#being genderqueer but not calling myself trans made it even more difficult to express why some of his views struck me as wrong

[queerbreadcrumbs]

I wrote this letter to for when I eventually come out (:

To my loved ones,

I wrote this letter to explain something important to you, because I value our relationship and your support. I wanted to share with you that I don’t fully identify as the current gender I am recognized as. I’m non-binary. As such, from now on it’d be great if you could address me as “Rowan” rather than “*******” and use they/them pronouns for me. Obviously, I know that this will take some time to adjust to and I’m not expecting miracles, but genuine effort will mean the world!

I understand that this may be somewhat confusing, especially as you’ve all known me for quite some time. Over the course of this letter, I have included answers to the most common questions people have, as well as definitions and resources for further information. I’m also happy to answer any questions you may have regarding this insofar as they are respectful.

What does non binary mean?

-       Non- Binary or genderqueer individuals have a gender identity and/or expression that is neither man or woman. Some people are both, or are fluid in their gender identities or expressions and others are neither. In my case, it’s that I don’t identify particularly strongly with either gender. Most of the time I don’t feel like either a man or a woman, I just am.

Are you trans?

-       Well yes and no. Yes in the sense that I don’t agree with the gender assigned to me at birth, no in the sense that I have no desire to transition to male.

Do I have to do anything?

-       Not really! As I mentioned earlier, my name is now Rowan, and my pronouns are now they/them. So instead of saying something like “I like ******, she bakes really good cakes” or “****** left her coat here!” you’d instead say “I like Rowan, they bake really good cakes.” Or “Rowan left their coat here!” The only thing you really have to do is make a conscious effort not to use my old name and pronouns.

What are pronouns and why do you want new ones?

-       Pronouns are a group of words we use as short versions for nouns. The most common ones in the English language are she/her/ (feminine) and he/him (masculine). The singular form of these that isn’t gendered is usually thought to be “it/it’s” and personally I find this much more jarring in a sentence than they/them. Firstly, because it’s dehumanising. We tend to use the pronoun “it” when describing an inanimate object. “Look at that potato, it’s got eyes growing on it!” Whereas when describing a group of people, or someone whose gender you don’t know, the grammatically correct pronouns to give would be they/them. I don’t really know my gender, so I don’t expect you to figure it out through a complex use of English syntax. They/them, like you would use with any other unknown is fine.

-       This is something I want to change because people using she/her in reference to me makes me quite uncomfortable. When I am referred to as female it kind of feels like I’m an imposter or deceiving people in some way, like you’re seeing something that’s not there and that you’ll be cross when you find out I’ve been lying to you. I’d like to change my pronouns as I want to be honest with you all about who I am.

Why “Rowan”?

-       Rowan is a Gaelic name which comes from the Rowan tree. (Like the name Willow is after the Willow tree) In Scottish Gaelic it means “little redhead” and has always been a unisex name, although usually these days we see it more for boys than girls. I imagine most of you would immediately think of Rowan Atkinson. (Mr Bean, Blackadder)

-       I chose Rowan for a few reasons. Firstly because of its Gaelic origin and my desire to keep some connection to my Celtic roots. Secondly it sounds similar to ******* and has the same number of syllables which should help you when remembering to use it! Thirdly as those of you related to me directly will know, when those of us assigned female at birth (AFAB) reach a certain age our hair reddens before turning grey. As my hair has already started to pick this up, I thought a name meaning “redhead” was appropriate.

-       I wanted to change this because my given name is quite feminine and much like being referred to as she/her, being called ‘*******’ makes me feel very uncomfortable. You’d think being called it for 24 years would be enough to get used to it, but apparently not!

Why change this now?

-       I’ll admit that this all may be quite shocking or confusing to some of you. Please know that I have given this no small amount of thought. Accepting myself as I am has been a long and arduous process for me, so I understand if it feels like a lot for my loved ones too.

-       Looking back, it feels like I’ve had a difficult relationship with gender. As some of you will remember I was always a bit of a tomboy growing up. It took a long time for me to be comfortable wearing dresses.

-       As a teenager though, I began to face increasing pressure to be feminine, and was often called a lesbian for the way I chose to present myself. I had short hair and wore many a check shirt with doc martens. I loved it! Although, I did notice on the occasion I didn’t do this and presented in a more feminine way I was praised for this. People told me I looked nicer; people treated me better. The teasing stopped and I lived with less harassment which felt nice. Unfortunately, though I interpreted this feeling nice as enjoying being perceived as female.

-       I was still quite uncomfortable and some of my friends and loved ones picked up on this. However, I didn’t think it too important to question.

-       BUT NOT FOR LONG! Lockdown had a profound effect on me coming to terms with my gender. Because I wasn’t going anywhere, I no longer had to perform femininity. I just wore what felt good. I cut my hair really short and liked it! I was very comfortable with being at home, both physically and mentally.

-       However, when lockdown ended, I got a new job. I had to start performing again and the long hiatus made me realise just how uncomfortable I actually am being seen as a woman. The kids at school call me “miss.” I get called ****** constantly as people are trying to get my attention in the conventional way rather than just throwing things at me or just touching me like Tom does. Honestly, I hate it and it’s profoundly exhausting, which is why I’ve decided I want to live as Rowan.

-       Another thing that put all of this into sharp perspective for me was getting engaged. Don’t misunderstand, I love Tom more than anything in the world, and I still want very much to get married to him and for us to spend the rest of our lives together. I’m still very excited about our wedding! However, the language used to talk about weddings and engagements and the expectations surrounding them are very gendered! Words like ‘bride’ or ‘wife’ feel very strange and foreign when applied to me. As mentioned earlier though I don’t want to be a husband or groom either. I’m not sure there are alternatives for these words. I quite like how romantic “betrothed” sounds but I also don’t want to sound like I’ve just walked out of 1655.

-       Trying on wedding dresses was another huge hurdle for me. Part of it was my self-esteem issues and lack of confidence but everything I tried on made me feel like a fake, a failure. It being during times of COVID, I wasn’t permitted to take anyone with me to my fitting appointments. As such, I had these strange, unfamiliar saleswomen telling me I’d make a stunning bride and all such other nonsense while I felt just…wrong. At the time, I remember discussing it with my friends after sending them some pictures of me wearing wedding dresses. The words I used were “I felt like an imposter.” This is not just because I’m not used to wearing anything fancy. It’s because I’m not a woman. The clothes you wear on your wedding day are meant to make you feel fantastic, and I didn’t feel even comfortable in any of them, let alone fantastic. I have since purchased a dress to wear on my wedding day. It is simple, and I will style it to make myself as happy as I can be. I will still look like a “bride”. I’m just going to try to be as comfy as I can, reminding myself that clothes have no gender.  

