Setting the Scene...

We sit in the Flirt Cafe in Bournemouth Town Centre, an eatery which prides itself on being an LGBTQ+-friendly venue. T o make everything slightly less awkward, as interactions with strangers tend to begin, I invest in a coffee. Well, a hot chocolate, because I am a child at heart. On the other side of the table sits Julie Miller, one of the UK’s first gender authenticity consultants. She first caught my attention about a year ago when Channel Four aired a documentary on Transmaxxing, which sees men transition to try and access the proposed benefits of being a woman. Of course we talked about this fascinating topic in detail, which will surely crop up again in the coming weeks, but my main interest was in her personal journey. 

Julie Miller, one of the UK's first gender authenticity consultants.

Around fifty years ago, Julie began grappling with gender dysphoria. This is where a person considers their sex, which are their biological characteristics, to be in conflict with their gender, which are their societal characteristics such as masculinity or femininity. Half of the time she lives as a man, because of her love for her wife who says that she will divorce her if she fully transitions. I find it highly inspiring when Julie tells me how comfortable she feels to be sitting in the Flirt Café, dressed in makeup and women’s clothes.

A big part of her role as gender recognition specialist involves visiting local schools, prisons and universities to introduce the concepts of gender and particularly of conversion therapy. All her talks revolve around her own story. “I am really lucky to not have experienced people bible-bashing at me,” she says, referring to religious conversion therapy. “But I have experienced societal conversion therapy. Everyone stares at you, asking really embarrassing and rude questions like ‘excuse me, mate, why are you wearing a skirt?’ ‘What’s up your skirt?’. It is the most harmful form of conversion therapy, and the one nobody talks about.”

This story is very different from Ayobami Kenny’s, who spoke to me last week about that same bible-bashing. He spoke about religious communities trying to “pray the gay away, using the bible as a weapon”. Any bans enforced around the globe tend to only outlaw medical conversion therapy, which involves using chemicals to surgically “cure” someone or using exposure therapy to train them into associating their preferred identity with something painful like an electric shock. Ayobami says the conversion therapy his parents forced him through, of using religion to make someone feel ashamed of themselves, will unfortunately remain active. “The law is doing nothing to stop conversion therapy,” he said. “From a religious standpoint, we are scared.”

Speaking to those who have witnessed conversion therapy first-hand, and are now using those experiences to offer second-hand support to those facing these traumas today, has broadened my understanding of how important it has become to not shy away from telling their stories which so many seem afraid of giving a platform to. Now comes the point of establishing contacts and reaching out to others impacted on either side of the debate. Today will be a laptop day, as I stare at my passive aggressive water bottle which tells me that if I drink all my water by 1pm then “You Did It!”. As I reflect on how strong Julie and Ayobami both are to overcome the prejudices of those around them, and have come out ever stronger on the other side, I continue my mission to tell this story. Watch this space, but for now I must disappear. A frantic day of emailing and phone calling lies ahead.