Everything you've always wanted to know about trans issues (but were afraid to ask)

Writing for NS Trans Issues Week, Jennie Kermode outlines the facts about trans issues and language - an area where prejudice and confusion so often get in the way.

1. What is the difference between a transvestite and a transsexual person?

A transsexual person needs a permanent change of gender role, often accompanied by bodily changes, in order to feel comfortable. A transvestite, also called a cross dresser, is a man who dresses in a way usually associated with women, or vice versa. For some transvestites this is just a bit of fun or a way of challenging gender norms; for others it reflects a deep seated need. Some people go through a stage of cross dressing on the way to coming out as transsexual.

2. I've seen people talking about trans* issues. What is the asterisk for?

The asterisk shows that "trans" is being used as an umbrella term, covering not just transsexual people but also transvestites and people who don't identify as male or female.

3. Why do some people in the trans* community find "tranny" problematic?

It's a word that has strong associations wth pornography and it's often shouted at people in the street in an abusive way. This can be accompanied by a threat of violence — sadly not uncommon — so people are reminded of that fear when they encounter the word elsewhere.

4. What happens when a person transitions from one gender to another - what's the process?

There's no one-size-fits-all procedure. The primary process is psychological and social — learning to fit into a different social role and hoping loved ones can adjust to that. Most people take hormones, which can make them feel more mentally relaxed even before starting to change their bodies. Many go on to have surgery.

5. Do all trans people have surgery?

No. Some people are not able to, for medical reasons. For others, intimate changes don't feel necessary as long as their gender is generally accepted — after all, when we meet strangers, we don't usually need to see their genitals to decide what gender we think they are. Many trans men have breasts removed but don't have genital surgery because it carries a risk of urological problems. This means that the notion of "pre-op" and "post-op" trans people is misleading. For many, changing social role is a much bigger deal anyway.

6. What does being genderqueer mean?

This is one of several terms that people use to describe not feeling either male or female. This is different from just not having much sense of gender. For some people, it's a very strong feeling and may lead to them seeking medical assistance to align their bodies with their identities. For others, it's about creating a space in which to escape from the usual expectations of gendered behaviour.

7. I've seen some people call themselves "queer". Is that an OK word for straight people to use?

Because it has a history of being used as a term of abuse, it's best to avoid it in generral discourse. In smaller social circles you may find that people don't mind, but it never hurts to ask.

8. What inaccurate clichés about trans people do you see in the media?

Most transsexual people don't think of themselves as changing sex — they have a consistent sense of gender identity. Rather, they feel that bodily changes are about feeling more comfortable in their own skins and having their gender more easily recognised by others, confirming their existing identities. By and large, they are no more concerned about being manly men or beautiful women than the average person. Some know they will never "pass" very well but passing isn't the point — they hope people will respect the clear signals that they're sending about their gender. The media tends to find these concepts difficult. Likewise, it tends to present people without male or female gender identities as confused (much like the clichés that exist about bisexual people) whereas most have a very clear sense of their gender, it just isn't one that onforms with society's expectations. Finally, there's the notion that all trans people are attention-seekers. In fact, most just want to get on with their lives.

9. Are there more M2F transgendered people than F2M? And if so, why?

We used to think so but gender clinics now tell us they have about equal numbers coming forward to seek help. It's sometimes easier for trans men to stay in the closet because masculine behaviour in women is more socially acceptable than feminine behaviour in men.

10. What does "cis" mean?

It's simply a catch-all term referring to people who are not trans.

11. What kind of problems and challenges do trans people face in everyday life, and in getting treatment?

They are often rejected by family and friends, they can find it difficult to secure employment (especially before getting medical support) and they face high rates of stress-related mental health problems. It is estimated that around 45 per cent of trans people attempt suicide at least once — nine times the rate for the wider population. Trans people are often subjected to verbal abuse and threats from strangers and face a higher than average risk of being assaulted, with this being worse in some areas than others. Getting medical support is a bit of a lottery. There's a new system in Scotland which is very good, but not enough specialist doctors yet to make it work. In England, many people struggle to get taken seriously, face obnoxious treatment from medical profesionals (as exemplified in the recent #transdocfail Twitter thread) and face long waiting lists, while genderqueer people have to pretend to be transsexual if they want to get any treatment at all. This is particularly tough for people who can't afford to go private.

12. What proportion of the population is transgender?

This really depends on how widely you want to cast your net. Around one in five people try cross dressing, even if it's just for fun, and lots of people feel uncomfortable with the roles set out for them as men or women. The number of people who feel a strong need to change roles is much smaller, probably around 0.8 per cent of the population. Of course, that's still a lot of people overall, and the problems they face also affect their friends and families.

If you need to talk to somebody because you think you might be trans, The Gender Trust can help. For young trans people and their parents, Mermaids provides excellent support.

Jennie Kermode is Chair of Trans Media Watch and writes at Eye For Film

A person holds a placard reading "I am the one who decide how I dress and not your standards" as he takes part in the 16th Existrans in France. Photograph: Getty Images

Jennie Kermode is Chair of Trans Media Watch and writes at Eye For Film.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era