We create stories of our lives. What good do they do? Here are alternative narratives:
I am autogynephiliac. This means that I could have been an ordinary heterosexual male, but through a lack of self-control developed a fetishistic perversion. This means that when my sister refused to allow me to see her children, that was entirely reasonable.
I am trans. This is an innate gift: I was born this way, and transition has been my destiny. However transition remains difficult, and I have shown courage and True Strength carrying it out.
What might I get from a narrative? I might believe that I am a good person, and reasonably safe from harm.
But it becomes a burden when I need to protect it. Kay Brown is merely wrong, in an uninteresting way, but her transphobic hatred of the gynaephiles can only affect me if I need that second narrative to be true. Then any doubt of it casts me in doubt and confusion. And her caring so much, that she spews such hatred over so many years, comes from her narrative: that there are true transsexuals, that she is one, and that the fakes just make it hard for the real ones. All her suffering is my fault, for pretending to a status I do not deserve.
The narrative helps me believe I am safe, and that I am a good person deserving happiness. Threats to the narrative make me doubt my safety, goodness and desert. So I devote my energies to protecting the narrative.
In The Pilgrim’s Progress, Pilgrim is in the Slough of Despond carrying a dreadful burden, and then he realises that Jesus died for him, and his burden falls from his back. Whether or not you believe the literal truth of this central story of our civilisation, it might free me from the need for my own narrative. God Loves Me. Therefore I am good enough, safe enough, deserving enough.
Here is a better narrative: I express myself female because I want to. I have a right to, and can change if I want- I have done, before. What causes my desire does not matter. I have a right in this to do what makes me happy. Most women accept me simply as me, and that is enough.
I see the narratives for Trans issues. I am sure I have other narratives, other ways of living with myself or feeling safe; and I want rid of them. They will get in the way of my responding in the moment to the actual circumstances (as well as I can judge them).
The narrative has another value, which is to grant us admission to women’s space. If I am a woman, then I am entitled to women’s space. Not according to this blog I came across:
Trans genderism, through intimidation, death threats and sexual bigotry, pushes one giant act of erasure: they seek to destroy all women-only spaces, which means erasing any possibility of feminist advancement.
All women are my victims. I am a monster. Nothing will persuade her otherwise.
Actually, I enter women’s space on sufferance. Any woman in a public loo could make it very embarrassing for me. There is a hard core of TERFs who will never accept me as a woman; but most women accept me as an honorary woman. They live, and let live. They accept ambiguity and anomaly. My holding the narrative or not does not mean I will not be embarrassed or excluded; only the tolerance of most women keeps me safe- enough.