The alarm goes off. I press stop and grab my phone. It’s 4 am. I remove my blanket and, with my eyes barely open, head to the bathroom. I’m blinded by the white overhead light. I am now awake. I grab a towel and drench it in hot water as I prepare my face for my morning routine. As the hot towel warms my face, I prepare my razor. I begin to shave. First with the grain. Then against the grain. I rinse. Double cleanse. Then moisturise. I make my way back to my room to pick out an outfit for the day. Every morning, I have the same thoughts. Do I look masculine in this? Are my shoulders too pronounced? Should I work from home? Eventually, I try to overcome the blaring dysphoria, and I move to apply my makeup. Hide the shadow. Conceal the blemishes and shape the face. I stop for a moment and look back at the reflection in the mirror. I take a deep breath and decide maybe I do look alright. With that, I leave my home and make my way to work. Another morning. Another routine done.

Waking up in the morning. Going to work. Going on a night out. Meeting friends for coffee. These are all regular things I do on a daily basis. However, for many trans people and me, they are met with hurtful and complicated thoughts. Dysphoria: the mental state of unease due to the clear mismatch between our ‘gender at birth’ and our real gender. Describing how dysphoria feels is not something I find easy. It is a personal and profound emotion that exists throughout my life and probably will until my final days. Does it get easier? Yes, it does. Does it still hurt? Yes, it does.

When you talk to a trans person about dysphoria, more often than not, they will have a particular event or thing that triggers these thoughts. For me, it is going to work. I have worked in multiple jobs, in two different countries, as myself over the past four years. But, for some reason, it never gets easier. I worry about what my colleagues may think or how I may be treated. I panic if I don’t look ‘feminine’ enough or act a certain way. When I use the restroom, I rush in, rush out and hope no one says anything or sees me. This is how my brain operates.

In reality, over the past several months, I have learned that these thoughts are unfounded and without any real basis. My colleagues respect me for me. I am not misgendered. I am not confronted. I am treated like every other woman there. These more positive experiences have begun a process of altering the way I think.

Now, it is important to stress that dysphoria is not logical. It is a horrible feeling of disgust, anxiety and sadness. It is, however, something I try very hard to overcome. It is the positive moments that help me to realise that these thoughts are indeed not based in reality. They are, instead, thoughts that I need to understand will pop up, but my reality and my experience trump whatever negative words or feelings that enter my head.

Four years after publicly coming out, I am still overcome with happiness when I am gendered correctly, called my name or complimented on my makeup or clothes. It is these moments that help alter the way I think about myself.

In my head, I know I am a girl, and I know that by transitioning, I saved my life. I know that my life is better every day I live as my authentic self. It is not the approval of others that quashes my dysphoria, but it is my own internal recognition that I am me that usurps my dysphoric thoughts. Sometimes, hearing my name said back to me is enough to change the course of my day for the better.

It is little things like this that are not talked about when the trans experience is discussed. Whether that be by trans people themselves or others. Dysphoria and the impact it has on trans people is often swept under the rug to avoid causing discomfort to others. Most people will never understand the realities of what it is like to live as a trans person. Most won’t know the second-guessing that takes place day in and day out or the internalised transphobia that takes years to dismantle.

Dysphoria is a challenge. It is a hurdle that trans people jump every day. Even with this, trans people don’t stop. We still come out. We still overcome the odds of survival. We still walk the streets, walk the office halls and live amongst our neighbours. We present as the truest version of ourselves and walk with our heads high as we do. Dysphoria is not something that controls us. It is a darkness that we shine a light on in order for ourselves to shine brighter every day.

That’s the message I sent my best friend on a cold December night in 2020. That text was a stepping stone in allowing myself to come out of my shell. For the first time, another human being other than myself was going to know my truth. I was no longer going to be alone. That night, I went to bed petrified of what was to come. Had I made a mistake? Am I strong enough to go through with this? These questions swirled around my head for hours as I attempted to get some sleep. As I started to drift off, I was left with one thought: this would be my final night of lying to myself.

The next morning, I woke up in a sort of daze. My chest felt like it was being crushed by an elephant. My mind was moving at a thousand miles an hour with questions, thoughts and worst-case scenarios. I grabbed my coat, put on my shoes, took a deep breath and left my house towards the bus. Was I scared? Absolutely. Did I know what was to come? Not at all. I sat in a daze, staring into the distance, thinking how this conversation, this moment, will be what kick starts the beginning of my life. The bus came to a sudden stop and opened its doors. I stepped off, and there she was. Waiting for me with an expression that was both of happiness and concern. I walked over, said hello, and immediately she said, ‘‘What’s up?’’

