躺槍！不理就是！多名哈利波特演員公開撕羅琳？眾叛親離後，她再發長文反擊！_風聞

ATM观察-2020-06-12 01:27

2020-06-12

從上週末開始，關於**“羅琳歧視跨性別羣體”**的爭論，就一直沒有停息下來過。

隨着時間的推移，這件事情卻沒有被人遺忘，而是愈演愈烈——支持者和反對者唇槍舌炮，將戰場擴大，甚至不斷發展延伸。

報姐之前的推文中，也有説到過這個事情（戳這裏複習）。

不過，這裏還是給不清楚這件事的朋友簡單説一下。

事情的起因，是推上的一篇文章：《為有月經的人創作一個更為平等的後新冠世界》。

而羅琳直接轉發開噴了：“有月經的人？我確信這種人應該有個稱呼吧。”

直接叫Woman，不行嗎？

她的言論引起了軒然大波，因為將**“來月經的人=女性”**，實際上，是否定跨性別者的存在。

跨性別男性，也就是生理性別為女、心理性別為男的跨性別者，也有一部分還未完全變性的，可能仍然還在來月經，但他們不應當屬於“女性”，而被歸類為男性。

反過來，跨性別女性，她們沒有月經，但仍然被歸屬在女性範疇。

羅琳的言論中，直接將來月經=女性，讓很多跨性別者感到失望：**性別這個概念不應當如此使用，應該尊重跨性別人羣的心理性別。**只要ta們心理認為自己是什麼性別，就應該被以該性別對待。

這是一個一直以來的爭議論題：如果一個人的心理性別為女，那麼，即使TA沒有經過任何變性手術，也可以被當做女性看待嗎？就可以進女廁所、女更衣室嗎？就可以以女性身份參加女性運動比賽嗎？

在反駁時，羅琳説：“如果性別不真實存在，又何談“同性之愛”？如果性別不真實存在，那麼全球女性，因為性別而面臨歧視的現實也被抹殺。

我認識也愛着跨性別人羣，但抹除性別的概念，也抹殺了很多人討論自己生活的能力。説真話，並不代表仇恨。”

這條簡單的表態推文，徹底引爆了輿論，被大量反對者抵制：“醫學界廣泛共識證實了跨性別者，並敦促人們予以肯定。但你卻在抹殺他們！”

還有些人表示：您根本不愛跨性別者，也不在乎他們。你的書籍曾經帶給我愛與勇氣，我那麼喜歡你！我那麼喜歡哈利波特！沒想到你是這樣的人！！

有人翻出來她支持名聲不佳的“反跨性別人士”Maya Fostater的言論。

美國紀錄片《小太陽大願望》中的跨性別兄妹“魯卡”和“蓮”

J.K.羅琳？

她有那麼大的影響力，但她卻用這個影響力做了什麼？她一直在用這個影響力號召其他人不要接受跨性別羣體！

她是一個徹徹底底的、歧視、恐跨的激進女權！

作為《哈利波特》的作者，羅琳的言論，在外網引起了轟動，也漸漸有激動的反對者開始湧入《哈利波特》相關人員的推特、Ins，要求他們站出來表態。

“不要讓羅琳錯誤的觀點，影響到更多哈迷。”

作為哈利波特系列電影的出品方，華納針對羅琳的言論，發表了一份聲明。

“華納兄弟在包容性方面的立場十分堅定，我們希望能夠培養多樣性、包容性的文化。”

“我們珍視故事創作者，但也充分意識到：我們有責任去培養同理心，倡導人們對所有羣體的理解，尤其是那些和我們有內容合作的人。”

而擁有哈利波特IP的環球主題公園也表示：“我們的核心價值觀包括多樣性、包容性和尊重。歡迎任何人來這享受時光的地方。除此之外，我們不予進一步置評。”

簡單來講，華納兄弟和環球的態度——基本上就是事不關己高高掛起，我勸了，聽不聽是她的事情。

但比起官方絕對不得罪所有人的圓滑聲明，哈利波特的演員們，卻要旗幟鮮明得多，直言了斷地“向她開炮”。

秋張的演員梁佩詩轉發了一系列跨性別黑人女性慈善項目的鏈接。

金妮的演員邦妮發聲“跨性別女性也是女性，我看到你，並愛你。”

