 women per year die from complications caused by unsafe abortions. Yet abortion, when provided early in the pregnancy, is one of the safest medical procedures around, with less than 0.05 percent risk of complications needing hospital care.

In other words, it is not that abortion is an unsafe medical procedure. It is that laws limiting access to abortion—such as the laws debated in Indiana this week—make it unsafe. Instead of stigmatizing doctors who will provide abortions, we should stigmatize those who won’t.