My voice caught in my throat. I couldn’t get the words out. I was terrified. All of a sudden, I said, ‘‘I’m trans… I’m… I’m a girl.’’ Her response was cool and collected. She said, ‘‘ok. Do you have a new name?’’ At this moment, the tears were ready to stream. But, after taking a deep breath, I said, ‘‘Its Caitlin.’’ Suddenly, my best friend jumped up with excitement. Filled with absolute joy, she explained how happy and proud she was. We talked for hours, going over all the changes I could no longer wait to make. It was then that the fear dripped away and was replaced by a clear sense of happiness. I went home that day and realised for the first time; I wasn’t alone.

To say I felt relief would be a gross understatement. For me, this was the start of my transition. A journey that was going to change my life forever. Days and weeks followed as I came out to more friends and slowly started telling family. Each time I told someone, I was ready to lose them. Not because they showed signs of bigotry or anything remotely transphobic. But, with a massive increase in transphobic rhetoric in the news, social media and in politics, I was convinced that everyone would turn away from me. In reality, those who genuinely cared for me have stood by my side, day in and day out.

Life after this changed, and it changed quick. Within a year, I was Caitlin at university and Caitlin at my job. However, there was one more thing I had to do before it was all final; I had to make the dreaded Facebook post that notified everyone else of this new me. A post on a social media platform that seemed like it may be better to just put an ad in a newspaper.

Coming out is not something that I, as a trans woman, took lightly. I knew the significance of telling people. The risks. The chance of rejection. Or even worse, blatant transphobia. With that, coming out to people one at a time is tiresome. You build yourself up, deal with hours of anxiety, tell the person, then come down. Each time this cycle repeats. Each time you hope you don’t have to do it again. The purpose of my post was to notify the rest of my friends, family and acquaintances that this change has happened and that from now on I am going to live my life authentically.

In my room at university, I sat around with my friends and drafted the post. ‘‘This is just a little update about me to my friends and family…’’ It’s important to note that there was nothing ‘little’ about what followed that sentence. As I finished writing, I read each word. Again. Again. And again. In the end, as my thumb nervously hovered over the post button, I took a breath and clicked ‘post’. I threw my phone onto my bed. I looked around at my friends and said, ‘it’s done’. My best friend hugged me and said, ‘‘I’m proud of you. You make me proud to be a woman’’. At that moment, I had a thought that if someone else is proud of me, why am I not proud of me?

The reality was that I was so caught up worrying about everyone else, I never stopped to think of how far I had come. In the span of a little more than a year, I went from crying alone in my bedroom to walking down the street as the girl I once dreamed about. I had accomplished what I once thought was impossible.

Today, four years later, I look back at these moments with a sense of relief. Little did that younger version of me know that coming out was the most positive thing she’d ever done. I now have confidence, joy and a desire to live. I go to work, walk down the street, and wake up as a woman. The girl who once tiptoed around the house, in dresses and wearing makeup, hoping no one would see, now leaves the house wearing dresses and makeup without a second thought.

Coming out unequivocally saved my life. If I didn’t take that first step and tell my friend, there is a world where I wouldn’t be here today. Reflecting on these moments is difficult. They are full of pain, hardship and anxiety. But I am glad I did it. I wouldn’t change my journey, my story, for the world.

Survive.

That is now the goal of the trans community.

Stay together. Work together. Survive.

Following the UK Supreme Courts ruling on the definition of a ‘women’ the trans community has become inundated with hatred both online and in-person. In fact even here on Substack, people have decided to use my comment section as a chance to express their transphobic views on my right to exist.

Before this ruling trans people were already fearful of their personal safety. Many trans woman, including myself, avoided going to the bathroom for hours for fear of being accosted. We kept our heads down while walking down the street to avoid the stares or disgusted looks. We sat in our rooms for hours crying about what could or what has already happened.

The reality is that over recent years abuse towards the trans community has risen significantly. The BBC revealed in 2023 that trans targeted hate crimes rose by 11% in a twelve month period in England and Wales. This is on the back of a Stonewall report stating that 2 in 5 trans people have experienced a hate crime with this number rising with trans woman of colour. Gallop also released figures that 43% of trans and non-binary people have experienced abuse from family members.