What about clothes?

-       Typically, clothes are gendered. You walk into a shop and they usually have a men’s range and a women’s range. Because I am neither, I shop in both ranges!

-       I do also own a fair few dresses and skirts. This won’t change. Clothes have no gender. Traditionally yes, women wear dresses and skirts. But plenty of people who identify as men wear them and find them comfortable. Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, Harry Styles, Jayden Smith. These are all men, and yet they have all rocked skirts at one point or another. My wearing a dress or a skirt doesn’t make me any less non-binary as much as it didn’t make these guys any less of a man.

-       Furthermore, it wasn’t that long ago that trousers were deemed too masculine for women. However most modern women wear trousers, a lot of the time. Some of you are probably wearing trousers right now. Trousers have only recently begun to be considered neutral in our culture. Of course, it depends massively these days on the cut and the fit of them, but trousers can absolutely be masculine or feminine, just like me. I truly believe that one day skirts and dresses will become this neutral. They have been for a long time in Scotland.

-       In my mind this also explains why my personal preference for clothing has always been baggy and loose fitting.

Gendered terminology

-       As I mentioned previously when I talked about weddings, a lot of family language is heavily gendered. Son/Daughter, Husband/Wife, Niece/Nephew, Mum/Dad, Auntie/Uncle, Brother/Sister ect. Some of these words have gender neutral equivalents, and others don’t really. Where there is a gender-neutral equivalent, I would prefer it. Where there isn’t, I’m okay to be referred to as the female variant. For example, I’m fine being “Auntie Rowan”, “Dawn’s daughter[1]” or “Tom’s wife.[2]” But, I’d rather be Winnie’s parent than her mum, my Auntie’s nibling than her niece and Leanne’s sibling than her sister. If this sounds a little odd in conversation, and I’m sure it will do at first, you can say things like “My daughter uses they/them pronouns.”

So, are you “out, out”?

-       This letter is the start of my “social” transition. This is the part where the trans or non-binary person begins to live as themselves. As my close friends and family, I have chosen to share this with you first. As I live authentically, I want you to hear it from me, and have it explained by me rather than just stumbling across the fact I’ve changed my name on social media.

-       However, I’m not fully out yet. I’ve not yet informed anyone I work with or anyone in an official capacity, such as my doctor and I’m not using my new name legally just yet.

-       Please be mindful when discussing this with others that they may not be accepting. What matters is that you accept me. If you think telling a specific person might put me at risk, then don’t tell them.

-       If you want to discuss this with extended family that’s fine! 

More information

-       If you have questions that I haven’t answered here let me know and I’ll do my best to answer.

-       If you don’t feel comfortable asking me or just want more information on non-binary identities: - https://lgbt.foundation/who-we-help/trans-people/non-binary - https://gender.wikia.org/wiki/Non-binary - “A Field Guide to gender-neutral language” Shelley Roth (50p on apple books, or I could smuggle you a copy!)

In conclusion, I hope that you’re able to understand and support me in my coming out and coming to terms with my nonbinary identity, and that this doesn’t ruin, but strengthen our relationship. This has been very hard for me to share, but I’m ready to be my authentic self.  If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.

Yours,

*********

[1] Technically yes, Son/Daughter do have the gender-neutral variant of child, but It’d be kind of weird to call a 24 year old a child, so please don’t.

[2] I hate the word “spouse” it just sounds like “spout” and I’d rather be someone’s wife than someone’s spout any day.

[promiseimnotacop]

let's go about this a different way: pick your fave ten questions from the trans journey ask game and answer them!

bold of you to assume I’ve ever managed to make a decision in my life. also warning this gonna be looooooong

from this ask game

1. How did you choose your name? 

so I’ve always been interested in names and a couple years before i ever came out to anyone I asked my mum casually if there were any other names she’d considered giving me. She said that Finn or Finnbar were up there had I “”been born a boy”” and so I latched on to that. It worked pretty well for me because I wanted something that felt like an equivalent exchange for my birthname and that I didn’t associate strongly with a particular individual and I’d never had a Finn in my year at school so that was all hunky dory. Took me a while longer to figure out middle names (because my birthname has two middle names and it’s sort of a tradition on my dad’s side so I wanted to have those). 

There was a hot minute when I considered calling myself “Hugo Finn” which I’m so glad I didn’t, not that it is objectively a bad name, but because my reasoning was erm....bad. It was at a time when I had a lot of internalised self hatred/disgust and the name Hugo I first came across and associated heavily with the morally ambiguous “freak” from ASOUE. At the time I thought using a name I associated so heavily with the word freak was a way of subverting negative feelings but tbh it wasn’t. I’m so glad I didn’t tether myself that negativity. 

Also fun fact, my birthname is Shakespearean protagonist who spends most of the play dressed as a boy so again for a hot second I considered using the name she does, Fidele, but I wasn’t about having a super conspicuously uncommon name. 

For middle names in the end I went for James Lee (though nothing is legal or set in stone feedback and opinions are welcome lol). Lee came first, after the river in my village that I have a lot of postive memories associated with, outside of all the gender bullshit. The problem then became that the name “Finn Lee” would sound like/get mistaken for “Finley” and “Finnbar Lee” would sound like “Finn Barley” which would be eccentric and confusing. So it needed a buffer. In the end I went for James, partly because the first middle name of my given name is a saint, but mostly because James can be Jim and that allows for some of my childhood nicknames (im jim jam, imbo jimbo) to sort of still apply. that was a long answer to a short question lol but I spent a lot of time thinking about this because for some reason I felt  like I couldn’t come out until I’d already settled on a full name. 

3. Do you have more physical dysphoria or more social dysphoria?

I don’t think they’re separable. I have dysphoria about my body but it is because of societal perceptions of my body

8. How would you explain your gender identity to others?

depends on how savvy that person is to trans jargon honestly. The best, if clunky, label I’ve found for my gender is “transmasculine non-binary” which is two different quite broad umbrella terms lol. I like the looseness of it. For me personally, it means that the framework of masculinity and maleness is not an exact fit and does not cover some of the complexities of my gender but, in my daily interactions it is a close enough approximation and I do desire to pursue parts of what might be considered a “trans masculine” medical transition. For the most part masculine coded language (including he/him pronouns) is what suits me the best, with only a few particular exceptions. So, for most of the world I am functionally “a man” (even though that is one of the few bits of masculine coded language I don’t gel with), or maybe “a gender non-conforming man” and I am not gonna split hairs about that if we aren’t close. 

