There’s this particular thing about the works of Frank Herbert that always thrilled me. It’s revealed in Dune that the terrifying shock troops of the Emperor are conscripts from a prison world. The Sardaukar, these fearsome and respected warriors are in fact the scum of civilization left to fight amongst themselves on a planet thats ecosystem was shattered by forbidden atomics. Out of these dregs of dissidents, criminals and the general unwanted only the most ruthless survive for any length of time. The warlords and despots, the berserkers, the vicious and wild endure savage storms, burning radiation and being starved to the brink of ruin… And then they’re recruited. All because life lived on the edge of a blade had honed them into ferocious fighters. They are blood-thirsty zealots who charge into battle without a second thought because they only live for the thrill of violence now their basic needs are met.
Teenage boy me loved that shit.
Not just ‘cause it was ten-out-of-ten sick-nasty world-building, but because it spoke to me of how the pressures of the world can shape you. The story unfolds to reveal that the humble desert dwellers on the planet of Arrakis have also lived a life on the edge of a blade (one even sharper than that of the Sardaukar) and they are even more terrifying. Within this absolute balls-out rad sci-fi concept was a nugget of truth about humanity that I adore: You are shaped by your circumstances.
The pressure of the world around you can crush you, but it can also forge you.
We love those pithy sayings like “That which doesn’t kill me…” etc etc. There are so many variations riffing on the concept of strength, or lack of it, that have been born by that proposition. But I always preferred the way old Frank was putting it out there. The original Nietzsche is great, don’t get me wrong, but Frank Herbert was talking about communities and the toxic environments they inhabit, not just about personal growth.
There’s an immense pressure in the current ecosystem despite it being exerted unseen and misunderstood by the vast majority of people. It is subtle, it is devious, and it is exhausting. I don’t have the energy anymore to explain exactly what was happening when our current Prime Minister was asked in a live debate “what is a woman?” and answered with “an adult female”. I literally cannot face writing about it other than to say it is an anti-trans dogwhistle. And while it's not “radioactive-hurricane-bad” like the storms of a fictitious prison world, it is pretty toxic.
[Insert meme of the little dog sitting in a burning house saying, “this is fine” ‘cause I just described our Prime Minister winking at the people who want to eradicate trans people as being just “toxic”.]
I suppose I’m getting used to it. There was a time, a few years back, when I was petrified. A time when the headlines ground me down. It was a hellish, invisible prison wondering just who around me was voting for the party that wanted to explicitly eradicate me or the one who didn’t want to bother acknowledge me. When people like me became the political football of our most recent federal election, I was afraid. Because even when politicians are sidelined for being too extreme they can still end up with their own show on Sky News. What? The conservative media hand-in-hand with conservative politicians? *Gasps, clutches pearls*
But something changed for me. Politicians and religious leaders seeking to isolate us, to eradicate us, to deride and ridicule us? It’s nothing new. But the strangely uplifting thing that occurred to me is the realisation that they will never stop me being trans. I’m not trans because of the pills I take. I take the pills because I’m trans. Prevent me from getting them and I’m still trans. Sure, you can make legislation to stop people from accessing surgery, but they can’t legislate against people letting their hair grow long or legislate against them cutting it short or wearing a binder. They can’t legislate against me speaking in a softer register. It isn’t possible to make “being trans” illegal here anymore than you can make it illegal to be a ginger. It would first require the fall of our state as we know it, and if that happens there are other more pressing things to deal with. Suffice to say, we have come too far to ever really go back.
I’m gonna delve into some figures here but settle down, I’m not your math professor (unless that’s your kink?) so don’t get all “SHOW. ME. RECEIPTS!” okay? Do your own fucking googling if you disagree.
I use gingers as an example not to make fun of them (for real, gingers to the front please) but to point out that of the world’s population, 1-2% are ginger. Whereas the current estimates of the global trans population are somewhere between 0.5-1% that we know of…
[Don’t make me go on some long-winded bit pretending to not be able to come up with any credible reasons for that number being soft. We all know it is because of the violence, the vilification and the constant requirement to justify our existence, so spare me the energy and think up your own comedy moment about why trans people hide from official head counts.]
Germany, with the highest figures at 3% demonstrates that this 0.5-1% figure is kinda bogus. Nations that have more relaxed social norms and progressive attitudes towards sex and sexuality are clearly going to have more openly trans people. Australia sits around the 2% mark apparently.
2% of Australians are trans or gender-diverse.
That’s 520,000 people.
That’s more than the number of people who live in Canberra.
That’s more than Mackay, Rockhampton, Bundaberg and Toowoomba combined.
For every ginger you have ever met you have met a trans or gender-diverse person. That’s how common we are.
But hey, I’m generous. Let’s say that number is inflated. Let’s say the 2% figure is just wishful-trans-thinking. Let’s say it is the 0.5-1% figure. This “global average” figure that includes the head counts of places in the world where being trans means execution… It’s still 132,200 – 265,000 people in Australia who are trans.
It’s more than the population of Darwin.
Imagine if a politician stood up and said, “We’re not going to change any laws or make any accommodations for the needs of people in Darwin because they are just too small a percentage of the Australian population.”
Yeah… “pretty toxic” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
There’s a price to pay for all this. Transgender folk have to pay for most of it and sadly we often pay in blood. But I will tell you one thing… I don’t feel the same fear anymore. Not because the country is getting better (it isn’t) but because something has galvanized in me. I don’t fear them now. I’m not befuddled when cis-men ask “what is a woman?” with their satisfied grin, thinking they have won the interaction before it’s even started. I know the answer is to tell him is that “A woman is someone who puts her hand over her drink whenever you’re around, mate.” Or one of a million other insulting ways to refuse to take the bait. I’m lucky. I’m blessed with physical strength, a smart mouth that’s ready to fire, and a knack for remembering all the sarcastic one-liner-clap-backs I read in the forums. Not everyone is as lucky as I am. I would never expect a fellow trans or non-binary person to step into the stream of hate coming at us to shield me, just because I can.
I get to choose what I do with this blessing.
I get choose the result of having witnessed their savage storms of overt hate. Of being bathed in the burning radiation of their vitriol. Of being starved of fairness to the brink of ruin.
Something else has grown out of it all.
This fertile ground of the “I’m just asking questions” rallies. All those insidious submissions to parliaments about the criminogenic nature of trans people and the ostensibly queer organizations that are actually shells for hate groups. That rich soil of misguided masked men throwing n*zi salutes and carrying a banner calling to “exterminate pedos” to an anti-trans rally.
Something grew. Something they didn’t expect: I now feel the knife’s edge under me and it isn’t making me weaker. It’s doing something else.
–S