When You’re Gender-Critical – and You’re Woke

We don’t often talk about the internal contradictions in today’s social movements. But I do in this piece. Please let me know what you think in the comments below

It’s easier – and certainly more comfortable – to imagine people as consistent in their beliefs: either progressive or conservative, open-minded or close-minded, left or right, right or wrong. But reality doesn’t fit neatly into ideological boxes, and nowhere is this more evident than in the quiet discomfort of the gender-critical woke.

Lately, there’s been growing discussion about the woke right – and while the two tribes share some notable traits, they are not the same. The woke right are conservative and right-wing; the gender-critical woke are liberal and left-wing. It is only on the issue of gender identity that the gender-critical woke break ranks with their fellow progressives.

Even so, the parallels between all woke factions are hard to ignore. People who are woke – whether on the left or the right – often seek to replace liberal ideals with a rigid moral regime. They prioritise ideological purity over open discourse, and they tend to suppress disagreement rather than engage with it. The emphasis shifts from defending individual liberty to enforcing social orthodoxy.

People who are gender-critical and woke have long considered themselves progressive – often proudly so. They care deeply about racial injustice, climate change, and social inequality. They speak fluently in the language of equity, marginalisation, and identity. They use specialist jargon and acronyms that signal their allegiance to the tribe. And they don’t just understand the unspoken rules of their social context – they enforce them with Soviet-level intensity.

At the same time, the term woke right is now being used to describe conservatives who have embraced the language of victimhood and identity in their own ways. They frame themselves as oppressed by liberal institutions, lean into personal grievance, and demand the censorship of views they dislike – all while claiming to champion free speech and traditional values.

Meanwhile, the gender-critical woke nurse their own personal grievances – particularly around the experience of being labelled “transphobic bigots” by trans activists. But their response isn’t always grounded in dialogue or in defending the freedom to disagree. They, too, can become fixated on moral purity. They are often just as quick to cancel, just as intolerant of dissent, and just as zealous in their policing of language.

In many ways, the woke left, the woke right, and the gender-critical woke all mirror one another. People who are woke use the same tactics, enforce the same rigidity, and cloak it all in the belief that they are simply defending the truth.

But the gender-critical woke are in an especially painful position. They haven’t switched sides. They still hold the same progressive values they always did. And yet, because of a single deviation – one area of doubt – they are treated as traitors to the tribe.

The gender-critical woke parent

People who are woke tend to prioritise lived experience above all else. For this reason, the combination of being gender-critical, woke, and the parent of a trans-identified child is often disastrous.

When a child first announces a new gender identity, the gender-critical woke parent is typically loving, thoughtful, and gently questioning. They may harbour private doubts, but because they’ve been shaped by a worldview that elevates self-identification and validates marginalised experience, they are willing to suppress their inner misgivings. After all, when you’re woke, you’re accustomed to subordinating personal discomfort in favour of group identity. And if embracing a trans identity is what the child seems to need, many parents feel they have no choice but to go along with it.

But as the days turn into months – and in many cases, years – the contradictions become harder to ignore.

Most teenagers who identify as trans do not become happier or more at ease in themselves; in fact, the opposite is often true. They typically grow more anxious, more emotionally dysregulated, and increasingly unhappy. Their thinking becomes rigid and authoritarian. They become hypersensitive to any perceived slight, no matter how benign or unintentional. And their new identity rarely seems to arise from deep introspection – instead it often emerges suddenly, following an extended period spent online in echo chambers that valorise trans identities while aggressively shutting down any questions.

The gender-critical woke parent watches this unfold. They see that their child is not blossoming but floundering. They recognise that the identity has emerged from a complex mix of adolescent distress, social contagion, and online influence. They see their child struggling, not because they are being rejected, but because the identity they’ve adopted does not ease their pain.

At some point, the parent starts to think, often silently and secretly: This doesn’t feel right.

And from that moment – a private, destabilising, and often lonely moment – the parent feels lost. They are no longer fully aligned with the progressive tribe to which they’ve always belonged. They haven't changed their values, but their experience no longer matches the script. And in woke circles, there is little tolerance for dissent, even when it comes from direct, lived experience.

To question the prevailing trans ideology – even gently, even privately – is to risk exile from the very communities that once embraced you. These parents feel confused and often heartbroken. They still hold the same progressive values they always did. But now, for asking the wrong questions, they find themselves cast as villains.