But if we’re seriously getting into a chat about gender there’s a lot more to be said. If drawing a diagram of my gender I would say I’m about 55% male, 30% “other”/third gender/maverique/genderqueer/whatever you want to call a gender identity autonomous and seperate from male or female, and 15% nothing/void. And all of that is subject to fluctuate a bit and which parts I might connect with most can be slightly contextual. I am more “a man” than anything else but also pretending to be a binary man is cutting out a significant part. 

12. Do you pass?

Let’s unpack the most Problematique question lol. Just kidding. It is important to acknowledge how “passing” or not effects daily safety/experiences but....god can we not use that word? Can that not be the agreed upon term? The implication that you are otherwise “failing”? The way in which it is incredibly difficult to apply to no-binary people? The way it does not acknowledge the nuances and the way that being read as a certain gender can be conditional? 

I prefer to use the terms “read as” because it allows for more nuanced discussion, does not have moralistic implications, puts the onus on the people viewing - not the individual being viewed and is kinda intuitive to understand.

To answer the question though? For the most part (like maybe 80% of the time) I am read as male. By no means always, and it is conditional on me following a certain level of gender conformity, but for the most part I interact with the world being addressed as a guy. As someone who is very much pre-t it seems that this alone subverts the standard “trans narrative”. Hell I was mostly read as male for a while before I ever came out. I’ve been corrected and laughed at in the women’s bathrooms. I’ve been harassed for gender nonconformity not in spite of but because I was wearing “girl’s” uniform. I have had fellow trans people assume I was a cis man (on more than one occasion) even when I introduced myself by my very much feminine birthname. I have little kids point blank refuse to believe I am “a girl”. I have had strangers confront and correct my mum for addressing me with she/her pronouns (before I was out). I have had kids yell the T slur at me (before I had begun to learn the invisible rules - which to be totally clear are bullshit -that need to be followed in order to be more consistently and unerringly read as male). I’ve been read as male occasionally in contexts where it was impossible for me to be out (near strangers on holiday whilst using birthname, new teachers and students at a school i’d been at since I was 11 and worn “girl’s uniform” until 16, etc).

It’s by no means always though. Which makes the times I don’t difficult and awkward. The technician on my course refers to me with feminine language but none of my tutors. The other day I tried out wearing eye shadow to class and I guy I bumped into later said that he hadn’t recognised me because it made me look like a girl (cringe). etc.

17. What do you do when you have to go to the bathroom in public?

haha i don’t go. I literally haven’t been to the men’s bathroom (apart from once on holiday) but also i get harassed in the women’s/get directed towards the men’s so.....here’s to hoping I don’t get a UTI lads. Literally been in a public loos once since June (not including holiday abroad) and then i nipped into the disabled one during shark week. 

19. Would you ever go stealth, and if you are stealth, why do you choose to be stealth?

so at the beginning of uni I sort of tried to go stealth to see if I could/if it was comfortable (and by go stealth I mostly mean I just didn’t openly talk about my trans-ness for a while). I didn’t wanna be known as ‘the trans one’ and so i didn’t want to introduce myself with that fact. It fucking sucked would not recommend 0/10. It’s incredibly lonely-making to try and filter your experiences and to not be able to discuss certain issues with anyone irl. 

32. How do you see yourself identifying and presenting in 5 years?

I used to do this thing when I was feeling particularly dysphoric/hopeless where I would draw myself now, and myself in 5 years time. Help construct something to look forward to, and work out what I would sincerely like to wear/express but don’t due to dysphoria. For me I really want to get to a place where I am comfortable in androgyny. I want to grow my hair out without sacrificing being read as male. I want to wear long skirts and crop tops whilst still being read and understood as a guy. I’ve done a lot of self reflection and I don’t think I can get to the place of being comfortable until I have had top surgery and I might also require T (though top surgery is really the necessity for my day to day life). Fingers crossed that will be possible and slightly healed within 5 years but given the NHS it really is not certain. 

39. Is your ideal partner also trans, or do you not have a preference?

T4T is self care. Jk. Honestly probably but that’s not to say a cis person couldn’t be my ideal partner? like at any rate it’s fucking necessary that my partner fully understands/perceives me to not be a woman. They could just be cis and no. 1 ally but in all likeliness they’re probably gonna be trans (particularly given the number trans and/or nb cuties out there)

40. How did/do you manage waiting to transition?

I’m not managing. Send help.

seriously every week I have a break down about how long NHS wait times are.

42. Do you interact with other trans people IRL?

I’m an art student in Brighton. Yes. 

(Also my sibling Sumner is an NB lesbian, and my childhood best friend Hunter is NB). 

Literally going to be one cis person in my house of six next year. 

[freedom-of-fanfic]

hey um just a request, but you seem to use dfab and dmab often in weird contexts when you could just say women and men. e.g.: "any mlm that is shipped by more dfab people than dmab people." as a nonbinary trans person, a sex assigned at birth is not relevant most of the time, so could you maybe use it less when it isn't necessary?

thanks for letting me know your thoughts, anon. I’m pretty sure that particular example comes from the ‘my objections to anti-shipping’ post, which is pretty old now (though I reblogged it from myself today). I remember re-reading that recently and thinking ‘ah, I don’t think this is the best use of these phrases’ but I forgot to edit the original post anyway (classic adhd move, tbh). But still, it’s not the only example of me using descriptors that are kinda ‘eh’. 

I’m sorry that my word choice here was inappropriate and may have made you feel uncomfortable.

my use of descriptors like afab, amab, intersex*, genderqueer, cis, nb, trans, male, female, woman, man, etc is constantly evolving as I try to be precise but also inclusive when I talk about experiences that are affected by gender (which, let’s be real, is a huge number of experiences).

under the cut I’ll go into more detail about why I think picking the right combination of gender descriptors is both really important to me and also difficult to get right without causing anyone harm.

(built in tw: descriptions of transphobia/transmisogyny and mentions of the harm it causes.)

because my blog deals almost entirely in fandom experiences and how they are influenced by negative outside factors, I believe it’s very important to address both personal gender identity and how gender identity is perceived/treated by others (especially bigots/ignorant people) both currently and over the course of their lives. but that gets very complicated, very fast.

