Mama Mish

AFLW Team | Round One

“Not in our name.”

I’ve been seeing this show up more and more and loving it.

Over the years, it’s not just the q***r community who’ve shown up for me… It’s been women of all backgrounds and identities. Women who are mums, mentors, mates, and strangers-turned-sisters. Cisgender and q***r. Quietly fierce. Loud when it counts.

What’s happening right now with the Not In Our Name: Women in Support of the Trans+ Community petition isn’t just symbolic; it’s seismic.

Thousands of cisgender women are standing up and saying:
“Don’t use our pain to justify transphobia. You don’t speak for us.”

Sign or read the full statement here: https://lnkd.in/g4Hwi89i

As someone who has copped every kind of judgment for living authentically as a transgender woman, this kind of allyship cuts through the noise. It’s not performative. It’s protective. It’s real.

I’ve long said we’re more supported than we realise. This proves it.

So if you’re a cis woman who’s tired of watching others hijack your voice to harm others, this is your moment.

And to every woman who’s stood beside us (and in front of us when needed): thank you.

Our safety is shared. Our fight is linked. Our future is together.

hashtag hashtag hashtag hashtag hashtag hashtag hashtag hashtag

I've signed the 'Not In Our Name' open letter. We are cis women in support of the trans community and we are clear: those who continue to target this minority group do not speak for us or represent our interests. https://www.change.org/p/not-in-our-name-women-in-support-of-the-trans-community

Some days, staying visible and positive feels like trying to hold up the sky with tired arms.

I sit in front of the keyboard, willing something hopeful to come out, but my heart feels heavy, weighed down by the noise, the cruelty, and the relentless pressure to explain, defend, and smile through it all. And honestly? Sometimes I’ve got nothing: just silence and a lump in my throat.

Then I saw this quote by Tiara Skye in response to a tired, familiar attack: a woman telling her she’d “never be a real woman.” Tiara’s reply hit me in the chest: “I will never be a woman like you, because you’re not the woman I’m trying to be.”

Mic drop. And to that, I’ll add: "I’m raising my daughters to know the same thing and embrace their own form of womanhood too."

As a transgender woman, I’ve had this weaponised rhetoric flung at me more times than I can count, in comment sections, in conversations, and sometimes behind gritted teeth, pretending to be polite. And here’s the thing: I’m not here to be your version of womanhood. I don’t owe anyone that performance. I’m not looking to fit into someone else’s mould. I am, like so many of us, just trying to live, love, raise good kids, be decent, and find peace in this messy world.

But what breaks my heart more than the insults is how successful these narratives have been in keeping us divided.

While we waste precious energy policing who gets to be a “real woman” or who belongs in which space, the people who actually want to hurt us, all of us, are building momentum. They’re passing laws to strip away our rights, cutting access to healthcare and safe spaces, normalising violence, and fanning the flames of fear and disconnection. They don’t care if you’re cisgender or transgender, le***an or bis*xual, q***r or questioning; if you don’t fit into their box, you’re a threat. And they’re coming for us all.

And yet, here we are still fighting each other over who gets to sit at the table, while the table is being set on fire.

Here’s what I know: womanhood is not a competition. It’s not a checklist. It’s not defined by who bleeds, who births, or who bakes the best banana bread. It’s a lived experience that evolves, expands, and refuses to be reduced.

And if we’re smart, if we’re truly wise, we’ll start showing up for each other in all our differences, instead of tearing each other down trying to protect some imagined hierarchy of legitimacy.

Because when my daughters grow up, I want them to see a world where women of all kinds have each other’s backs. Where femininity isn’t policed, it’s respected. Where we stop squabbling over the shape of the flame and start lighting each other’s torches.

I don’t need to be the woman you are.

I’m the woman I am.

And that’s enough. For me. For my daughters.

And for the future we’re all fighting for, whether you like it or not.