Musings on my trans experience in 2025 – Natasha Stavropoulos
My experience of living life in London as an openly, relatively cis-passing trans woman of Greek origin has been varied in the past 15 years. After the initial shock of coming out (a rebirth of sorts) and the challenging yet highly euphoric moments of early transition, a period of normalising everything and simply navigating the world authentically as Natasha came about. Time passed, and when Brexit, Trump and a move towards the right simultaneously happened, the world shifted again. Fast-forward to the current global political and legislative climate, which impacts not only how I experience myself, but also how I perceive others and society in general.
I never quite understood the ‘biological’ (or rather bio-essentialist) argument that trans women are biological men. It sounds absurd to me, as much as it hurts me. Few people truly understand the trans experience, which as rare as it is, often comes with the challenges of having to transgress corporal limitations for the psyche to prevail. Reducing my gender transition to basic binary understandings of gender is not just inaccurate and wrong, it’s also deeply insulting. In my view appearance is biological, as are secondary sex characteristics, genitals, hormone levels, body hair, skin; transition is biological. I know and I feel biologically female, and I know many other trans women have the same experience as me. The problem is not that I’m not biologically or psychologically a woman – the problem is that I am not ‘seen’ as a woman by a part of society; the issue is sociological.
Gender critical people just don’t understand or simply don’t like people transitioning, for multiple reasons that I am not going to go into here. It’s just a matter of opinion, versus a matter of experience. It’s sad that in a world with strong fascist political flavours, opinions and theories can be imposed over personal human experiences. I never was afraid to go into a public bathroom, or use the female changing rooms of my local swimming pool. When the bathroom bills started getting introduced in the United States it all looked distant and far-fetched. Now that good-old segregation is knocking at our door in the UK, it has literally hit home. I’m in disbelief, along with the vast majority of my trans friends.
A mix of moral panic, political engineering/scapegoating and fanaticism seem to have managed to legitimise anti-trans sentiment. Discriminating against us can now be legally supported. Again, the reasons for this are multiple, yet the people bearing the brunt are trans people. My fear is that it will not stop with us; disabled people, people of colour, immigrants, LGBQIA+ people, women. It’s scary times for the traditionally oppressed. I’m personally really quite scared of what might come about if the tide doesn’t turn.
Empathy seems to be lacking for many, but luckily not for all. I am lucky to have received a lot of support from allies across the spectrum of gender and sexuality over the years – from the queerest to the most normative people standing up behind trans rights. We’ve seen the biggest trans pride in the world happen in London last year (55,000 people) with many cis allies marching with us. The fight for freedom and equality goes on, harder than ever. Every single person and their beliefs count.
Although I feel deeply affected by what is currently happening and my existence being openly debated as an idea or concept stripped away from its humanness, I also feel the warmth of empathy and understanding from people I know, as well as new people I meet every week. My fear has always been that the most affected are those with less privilege – racial, socio-economic, cis-passing, educational. I need to stand in solidarity with those affected by intersections more complex than my own. I need to help rally our allies to use their privilege to defend and protect those lacking it. I also need to be gentle with myself, and make sure that I self-care, check in with my support network, continue to nourish and nurture myself and those closest to me. The distance from the personal to the global is far shorter than most people think. Change is in me, as much as it is around me; and this gives me hope.