For example, every gender experience will be different from one another even if they share aspects of their gender identity:

- even though all cis and trans women are women, cis women and trans women will have very different experiences of womanhood. 

- to dissect this down even further, a trans person who realizes they are trans very early in life and is able to live as their true gender will have a different gender experience from a trans person who doesn’t realize they are trans until later in life, or who realizes they are trans early in life but is forcibly misgendered by people around them, or a person who changes from a non-transgender identity to a transgender identity as an adult, etc etc.

Relatedly, a person’s life experiences are also deeply affected by what gender other people assign them regardless of their consent:

 - If someone of any gender is raised under the assumption they are a particular gender because of their agab, they will share certain experiences with other people who are assigned the same gender at birth. otoh, how it affects them will depend in part on what their actual gender is, or if their gender identity changes down the line.

- obviously, non-cis people have to contend with a variety of nastiness that cis people don’t have to deal with. I won’t go into detail b/c nobody needs that grossness, but suffice to say: TERFs, right-wing activist groups like FRC, and transphobes in general make non-cis lives particularly difficult, up to and including getting non-cis people killed. in particular transgender people (but this also affects other non-cis identities).

- other forms of misgendering also cause harm, whether deliberate or not. from outright bigotry to people who think there are only two genders out of ignorance to people who use misgendering as a weapon to accidental assumptions of the wrong gender, it’s shit, and everyone will have a different experience with these issues based on a shitton of variables.

- and if all of the above wasn’t enough, gender experiences are heavily influenced by cultural background, the political climate, racism, sexual orientation, and on and on and on.

(and regarding my * on intersex above the cut: i am not intersex, and while I have read/heard a variety of experiences from personal anecdotal accounts by intersex people I generally try to avoid commenting on it from lack of knowledge (particularly because some intersex people have expressed they do not view ‘intersex’ as a gender descriptor but rather as a medical state.))

These are all things I try to bear in mind when making a post on tumblr that references gender. here’s an example of the kind of internal debates that come up:

the Japanese word ‘fujoshi’ is gendered, referring specifically to women who enjoy/create BL & queer-eye fictional m/m relationships. It carries this gendered connotation both when referring to a particular fan experience* and when it’s used as an insult in English-speaking fandom. What gender descriptors do I use to refer to people who are affected by this?

(*in this case I’m referring to using ‘fujoshi’ to describe a specific fan experience in English-speaking fandom/primarily US experience. By virtue of being a different culture than Japan, the experience described by ‘fujoshi’ will necessarily be different.)

as a fan experience, I’d say ‘fujoshi’ can encompass the experiences of women and/or afab people (particularly afab people who were raised under the assumption they were a woman whether or not this was true) who choose to describe themselves as fujoshi.

women: encompassing trans and cis women. (trans women may or may not share the experience of being recognized as a woman/identifying as a woman while being raised, but they are still just as affected all their lives by messages aimed at women.)

and/or afab people, particularly if they were raised under the assumption of being a female whether they were or not: afab people who are raised as women are also affected all their lives by messages aimed at women, though that experience is likely quite different from gender identity to gender identity.

who choose to describe themselves as fujoshi: a person who was raised under the assumption they are a woman may share certain experiences with other afab people, but even if they experienced the same messages/similar experiences as other afab people who chose to identify as ‘fujoshi’, that doesn’t mean they fall under the descriptor of ‘fujoshi’. I’m particularly thinking of trans men and nb people here - unless any one individual says differently about themselves, I think calling a trans man or person off the gender binary a ‘fujoshi’ would be misgendering them - but there may be many examples of people who don’t relate to the gendered aspect of ‘fujoshi’ for many reasons.

as an insult, I’d say ‘fujoshi’ is almost always a mess of gender essentialism and misgendering. It refers to those that are perceived as women by the person slinging the insult. ‘Perceived women’ often include cis women and/or afab people of any gender, frequently including trans men, and occasionally encompasses trans women who the insulter sees as ‘passing’ as a cis woman.

perceived women: people that the insulter and/or ignorant portions of society would categorize as a woman without the person’s consent and regardless of accuracy.

cis women and/or afab people of any gender: a gender essentialist views gender as being synonymous with genitals (intersex people frequently either being categorized by the insulter separately or by whatever HRT/surgery was chosen for them). (in practice radfem ideology has the same effect, but they argue that gender doesn’t exist at all (only biological sex does).)

frequently including trans men: depending on how far the insulter is willing to go with their misgendering & often influenced by whether or not the insulter perceives a trans man as ‘passing’ as a cis man. (this may be affected by whether or not a trans man has undergone HRT/surgery depending on the opinion of the insulter.)

occasionally encompasses trans women who the insulter sees as ‘passing’ as a cis woman: because if they ‘pass’ they may be perceived as a ‘real woman’ (ugh ugh ugh). (this may also be affected by HRT/surgery depending on the opinion of the insulter.)

and now that I’ve settled on these descriptions, how do I condense them to something easy to read without distracting from the points I’m trying to make?

as an experience: “women and/or afab people”, maybe? perhaps “women and/or some afab people”?as an insult: “perceived women”, maybe?

(and I’m happy to take constructive criticism on this. I’d prefer it be sent not on anon so we can privately discuss it rather than doing it in posts on this blog (and if you don’t want to discuss your thoughts, just want to share and go, feel free to let me know - I won’t demand your time.))

in short: I think about a lot of stuff every time I pick gender descriptors on this blog. This doesn’t mean I always make the right choices - far from it - and there may not even be a truly ‘right’ choice. But I’m always seeking to be as inclusive and honest as I can be.

(PS: I don’t talk about my gender status here much other than to say ‘i’m afab’ because while I don’t presently identify as cis, I’m murky on it myself still & I don’t want my gender identity to affect whether or not ppl speak up about their opinions about my use of gender descriptors.)