On a personal level, I have seen a rapid growth in verbal abuse from members of the public both at work and on the street. Yelling, intimidation, slurs.

I believe that the confidence given to strangers to accost trans people by-and-large trickles down from the upper echelons of our society; government, media, pulpit.

It is over the past few years that we have witnessed a shift from an almost universal liberal attitude towards LGBTQ+ people to a hateful and almost vengeful attitude. It was Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron in 2016 that pledged to ensure the UK was the, ‘‘best place in Europe if you are lesbian, gay, bisexual or trans.’’

In the less than ten years since these comments, Prime Ministers from both Conservative and Labour have followed the same script; deny a trans persons identity, use policy to remove them from spaces, call for compassion while constantly using dog whistles and refuse to meet trans people or activists.

It is actions like that of Secretary of State for Health; Wes Streeting, banning puberty blockers without consultation or banning trans woman from same-sex wards, that I believe gives fuel to those who are looking for a group to demonise and abuse.

The Wednesday ruling by the Supreme Court is just another log onto the fire of transphobic abuse. The difference is that this time is not rhetoric or policy. It is legal precedent that opens the door to banning trans woman from spaces, indirectly allowing discrimination and giving the go ahead for trans people to lose legal protections. Government agencies have already moved to freeze trans positive policies in recent days.

The media has not been immune from this shift. In fact, they have been an active participant. Right wing tabloids use dog whistles and ‘explosive’ taglines to describe the trans community, corporations like the BBC hide behind the guise of ‘impartiality’ when not allowing a trans person on their network without a ‘gender-critic’, and social media allows transphobic rhetoric to flourish.

Behind the pulpit, clerics have taken to expressing their opinion about trans rights. Some refusing to give trans people communion while other using the pulpit as a place to espouse hatred. In 2024 the Vatican released ‘Dignitas Infinita’ which broadly denounces so-called ‘gender theory’ and rejects gender transition in general.

The government, the media and the pulpit have turned against the trans community en masse and in a relatively short space of time.

These three factors, along with many others that will be discussed another time, have cumulated to create the perfect storm for transphobia to fester in the public realm. I have already heard people use one of the above three sources, sometimes more, as justifications for their anti-trans rhetoric.

All of this means one thing; violence against trans people will increase.

Trans people are under threat. Online. In the streets. At work.

We currently live in an era where our lives feel that they have been upended for no other reason than people don’t like who we are. We live in a world where we are on guard and almost prepared from some comment.

With this in mind, next time someone makes a transphobic remark don’t let them say ‘it was a joke’. Next time you see a trans woman struggling in the bathroom, glance a smile. Next time you see a trans person being accosted, step in. Your support and your help could be the reason why we live another day.

Today, trans people across the UK were left in a state of shock, confusion and worry as they heard the UK Supreme Court rule that a transgender woman is not a woman according to the 2010 Equality Act. This not so surprising ruling has now opened a door that many fear will lead to an increase in discrimination and create suffering for transgender people in areas that were once protected. As a young transgender woman I can’t help but worry about my future. I can’t help but feel alone. Today the courts have proven that they cannot be relied upon to safeguard a small but vulnerable minority in our society.

Throughout my transition, I always assumed that the 2004 Gender Recognition Act and the 2010 Equality Act were unimpeachable. I assumed my rights were secure under law. Today proved how wrong I was and that the trust I had in our legal system was based on naivety. The courts have joined a growing trend of decisions made by governments and politicians that are deeply rooted in transphobia. For trans people across the UK, the courts, parliament, and the government can no longer be trusted.

The pain and anger felt this morning as the ruling was broadcast is not something I am soon to forget nor is it something that won’t be felt again. In reality, I know that myself and my community will continue to face increased discrimination from the system which will always translate to an increase in abuse and threat of violence from hateful individuals in our society. It is this reality that shapes the way many of us choose to live our lives. From avoiding using a restroom, to not leaving our homes to thinking about not wanting to be here. This is the life we currently live. It is the ‘what if’ from today's ruling that has myself and many others terrified of the days, weeks and months ahead.