盧娜的演員發聲：“跨性別人羣學着接受自己、愛自己已經足夠有挑戰性，社會不應再給他們增加這樣的痛苦。”

赫敏的演員艾瑪，分享了一張自己穿着跨性別T恤的照片，並表示——

“跨性別人羣無需他人來定義，他們應該過自己的生活，而不應該總是被質疑或被告知自己不是怎樣的人。”

“我希望我的跨性別粉絲知道，我和世界上許多其他人，一直看着你，尊重你，愛着真正的你。”

哈利的演員丹尼爾撰寫了長文，在感謝羅琳對他人生的巨大改變後，也發表了反對的看法。

“跨性別女性就是女性。任何相反的言辭都會抹殺跨性別者的身份和尊嚴，並且違背專業醫療保健協會提供的所有建議。而這些專業人士對於這件事情，比羅和我都專業的多。他們很多都受到過歧視，而我們應當給予更多支持，而不是否定和進一步傷害。”

他同時還對認為羅琳的言論傷害到自己感情的哈迷表示，希望不要讓言論影響到對書的感情。

“書中説，愛是宇宙中最強大的力量，可以戰勝一切；書中説，力量存在於多樣性之中，對於‘純種’的教條式追求會導致針對弱勢羣體的壓迫……如果你曾經共情，曾經因此受助，那麼這就是你和這個故事的聯繫。

這份聯繫是神聖的，沒有人可以觸碰到這一點。”

但最引人注目的是，神奇動物系列主角演員小雀斑站出來的發聲。

“我想表明我的立場：我不同意羅的言論。”

他表示：“尊重跨性別者是一種文化需要，多年來我一直在努力不斷地教育自己，這是一個持續的過程。”

在小雀斑曾經出演的《丹麥女孩》中，他扮演的角色，就是一位飽受痛苦的跨性別者。

因此，他也一直做過很多關於跨性別者的調查，在幾年中，一直堅持不懈地為他們發聲。

“跨性別女性是女人，跨性別男性也是男人，非二元性別是真實存在的。

我永遠不想代表羣體發言，但我知道，我身邊的跨性別者對不斷質疑他們身份的聲音感到厭倦，因為這種質疑也會導致暴力和虐待。他們只是想平靜地生活，現在是時候讓他們這樣做了。”

一石激起千層浪，一時間，所有人都在表態，所有人都在發聲。

羅琳的評論之中，每個人都在指責她對於跨性別者的不尊重，認為她恐跨、認為她歧視跨性別人羣。

但羅琳的反對者的評論下面，卻也都是指責：

“如果男人只要聲稱‘我是女人’，就可以大搖大擺地進入女囚室強姦獄友，直接進入女廁所和女更衣室，參加比賽搶走本應屬於女性的金牌？這不是跨性別者的問題！是對女性權利的侵略！”

就在所有人吵成一團的時候，羅琳又站出來，再次發了一篇長長長長長的文章，闡述自己的觀點，進行反駁。

“儘管我成為眾矢之的——但我，拒絕低頭！”

全文如下（滑動查看）：

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Berns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018, American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people. The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much. It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity. I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

簡單概括一下這篇文章，羅琳最開始，説了這件事情的來龍去脈。

“去年12月，我在推特上支持了Maya。她認為性別由生物學決定、性別二元論，而法官認為她的想法不受保護，她活該丟掉工作。

但其實，我幾年前就開始研究跨性別問題了。我做過研究、關注輿論、也親身和很多跨性別者討論過這個問題，甚至可以稱得上專業、然而在研究中，我手滑的一次點贊，對一位認為“女同不願意和有丁丁的跨性女約會不代表偏執”的女權者的支持，引來了大量的反對謾罵。

所以説，我支持Maya的時候，就知道會發生什麼事：我會被辱罵威脅，會被人説在宣揚仇恨，會被人燒書反對。