[engl699readingjournal-blog]

Mateja was from Nürnberg and had been scouted as a model in her mid-teens. Like most slim male models with androgynous faces and slender figures, her entire career had been from the very beginning sculpted by her agency as informed by the archetypes she could already be placed into, prefabricated and predestined, as laid out for her as the clothing items themselves. She had done H&M campaigns in effete floral blouses, clad in bell-bottom pants and donning Quentin-Crisp-esque scarves and broad-brimmed hats, round sunglasses, ethereal photoshoots standing in meadows, wreathed in lavender. Tresses intertwined with leaves and open shirts slipping off of pale bony shoulders, a glamorous pastoral in which a certain suspended belief in the existence of masculinity was engineered by an industry presently dominated by Andreja Pejić pre-transition. At the height of Mateja’s career, the industry had only just realized that androgyny was lucrative, apparently, because even before I had met her I knew her. Pictures of her crossed my Tumblr dashboard from time to time. She blended in with the other thousands of models being styled exactly as she was, but she was there nonetheless, a part of this bizarre vision someone was curating, the ultra-wispy waifish male model clothed in these strange Little Lord Fauntleroy outfits as if he had himself been dressed by some Victorian nanny, given dissolute-1920s-schoolboy floppy haircuts. At one point I felt like a day couldn’t pass by without me seeing someone reblog a picture of one of these models in a sheer button down that showcased his ribs and collarbones, one blue eye peeking at the camera because the other was covered by the hair flop, a boater hat perched on top of that, cultivating the kind of gossamer construct Thomas Mann might have chased through Venice in a 1913 fantasy. Spindly hands, hollow cheeks, emphasized undereye circles that reiterated the eternal toxic marriage between the anemic image and the marketable queer one. The only way to be androgynous: rail thin, white as Christmas in Finland, consumptive. Models were scouted, packaged this way, then disposed of once they had aged out of the fey aesthetic. Something about seeing them years later on Instagram, sloppy, weird, greasy, chainsmoking, partying, was satisfying, the shedding of the artificial skin and the assumption of the unmarketable identity, the inundation of the Instagram account with memes instead of photoshoot outtakes, the gaining of weight and the growing of patchy beards, the eschewing of the sheer blouse in favor of kitschy t-shirts with stock photos of European-Union-themed nail art silkscreened across the front. High-waters paired with dirty running shoes. If Thomas Mann had seen them all now he may never have written Der Tod in Venedig. This is what his Tadzio would become? A smelly Prenzlauer Berg hipster in Dahmer glasses? Good.

Mateja was of a slightly different variety of industry pariahs, though. Once she left her representing agency, she grew her hair out, started wearing PVC skirts over black leotards, changed her name, started her own modeling agency for trans, genderqueer, nonbinary, and otherwise non-cisgender people. That was how we met. “The agency is called Das Modell,” she said as we sat at Südblock, casually inhaling an entire Flammkuchen while we talked about her work. “With two L’s. You know, like a concept, a theory, not like a person. And das, because it’s neutrisch. So is das Model, but the meanings are not quite the same.” I thought about the song by Kraftwerk and its rudimentary lyrics – “she is a model and she’s looking good / I’d like to take her home, that’s understood” – and how I had seen the German title of that song spelled both ways, with and without the extra L at the end. Of course, obsessed with all things robotic and scientific as they were, it would have made sense if the same wordplay had been intended there. “I just got sick of many things in this mainstream fashion industry,” she went on. “I left this agency because I told them I was not a male and they didn’t know what to do about that. They wanted to make me like Andreja, but I wasn’t like her. She knew she was a woman for many years, you know. She just didn’t come out because she knew she could make more money as a male model who looked like a woman than she could doing the same thing but identifying as a woman. Her whole career was relying on this one difference. I told them I was not this. They had no use for me. So I started my own agency.”

We had done a few photoshoots, all of which involved me in all black with my silver-blond hair, gaunt face, and crooked left ear front-and-center. I was not shaping up to be a Tadzio. I was 5’6”, my personal brand of androgyny was more evocative of clear and present illness than of foppish wastrel, my head was the size of a jovian planet, I had tattoos that I didn’t feel like showing, I wore drapey clothing that managed to convey the suggestion that I had a body somewhere without actually having to show it. My hair, which had held the same side-part for my entire life, would not do anything except lay exactly the way it wanted to. Mateja had been putting me in all-black turtlenecks for our shoots because they apparently emphasized my jawline. I hated turtlenecks enthusiastically, but I liked Mateja, so I endured. By the time we were halfway through one of our photoshoots, a roll of film in an empty room at the Neue Schule für Fotografie, filled with cracked mirrors that refracted the late-afternoon sunlight across the distinctly DDR parquet flooring, I was ready to shave my hair off and go around for the next months wearing a scarf-wig, Little Edie in Grey Gardens style, clad in a monk’s robe. I had seen myself standing in every unflattering angle I could possibly achieve in every cracked mirror that shot beams of Minority Report lighting across my face and washed out my nose. I sat on a dinosaur of a desk that had been pushed to the wall while Mateja changed a film roll, squinting out at the sunset over a particularly dingy part of Mitte. I had shown up to the photoshoot with only the clothes I was wearing, an attempt to avoid the bringing-up of a tight black turtleneck. The shirt I had chosen had a band collar and was loose. She did not express disapproval of it, but it was most likely not what she would have chosen, either.

“I think what we concentrate on the most is your face and your hands,” Mateja said. She began to take photos of me as I sat on the desk. “These are your best features.” My hands? They were German Expressionist monstrosities disproportionate to the rest of my body, but I did like them. My face, though? At times I was at peace with it, at other times I wanted to take my fingernails and gore it into unrecognizability. I had strong bone structure because I was sick, not because I was effortlessly beautiful like the Tadzios. None of this would have been interesting to Mateja, who simply commented on how good I was at sitting still and catching the best light with the slightest inclinations of my head. I was just trying to hide that damn ear.

Later that summer, Mateja asked me if I was interested in doing a group photo series for a fashion publication called Achtung, shot by a Köln-based photographer named Eva, centered around Mateja’s fashion endeavor and showcasing some of the agency’s talent. As it happened, the photoshoot was to be the day Sam and I left Berlin for our overnight through-the-whole-Czech-Republic odyssey to Vienna. “Eva says she wants to do some shots of us individually, then as groups, just in the apartment, then at night to go out and photograph us at some bars,” Mateja said. “I explained to her and the magazine what we expected of pronouns, proper language, things like this. They told us to bring several pieces of clothing that we feel the most comfortable in, our favorite things to wear.” I agreed to the daytime photoshoot, noting that I would not make the evening half of the project because I had a bus to catch with a friend.