It is our anger and pain that also begs us to ask the question of ‘why’? Why are we victims of an organised campaign to declare us as ‘enemies’ of women? Why are we being attacked just for being the most authentic version of ourselves? In these questions I must wonder what people who identify as ‘cisgender’ must think about what this means for them. In recent months women who are cisgender but mightn’t fit the stereotypical look of a ‘woman’ have been targeted when in toilets, changing rooms and just walking around. The idea of what a woman is does not only affect the trans community, but instead is rooted in an unconscious bias of both misogyny and transphobia. When those in power are finished targeting me and my friends they will move onto another group to stigmatize and ostracize.

As I take a moment to examine the legal and political institutions that are meant to protect me, I can’t help but wonder what may come next. Today the National Healthcare Service has announced that it will take this ruling into account when writing its policy for same-sex wards. Others are calling for trans women to now be banned from toilets, changing rooms and refuge spaces. Yesterday, trans women could rely on the law to ensure that our basic right to use a toilet was protected. Today we are not so sure we have those protections.

Trans people now face an impossible question; When the institutions don’t protect you, who will? This question will not be answered today and may not be answered for quite some time. What I do know is that trans people have said for years that this would happen. Time and time again we have warned that the current political climate is moving us towards a trend of transphobia and exclusion. Many said this would never happen. Today, we learned that our calls of fear were indeed based in reality.

Trans people are rightly frightened and disillusioned with our systems institutions. It is vital that over the coming days we take time to process what has occurred. We have to sit with our friends and family to digest the new world we live in. Our anger and pain must be used to demand change. The campaign for equality does not end today. We will pick it back up tomorrow and when we do we need the support of our allies. This campaign for true and unending equality does not happen when we are alone. But, instead change occurs when we band together as a community and a society.

Throughout human history, minorities have been attacked by those in the ‘majority’ for political or personal gain. Whether this be the targeting of people of colour, the segregation of the Irish, the demonisation of Gay men or the malicious attacks on migrants. Time and time again, those in fragile positions of power select a group and begin a targeted campaign consisting of hate, misinformation and fear. When I was growing up through the 2010s, the selected group was migrants. Mainly those from Syria and the middle east escaping deadly conflicts. In recent years, however, populist politicians and right wing political parties have switched focus to the transgender community. A group that was already stigmatised, ostracised, and vilified. A group I happen to be a member of.

Growing up, I never would have thought that one day I would be a member of a community that was the target of an organised culture war by politicians, media pundits and clerics. My parents never thought that their child would be the target of verbal abuse on a daily basis and at risk of physical violence just for being themselves. The horror stories I was once taught in school about how gay men in the 1980s were treated, were now becoming my reality.

When I began publicly presenting as a woman, using she/her pronouns and using my new name, my life changed. It changed for the better. It gave me a real opportunity to be the most authentic version of myself. My transition allowed me to be happy for the first time in years and allowed me to gain confidence in myself. I could finally love me.

The quickly changing politically landscape in the United Kingdom, Europe and the Unites States of America was something I was not counting on. In the latest American Presidential election, the Republican party spent upwards of $100 million on anti-trans ads across the country. Their goal was to galvanise people against the trans community and paint Donald Trump as the only person able to deal with the ‘woke’ agenda supposedly being pushed on them. In the UK, the Conservative party and to an extent Labour, have shifted attention to the trans community and have begun targeting them in the media, through policy and on social media. The US once considered a beacon of freedom and the UK once considered an accepting country for LGBTQ+ people, have both turned their back on a minority in need of defending.

This is all to say that when I came out I had to change things about my life. My personal safety has become paramount. Not only as a woman but as a trans woman. My social media has been made private due to an increase in trolls and threats. I don’t use certain facilities due to fear of aggression by strangers and I don’t go to many countries as they don’t accept me.

In this new landscape I find myself in, I think back to the groups before us who were targeted. How growing up I was inspired by James Baldwin, Harvey Milk, and Malala Yousafzai. Their ability to stand up not only for their themselves but for their community is something that sticks at the front of my mind. Despite the hatred they stood up to those in power an demanded change.

It is with the legacy of those activists and champions of human rights that I have begun this website. Although not on the same level of the aforementioned, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak out about the challenges my community currently face.

I will be following political developments that impact trans people from the UK to Europe to America and combining that with my own interpretations and opinions. My lived experience as a young trans woman has a direct impact on my writing and how I chose to comment on particular issues. I will never hide my true opinion. I will aim to cut through the blur of laws or policy papers and present a clear picture of what is happening to the trans community.

Today, the trans community faces possible legal erasure in America, complete alienation in the UK and a roll back on rights across the world. Today more than ever we need your support.