Mrs. Capricious
2 min readFeb 11, 2024


Jim, I absolutely share the exact same pain. I might live a continent and six hours away, but Merseyside, where I live, is renowned for its humour, its music, its warmth. Its overall sense of identity. The people of Liverpool aren't like the rest of the UK. Decades spent as the UK’s primary point of access to American culture, as well as mass Irish immigration has given my home a very distinct flavour.

Yet my own elected representative, the first openly lesbian member of parliament no less, asked me for my 'real name' during a voice-only Zoom conference. There were only ten of us. But another attendee was a trans woman too. This MP is someone I've met face to face, pre-transition, and have corresponded with countless times (hell, I was even mates with an ex-lover of hers). Yet even she couldn't do me the courtesy of not questioning my identity because, as I've noted more than once, I have a resonant voice that's largely therapy-proof. And in any case I refuse to allow my deep voice to compromise my womanhood.

More broadly, of course, all the major parties of the UK vary only in the depths of their commitment to transphobia. It's no longer even a question of their stance. It's a question of extremity. Does this or that party want to stop me playing rugby or do they want me dead and gone?

My country is only decades post-Section 28, the infamous legislation that prevented the 'promotion' of anything remotely gay, and by extention, trans. An entire generation (not mine, but certainly my girlfriend's) forced into the closet for 16 years. Denied any support.

And now we're returning to that awful ethos, but with trans people front and centre with LGB cis people close behind. We're seeing rises in hate crimes year on year, and the briefest glance at our media or our politicians makes plain why the atmosphere is so febrile.

We have returned to scary times after a period of apparent respite so brief as to seem twice as cruel.

I can't help but reflect on how little has changed in your and my lifetimes.


We remain strong, sure, steadfast. We know who we are, whether gay, trans, both, or otherwise queer. They (that nebulous coalition of uneasy bedfellows united only in their hatred of us) can never take that away from us. And I defy them to try.

Much love,



Mrs. Capricious

Capricious by name, steadfast by nature. Trans femme dyke. Smutsmith. Provocateur. Witch. Poet. Slut. Idiot.