It was July and a massive heat-wave was preparing to seize all of Germany by the throat and hold it fast all the way until the end of August. It was already smoldering in Bavaria and Austria, but had not yet crept up to Berlin. I could still comfortably spend a day outdoors in black shitkicker Docs, heavy black knee-socks, black schoolboy shorts, a white collared button-down, a crust punk neckerchief, and a black blazer with the lapels covered in buttons and brooches, inspired by Rik Mayall’s moody anarchist character from The Young Ones. In Berlin nobody looks twice if you wear the same outfit for a month. It felt only right that this should be the ensemble I brought along.

I think I was the most difficult to style. In attendance were Mateja, a young transwoman from München named Kim, Mateja’s genderqueer roommate whose name I don’t remember, a model and fashion designer named Leni with a look and backstory very similar to Mateja’s, and myself. The two stylists from the magazine looked at what I was wearing, evaluated my face, and made an executive decision: turtlenecks. Put him in turtlenecks. I wanted to scream. My foray into modeling was shaping up to be one backless infinite wardrobe filled with Hermès turtlenecks. “These make your face look incredible,” said the stylists to me in German. “Much more masculine jawline.” I didn’t want a masculine jawline. “Was für ein Gesicht,” Eva said as she snapped photos.

Exactly none of the clothes I was put into were clothes I would wear in any setting ever. Giant 1970s flared pants with platform-heel boots and turtlenecks, awful leather pants and Gucci jean jackets and turtlenecks, everything shot from the front to avoid acknowledging that Sam and I had cut my hair the night before with what could have been a chainsaw and a cheese knife, the crooked ear front-and-center again. I wanted to demand to know why my own clothes didn’t suffice. No, it wasn’t sleek, but neither was punk, neither was queer. I thought about the crust punks who hung out around Warschauer Straße with their dogs and their witty cardboard signs, about the squatters who tromped around Kreuzberg in their boots and bandannas. Did the people from this magazine know nothing about this?

After the main shoot began wrapping up, I got back into my clothes while Mateja and everyone else suited up for their night out, choosing other clothes to bring along for wardrobe changes. Mateja’s first outfit was a slim-cut suit with no shirt underneath, and Leni put on a matching ensemble. Together they put on music and danced while Eva snapped photos, them waiting for it to get dark enough for phase two, me waiting for the right time to leave. They moved like cats, tossing their hair about and embracing each other. I stood to the side, watching and holding my backpack which held enough CLIF bars to last Sam and I through our entire Austrian trek in the coming 36 hours. At some point Eva noticed me, my buttons, my boots, and called me over to snap a picture of me, just standing there, still holding my backpack, in front of this wall, dance music still blaring. Somewhere out there that picture exists. Months later, when Mateja met up with me to give me a hard copy of the magazine, she sighed and simply said, “I don’t know if I’m happy with this series. Eva did very well shooting us, but I think the magazine missed the point.”

[infiniteglitterfall]

I was wondering if you had any queer and/or social justice books you could recommend? (Also completely different topic but what does "Don't be a dick, Alan" mean? Is it a quote or reference or something?)

excellent question! it is an in-joke with myself. someone was being a passive-aggressive racist douchebag on Nextdoor, and I replied with “Don’t be a dick, Alan.” which i think we all know is surprisingly pithy for me. I thought it would be a good thing to use to replace the default text people see when they write an ask. I didn’t realize at first that I had actually replaced the text of the “ask me anything” link on my blog. But it didn’t seem to stop people from sending asks, so I left it there. I can’t say it STOPS people from being dicks, but most people who send me asks are very nice either way. Queer/social justice is kind of a broad topic (two broad topics really) so I’ll just give you a sampling of my favorites and my to-reads: Boys Like Her: Transfictions - I don’t know how it would hold up today, but it was amazing in 1998. IIRC, at least one of the authors is intersex and trans, and writes about that, and there are a lot of pieces about being genderqueer and/or queer in general. (The book is “a provocative collection of fiction and images from Taste This, a queer performance group including Anna Camilleri, Ivan Coyote, Zoe Eakle and Lyndell Mongomery.”) 

I really need to read For Colored Boys Who Speak Softly, by “undocuqueer” poet Yosimar Reyes. He wrote A Poem So That The Weight Of This Country Does Not Crush You. He is an amazing author/activist; I follow him on Facebook, and even his Facebook posts are perfect: 

“My art is for my Undocumented people I could care less if the average American doesn’t know why I can’t become legal and I am no longer going to answer that question. They can go on google. My priority is making sure my people don’t despair. My audience is my own and I’m unapologetic about that!”

“You think it’s just about a social security number but just imagine how much that number gives you access. There are so many young people of color that give up cause this country tells them it’s not their home and they were born here. I know this country is not mine to claim according to some people but when is this country going to acknowledge that they uprooted me from my home? When are y'all going to start facing the violence of your history?” 

Sunnybrook: A True Story With Lies, by Persimmon Blackbridge is short and colorful, and groundbreaking for me in exposing the ableism in the mental health industry, and helping me understand disability rights around mental health in general. It’s “he hilarious and angry story of a young woman who fakes her way into a job that changes her life. One cover-up follows another as Diane hides her learning disabilities from her new employer, the ‘Sunnybrook Institution for the Mentally Handicapped’ and her girlfriend. But her dreams of becoming ‘a professional’ are threatened by her identification with the inmates at Sunnybrook. And when Diane meets Shirley-Butch at the bar, her lesbian identity and her psychiatric history become irrevocably intertwined. Moving back and forth between Diane’s job and her personal life, Sunnybrook is by turns funny, tragic and sexy. It is a riveting and visually arresting story about a group of people whose lives are made up of small acts of resistance, who steal moments of joy whenever possible.” Very Tumblr. Persimmon Blackbridge’s entire body of work is amazing, lots of radical queer working-class mentally-ill fiction. I loved Transgender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman, which is sort of a combination of a memoir and a stroll through people who transcended gender norms throughout history. It’s not a well-sourced historical text arguing that each person was trans, it’s basically a trans person going “look at this, these people’s experiences were similar to ours.” 

I don’t know how it would hold up today, but there are two books that do a more “real”, rigorous, intentional historical exploration of trans people that I really want to read: Transgender History, by Susan Stryker (a bi trans historian) and um… 

Ok, and that’s the only one, because I thought the other one was an updating of Transgender Warriors, but it’s actually a collection of trans writing and art from people all around the world: Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation. One review says, “The editors have made selections representative of the diversity to be found in the global trans* community - those sharing their thoughts and experiences express a range of gender identities - and some decline gender identification all together. While many of the voices come from North America, there are contributors from all around the world - Spain, Singapore, Mexico, Argentina, Kenya among others - and from a multitude of ethnic backgrounds. The contributions range from the deeply personal to the highly theoretical, from formal essay to autobiographical narrative to poetry to visual art.” 

