Terf Wars. Beata Zawrzel/NurPhoto via Getty

The last thing I would want to do, as a journalist, is to sue a publication for libel. But after enduring years of distress and provocation from PinkNews, I finally changed my mind. The final straw came in May 2020, I had gone to bed early in preparation for a 5am start the next day. But then my phone started beeping as several WhatsApp messages came through. I flicked through them quickly. Four women, all of whom I knew through feminist campaigning, were alerting me to the fact that there was, as one put it, “yet another ‘horrible’ article” about me on PinkNews. “You are not named but I think it’s blatantly obvious it’s about you.” I turned off my phone and went to sleep.
The next day, I read the article. It referred to high-profile lesbian journalists and was based on an interview with an American woman called Amy Dyess (now known as Beau Dyess), with whom I had briefly spoken a few months earlier when she was planning to come over to the UK to speak at the same event as me. I had cut off all contact with Dyess after I grew tired of her constant slating of a number of feminists I respected — I had heard she was not pleased at being rejected.
“The ‘gender critical’ feminist movement is a cult that grooms, controls and abuses, according to a lesbian who managed to escape,” was the headline of the article. “Looking back on her time in the ‘gender critical’ feminist movement, she is unequivocal: it’s a cult,” the story read. “A cult that groomed her when she was vulnerable and sleeping in her car; a cult that sought to control her, keeping tabs on her movements and dictating what she could and couldn’t say; a cult that was emotionally and sexually abusive towards her.”
“One British lesbian even promised to find Amy a wife, so she could stay in the UK and galvanise the struggling gender-critical movement here,” the article continued. As well as the fact that there are no other high profile lesbian journalists in the UK who had been regularly targeted by PinkNews, this was enough to lead several individuals to identify me. I had come to be associated with the so-called Terf movement and a hate figure — mainly as a result of all that PinkNews coverage. I also learned that weeks earlier, Dyess had made allegations about me on Twitter, including that I had “promised to find her a wife” when she visited the UK.
The next morning I searched my name on Twitter and found that within a very short time of the article being published, I had been identified as the person referred to in the article. Speculation was rife as to exactly what level of criminal behaviour I had been involved in. I was horrified. Even my fiercest enemies recognise that I have been at the forefront of campaigning to end exploitation, coercive control, and all other forms of violence and abuse towards women and girls — for decades — and yet the implication was that I was involved in the abuse of a vulnerable lesbian.
My partner — a human rights lawyer — read the article and was aghast. Neither of us quite knew what to do. I considered my options: ignore it and thereby invite accusations of guilt; deny the allegations, which would be absolutely outrageous and bring about further suspicion; or try to tear it apart in a humorous way. I took the third option. I felt I had no choice because there was so much Twitter chatter identifying me as the subject of the article.
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