This plays out painfully in family life. In my work with families, a clear pattern has emerged: the more ideologically “woke” the parent, the less likely they are to successfully challenge their child’s suddenly adopted gender identity. And, correspondingly, the less likely the child is to desist. These parents aren't lacking in love or compassion. On the contrary, they are often deeply invested, thoughtful, and committed to doing the right thing. But their belief system leaves them paralysed. There is no shame in being progressive. But there is danger in mistaking ideology for wisdom, or slogans for truth.

Much of the difficulty comes from the underlying principles of modern progressive thought – intersectionality, lived experience, and identity-based authority. These values, while rooted in compassion, can make it nearly impossible to speak plainly. In a framework that privileges emotion over evidence and identity over analysis, parents find themselves unable to question even the most abrupt and confusing declarations from their children. If someone says they are something, then they are. If they say they’ve always felt this way, that must be true. And if you doubt it – even as a loving and concerned parent – then you are doing harm.

There is also the problem of performance. Much of what passes for activism today is not rooted in quiet, behind-the-scenes support, but in visible declarations of allegiance. Whether it’s social media posts, school policies, or publicly following your child’s instructions about pronoun usage, the pressure to look pure often overrides the harder task of acting with integrity. And those who fail to perform correctly can quickly find themselves cancelled, silenced, ousted—or quietly pushed to the margins.

The result is a chilling effect, particularly among the very people who could offer the most valuable insights. Too many professionals are now silent. Too many parents are afraid to speak openly, even in their own homes. And too many children, instead of being supported with curiosity and care, are affirmed without question because the adults around them are too afraid of the consequences of doing otherwise.

Within family dynamics, parents—especially those who are deeply progressive—often feel they must step back and allow their child to lead the conversation. Their respect for “lived experience” becomes a kind of paralysis. They are so afraid of causing harm that they end up doing nothing. And when they do challenge their child, it’s often tentative and apologetic.

But children need guidance. They need adults who can hold boundaries. They need to feel that their parents are confident enough to lead. Affirmation is compliance. It is not support, and it is not leadership.

If you are gender-critical and woke, and you want to help your child desist, you will need to become a thought leader in your own home. That means making space for nuance. It means fostering an environment where disagreement is tolerated – without being treated as hostility. And it means building a family culture where expertise is respected, even when it doesn’t align with someone’s personal narrative.

This kind of leadership at home is not easy, especially when it means standing apart from your tribe or from a wider cultural narrative. It requires confidence, courage, and a willingness to endure discomfort. It may also require you to tolerate a strategic approach. People who are woke are disinclined to believe that the perfect is the enemy of the good. And yet, it is!

The relentless pursuit of purity

I first encountered the gender-critical woke in 2018, when the documentary Trans Kids: It’s Time to Talk aired. At the time, our production team genuinely hoped the film would open up space for compassionate, honest discussion about a highly sensitive topic. Instead – much to our dismay – we found ourselves at the centre of a prolonged online pile-on, not just from trans activists, but also from the gender-critical woke. The activists accused us of being transphobic bigots. The gender-critical woke, meanwhile, fixated on our pronoun usage and language choices. What united both groups was an unwillingness to tolerate nuance, and a shared determination to signal virtue by highlighting villainy.

You can listen to the amazing director of the film speak about the difficulties we confronted trying to get this film broadcast here. It’s an astonishing story that highlights just how oppressive things were in 2018.

It’s notable how people who are woke are very quick to weaponise emotion. They are aggressively compassionate when it suits their purpose, extravagantly sympathetic to anyone they perceive as oppressed, and violently sensitive to any example of wrong-think or wrong-speak. The trans activists were incandescent on behalf of trans people’s sensitivities, while the gender-critical woke were equally outraged on behalf of trans widows – convinced the film had somehow caused searing harm to Stephanie, the wife of Debbie Hayton.

My apparent crime, according to the woke, was that we had committed language crimes. They didn’t care that this was Channel 4 in 2018 and the first time that a detransitioner and a trans widow outlined the issues of trans ideology on mainstream TV. There was no appreciation of the context, no understanding of timing or impact. They had no grasp of strategy – and in fact, they were suspicious of the very concept of using strategy.

I’ve noticed that people who are woke are also often anxious and suspicious. Strategy requires calmness, perspective, and long-term thinking. But when your worldview is shaped by emotional urgency, distrust, and performative outrage, strategy feels like betrayal.

In the film, I interviewed Debbie Hayton, a trans-identified male who had transitioned from male to female and who is openly autogynephilic. At the time, I hadn’t even heard of the term autogynephilia. That didn’t matter. Among the gender-critical woke, forgiveness is not a valued quality.