I need to read Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution, by Shiri Eisner; River read it last year and the bits I glimpsed (or got to hear out loud) were too good. 

Ditto Queer And Trans Artists of Color: Stories of Some Of Our Lives, where Nia King “discusses fat burlesque with Magnoliah Black, queer fashion with Kiam Marcelo Junio, interning at Playboy with Janet Mock, dating gay Latino Republicans with Julio Salgado, intellectual hazing with Kortney Ryan Ziegler, gay gentrification with Van Binfa, getting a book deal with Virgie Tovar, the politics of black drag with Micia Mosely, evading deportation with Yosimar Reyes,” [oh hey!] “weird science with Ryka Aoki, gay public sex in Africa with Nick Mwaluko, thin privilege with Fabian Romero, the tyranny of "self-care” with Lovemme Corazon, “selling out” with Miss Persia and Daddie$ Pla$tik, the self-employed art activist hustle with Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarsinha, and much, much more.” On the “bi trans author” topic, I really want to read Excluded: Making Feminist and Queer Movements More Inclusive, by Julia Serano. She is a very clear and well-reasoned writer, and it also seems like a “very Tumblr book”: “Among LGBTQ activists, there is a long history of lesbians and gay men dismissing bisexuals, transgender people, and other gender and sexual minorities. In each case, exclusion is based on the premise that certain ways of being gendered or sexual are more legitimate, natural, or righteous than others…. Serano advocates for a new approach to fighting sexism that avoids these pitfalls and offers new ways of thinking about gender, sexuality, and sexism that foster inclusivity rather than exclusivity.” I have a lot of concerns tho because at least one reviewer noted that she totally leaves race out of it, which ?????W HYYYYYYYY???? why would you do that when talking about feminism OR inclusivity?????????? It’s possible that Whipping Girl would be a better read; it’s certainly an extremely highly recommended one. This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color is old but is still fucking amazing, and was ground-breaking as hell. I can’t do it justice, click through and read the reviews. As one of them says, it’s a must-read. 

Back on to-reads, “Born on the Edge of Race and Gender: A Voice for Cultural Competency “ by Willy Wilkinson is one I’ve only flipped through in the bookstore but it looked really good and fun. “This poetic, journalistic memoir shines an intersectional beacon on the ambiguity and complexity of mixed heritage, transgender, and disability experience, and offers an intimate window into how current legislative and policy battles impact the lives of transgender people. Whether navigating the men’s locker room like a “stealth trans Houdini,” accessing lifesaving health care, or appreciating his son’s recognition of him as a “transformer,” Wilkinson compellingly illustrates the unique, difficult, and sometimes comical experiences of transgender life.”

ok, i think that is a good start! 

[vdbstore-blog]

New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/munroe-bergdorf-on-the-loreal-racism-row-it-puzzles-me-that-my-views-are-considered-extreme-global/

Munroe Bergdorf on the L’Oréal racism row: ‘It puzzles me that my views are considered extreme’ | Global

By 8.12pm on Sunday, Munroe Bergdorf is done in. It is a week since she was announced by L’Oréal as the face of True Match, a campaign that marries makeup to social justice, and three days since she was sacked unceremoniously. A BBC 2 producer is on the phone, talking to her about an interview with Victoria Derbyshire the next morning. “It has been the worst week of my life,” she tells him, trying to deflate the tension with a laugh. Prompted to explain why it has been so bad, she reels off “the death threats, threats of rape, threats of assault, people telling me to kill myself, the general bombardment and fear that something else will happen”. She pauses, then sighs. She hasn’t left her flat in days. “The most ridiculous thing is that you call out racism and they respond with more racism. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Bergdorf, a 30-year-old, black, queer, trans woman who models and DJs, is no stranger to abuse and ridicule. Her very existence is subversive and threatening enough to the mainstream that a trickle of racist, homophobic and transphobic bile has become par for the course in her daily life on and offline – but now it has become a torrent.

As the Daily Mail reported it on Friday, “with a dizzying fanfare, she was brought in as the ‘face of modern diversity’. But days after she was announced as L’Oréal’s first transgender model, Munroe Bergdorf launched an extraordinary rant declaring all white people racist”. The story went viral, reported everywhere from Al-Jazeera to the New York Times.

“I’m trying to think of the best ways to get across what I actually said,” she tells me, over a picnic of French fries and apple Tango at her kitchen table.

Bergdof (left) DJing with Lina Bradford (centre) and Yasmine Petty in New York last November. Photograph: Drummond/BFA/Rex/Shutterstock

She explains that, the morning after the rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, where an anti-racist protester was killed by a white supremacist, she wrote a Facebook post in response to that event. “It was an epic three-parter about how racism is a social structure and how, if this is the case, what can you do to combat racism?” She says the post was deleted by Facebook for breaching its terms on hate speech; the racist, transphobic comments made about Bergdorf, however, were left up. (A Facebook representative said: “We haven’t yet got to the bottom of what happened to Munroe’s post”, but “we are looking into it.”) The post was then filleted for its most incendiary lines: “Most of ya’ll don’t even realise or refuse to acknowledge that your existence, privilege and success as a race is built on the backs, blood and death of people of colour,” she wrote. “Your entire existence is drenched in racism. From micro-aggressions to terrorism, you built the blueprint for this shit. Come see me when you realise racism isn’t learned, it’s inherited and consciously or unconsciously passed down through privilege. Once white people begin to admit their race is the most violent and oppressive force of nature on Earth … then we can talk.”

Unsurprisingly, Bergdorf made some people uncomfortable, made some people cheer and pissed off many others, including her mother, who is white and reads the Daily Mail. “That was an awful conversation. I’m half-white. My mum thought I was lumping her in with everyone, but this isn’t about individuals. To understand my point, you have to take yourself out of the conversation – it’s not about you – and truly think about society, structurally, economically, as a whole.”

But isn’t that the trouble? Lots of people won’t and don’t understand. Not everyone reads Frantz Fanon and Patricia Hill Collins for kicks – academic theory will only go so far in convincing the average person on an average street that institutionalised, systemic racism is just as damaging as a violent, racist attack.

“I don’t regret what I said,” she says, calmly. “I’m an activist. Being an activist means calling people out, not just saying what everyone else is saying and what everyone else wants to think and upholding the common consensus. L’Oréal knew that when they hired me.”

