Self-expression, biological sex, and the cost of shutting down conversation:
I believe in freedom of self-expression. Deeply. The more people feel free to express themselves fully, the more joy and creativity we’ll see in this world.
That’s why I want to say this clearly: acknowledging the difference between biological sex and gender doesn’t contradict the value of self-expression, it reinforces it.
Biological sex is real. It’s not a feeling or a vibe. There are two: male and female, determined by chromosomes (XX and XY). These biological markers give rise to different physical traits. Whether we like it or not, some of these traits make one sex more physically dominant, and that has real-world consequences, especially for safety.
Now, gender is something else entirely. It’s the set of roles and behaviours society has historically assigned to people based on their sex. But being a woman doesn’t mean liking pink or having long hair. And being a man doesn’t mean you can’t express softness, sensitivity, or creativity.
So when a boy realises he loves wearing pink, growing his hair, and dancing in glitter, why should we jump to the idea that he was “born in the wrong body”? He wasn’t. His biological sex doesn’t limit his ability to express himself. He can be fully himself as a boy. Expression should be free, not boxed into stereotypes that demand a new gender label every time someone steps outside them.
In the UK today, if someone wants to be referred to by a different gender, they can do so without needing medical or legal approval. That’s their right in a free society. If it makes people feel happier and more aligned with themselves, I don’t believe it’s anyone’s place to stop them. Live your life. Be who you are. No one should feel shame or rejection for that.
But here’s the line we need to draw: the law.
When legal rights, safety, and services start referring to gender instead of biological sex, we step into dangerous territory, especially for women. You cannot identify into a sex class that has been oppressed, violated, and silenced for centuries, and expect to instantly access the same protections, services, and safe spaces.
85 percent of women aged 18 to 24 in the UK report having experienced sexual harassment (ONS, 2021). This is not about feelings, it’s about structural vulnerability. Women, as a biological sex, are at greater risk. And biological sex-based spaces like refuges, hospital wards, and changing rooms exist to protect that vulnerable class. They matter for safety and for mental wellbeing.
To those who say “trans women aren’t a threat to women,” I ask: how do you make women feel safe? Telling women they’re irrational for feeling unsafe is just another way men have historically told women how to feel.
And to those pointing out that trans people are a small minority, around 0.5 to 0.75 percent of the UK population, I say this: women are more than half. Women’s rights are not a side note in the pursuit of inclusion.
I recognise that making clear distinctions between gender and biological sex might feel threatening to some trans people. That’s not my intention. But we need to be able to talk openly, respectfully, seriously. Right now, many women are afraid to speak for fear of being called bigots. That’s not progress. That’s suppression.
In the name of inclusion, we’re forgetting common sense.
So let’s talk. Let’s listen. Let’s stop shouting and start rebuilding clarity, because this isn’t about hate. It’s about boundaries, safety, and truth, and how we protect everyone without erasing women in the process.
