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