Bergdorf on ITV’s Good Morning Britain with Piers Morgan and Susanna Reid. Photograph: Ken McKay/ITV/Rex/Shutterstock

This isn’t provocation for provocation’s sake; Bergdorf knows there is no time to pussyfoot until everyone else catches up.

“I can wholeheartedly say that the dictionary definition of racism was written a very long time ago and not by a person of colour. It doesn’t allow us to have a conversation about modern-day racism. If you’re not aware of it, then make yourself aware of it. Racism isn’t just calling someone something, it’s a whole system. If you think we live in an equal society, you’re living in a daydream. You need to recognise that there is such a thing as white privilege and you can be homeless and still have white privilege, because you can still have a better chance of getting out of homelessness than a person of colour in the same position.”

Isn’t the problem that the language is outmoded? It’s hard to get people on board when “racist” is a loaded catch-all umbrella to describe everything from unconscious biases in the workplace to US neo-Nazis.

“We do have the language,” she says, “but it needs to be out there: unlearning, microaggressions, being complicit, unconscious bias, privilege – these need to be taught, we need to address why syllabuses only teach white history, we need to speak about slavery and the brutality of colonialism.”

Bergdorf’s speaking voice is an even-handed murmur; she pauses occasionally, apologising for what feel like rocks in her throat. Someone she knew from university, she says, sold the story to the Daily Mail and bragged about it.

She deliberately hasn’t seen friends or family since the story broke because “I need to deal with it without being told constantly ‘It’s going to be OK’, when who knows if it will be.” Her flatmate has been around and friends have rallied, but, for the most part, she has been managing alone, without an agent or a PR. She has four upcoming campaigns this year; three of her clients have yet to call her to confirm that is still the case. It is irrelevant, she says, because her principles will always come first.

“My body has always been political – the way people respond to my body has always been political, whether or not it was about gender or race,” she says. “I grew up in a white-majority area on the borders of Hertfordshire and Essex … but I’m mindful of my parents and giving too much away; they’re really worried.” She had a solidly middle-class upbringing, with one younger brother who is “straight and super woke and the first person I called”. Her dad is Jamaican and her mum is white English. “Dad was tough on me growing up as a very effeminate boy, but we’re very close now. Mum is feisty and super successful, heading up PR for a financial company.”

‘Dad was tough on me growing up as a very effeminate boy, but we’re very close now’ … Munroe Bergdorf. Photograph: Teri Pengilley for the Guardian

Bergdorf was horribly bullied at her all-boys school and beaten up. She says the loneliness she felt through her teenage years was intense. “I lived in my own head and in make-believe. I was obsessed with Cyndi Lauper – I still am. She gave me a lot of strength: that quote ‘On my darkest days I wear my brightest clothes’ is still true for me.” We laugh – today she is wearing sombre, black tights and a grey marl top; understandably, she is not ready for dressing up. “The mornings have been the worst, as my anxiety has been super high and it’s difficult to get up.” She shows me pages of abusive social media screenshots. “I didn’t get out of bed till 1pm today.” Isn’t it a form of self-harm, to put herself through it? “No, I need to know what’s going on so I can feel in control. And I’m resilient: I worked hard at it.”

Bergdorf studied English at the University of Brighton. “I guess I was genderqueer, but there weren’t really the words to express my identity – I just started wearing makeup and heels.” A three-year career in fashion PR followed university before she “crashed and burned”. When she decided to transition at 24, she also learned how to DJ so “I could be myself, self-care and make money. Needing that time and space to yourself is why a lot of trans girls fall into sex work, because the process is expensive and the money is reliable”. She sighs. “Trans women of colour are being killed at an alarming rate.” When she was transitioning, she says the average life expectancy for a trans woman like her was 30. “At the time, I thought: ‘That’s only a few years. I should be speaking about this.’”

Bergdorf was raped during the period she was transitioning; she reported it to the police, but the attacker was never found. She took even more strongly to activism. “It wasn’t just standing up for rights that were my own,” she explains. “Islamophobia, antisemitism, anything I saw that I didn’t think was right, I would protest or post. I think that’s the stance everyone should take: if white people protested and worked to dismantle racism … I would have loved to have seen the reaction around Brexit from liberals with racism. If people rallied around issues that don’t affect them as well ones that do, we’d be getting shit done.”

Bergdorf built an audience – and influence – within the LGBT community, partially through DJing. “It was the best investment. I was 25, got loads of gigs and it felt like it was what I was always meant to do. I had a lot of fun. I was a complete wild child and went off the rails and did all that rock star shit.”

Despite cabin fever, and stressful breaks to deal with her buzzing phone, Bergdorf is warm, smart and charming; on meeting her, you can understand how she has made the connections that have built her career. A shoot for a couture Lebanese Muslim collection was her first modelling gig; campaigns with Illamasqua and Boy London followed.

She was shopping on Thursday afternoon when L’Oréal called her about the story the Daily Mail said it was going to publish. “I kept explaining the context and the full post and they wouldn’t listen. They said not to go out and not to talk to anyone.” In a statement, L’Oréal said, without irony, that it “supports diversity and tolerance towards all people irrespective of their race, background, gender and religion … we are proud of the diversity of the ambassadors who represent this campaign. We believe that the recent comments by … Munroe Bergdorf are at odds with those values and as such we have taken the decision to end the partnership with her.”

L’Oréal’s key ambassador, Cheryl Cole, was found guilty of assault for beating up a black nightclub toilet attendant, but evidently that doesn’t conflict with the company’s policies. (Cole was cleared of racially aggravated assault.) Clara Amfo, a Radio 1 DJ and a L’Oréal True Match ambassador, quit the campaign in solidarity with Bergdorf, partially in protest at the hypocrisy of the situation.

“It puzzles me that my views are considered out of touch and extreme,” says Bergdorf. But it is an argument from which she can’t run. “I said no three times to Good Morning Britain,” she says. “But then I thought: ‘This is what you’re meant to be doing and this is a conversation that needs to be had. A lot of people are relying on you.” On Monday morning, her conversation with Piers Morgan goes as we discussed it would the evening before: Morgan asks if he is racist, says he is offended at being considered racist or sexist and shuts down Bergdorf. “The split between support and hatred has been about 50/50,” she says later that day. “On the one hand, it’s amazing, but it is horrible and awful to think that people hate me.”

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