Our production team had been thrilled to include Debbie’s voice. He was thoughtful and sincere in his opposition to the medical transition of children, which was the central focus of the film. But the interview didn’t unfold as expected. Stephanie, Debbie’s wife, gave a powerful and deeply moving account of the pain she endured when Debbie’s transition shattered their marriage and family life. After reviewing all the footage, we made a strategic choice and decided to prioritise Stephanie’s story over Debbie’s extended critique of child transition. Even though her account was off-topic, we believed it needed to be heard.

The gender-critical woke hated it. I had used words they didn’t like. I hadn’t sufficiently condemned Debbie. I hadn’t exalted Stephanie’s pain in the way they demanded. They went ballistic.

And here’s the thing about the woke mindset: they never forgive. Seven years later, that same interview is still brought up - still used as proof that I am compromised, suspect, or “problematic.” It’s little wonder that I was the only one who stayed in this world; the rest of the production team left this toxic culture behind and moved on. It’s striking that Olly Lambert, the director, then went on to cover some of the most intractable conflicts in the world: Israel, Gaza, and Ukraine.

In the world of the gender-critical woke, there is no room for context. No space for strategy. No allowance for learning or evolving in light of new information. There is only the permanent stain of ideological impurity.

How many have we lost?

Why is it that in today’s climate, disagreement is not tolerated but punished? A bad idea, once upon a time, was something to be debated. Now, it is something to be silenced. Censorship is no longer viewed as a last resort but as a moral imperative. Free speech is increasingly dismissed as a right-wing trope, and plain speaking is frowned upon, replaced by the obligation to virtue signal.

The fear of saying the wrong thing is real. Language is scrutinised for any misstep. Pronouns are policed. Even neutral or compassionate questions, such as “Are we sure this is the best path?” or “Could we explore other options?” are enough to provoke condemnation, simply because they don’t clearly signal allegiance to the tribe. And those who speak out, especially from within the progressive world, are met not with debate but with moral outrage.

It is deeply sad to consider how many gender-critical people have been censured or censored by the gender-critical woke. The list is long, and I’ve probably forgotten many. But among them are: Janice Turner, Debbie Hayton, Fionne Orlander, Miranda Yardley, Kristina Harrison, Buck Angel, Claire Graham, Jack Appleby, Graham Linehan, James Esses, Sarah Phillimore, Rosie Duffield, Claire Fox, Helen Pluckrose, Benjamin Boyce, Mike Bailey, James Cantor, Ken Zucker, Ray Blanchard, Billboard Chris, Genspect, LGB Alliance, Jenny Watson, Kathleen Stock, Julie Bindel, Suzanna Moore, Hadley Freeman, Sarah Ditum, Maya Forstater, Helen Joyce, Women’s Place UK, Judith Green, Labour Women’s Declaration, Fair Play for Women, Aaron Tyrrell, Aaron Kimberly, GD Alliance, Corinna Cohn, Shannon Thrace, Eva Kurilova, Frank Furedi, Alasdair Gunn, James Lindsay, Jordan Peterson, Michael Shellenberger, Mia Hughes, Abigail Shrier, Colin Wright, Christina Buttons, Andrew Doyle, and Jane Clare Jones.

Many on this list have been bullied mercilessly by the gender-critical woke. Several have either moved on from the gender-critical world, locked down their accounts, or simply stopped speaking about this issue altogether. This is our loss. It saddens me deeply that so many well-known voices spoke out about trans issues, were condemned for wrong-speak by the gender-critical woke, and then effectively disappeared from the movement.

Those who are gender-critical and woke themselves may feel the hurt more acutely than the rest of us, because tribalism plays such a powerful role in this context. Many have also turned on each other. For some, it seems more important to belong to the right (left!) group than to wrestle with uncomfortable truths. And in these groups, allegiance is not optional – it is mandatory. Those who hesitate, even for good reason, are quickly cast out.

The gender-critical woke person is someone whose value system has come into conflict with their reality. It takes courage to acknowledge when a belief system you once held tightly no longer fits what you’re seeing unfold in front of you. It takes even more courage to speak up about it.

Because if we can’t hold space for that tension – if we can’t face the moments when our convictions are challenged by experience – then we are no longer seekers of truth. We are simply clinging to ideology. And when that happens, society fractures, the conversation shrinks, and the people who most need our support are left without it.

If we truly want to protect children, support families, and build a better, more honest culture, then we must make room for nuance. We must allow each other to be imperfect, to change our minds, and to ask difficult questions without fear of exile. Integrity doesn’t require purity – it requires humility.