MAKING ROOM FOR EVERYONE

Following the UK Supreme Court’s ruling on the legal definition of ‘woman’, trans people have become even more vulnerable to exclusion in gendered spaces. Responding to the case, Dublin Lesbian Line Chair Val Hourigan outlines why trans-inclusive lesbian work is non-negotiable.

Lesbian — Trans — Inclusivity

In April, the UK Supreme Court ruled that the word ‘woman’ in the Equality Act refers specifically to biological sex. While this may appear on the surface to be a technical matter of statutory interpretation, the implications reach far beyond the courtroom. For many in the LGBTQ+ community, especially trans and non-binary people, this ruling touches on the fundamental question of belonging. Who is recognised, who is protected, and who is left out? It’s a moment that reaffirms the urgent need for clarity, courage, and solidarity in a context where trans and non-binary people already face disproportionate levels of discrimination, violence, and mental health struggles. As evidenced by research from organisations like Stonewall, which found that 41 per cent of trans people in the UK had experienced a hate crime or incident in the past 12 months, this ruling lands not in isolation, but in a broader social and political climate that is increasingly hostile to gender diversity. This is not just about legal definitions, it’s about the message such rulings send to already marginalised people. That their existence is up for debate, that their identities are subject to scrutiny, and that their access to safety and dignity is conditional.

As a lesbian and a member of the team at Dublin Lesbian Line, I’ve had the privilege of working within a vibrant and evolving community. At the Line, we provide support to LGBTQ+ women and non-binary people across Ireland. In this work, one thing has become absolutely clear: trans and non-binary people have always been part of our community, and any definition of ‘lesbian’ or ‘woman’ that excludes them is historically, politically, and ethically incomplete.

Transphobia doesn’t always arrive at the front door waving a flag; it often creeps in quietly in the language we use, in the policies we endorse, in the boundaries we draw around identity, and in the decisions made about who gets access to what kinds of care and support. The UK ruling has been welcomed by some gender-critical voices as a win for women’s rights. But we must ask ourselves honestly and critically, whose rights are we protecting when those definitions reinforce exclusion, fear, and harm? And what kind of movement do we want to build, one rooted in resistance and solidarity, or one that allows fear to shrink the space for all of us?

“We don’t lose by opening our arms wider. We all gain in richness, in humanity, in depth, and in community—the kind we’re capable of building together.

Trans women are women. Non-binary people, too, experience unique forms of discrimination and erasure that intersect with sexism, homophobia, and other systemic barriers. According to the 2023 ILGA-Europe report, hate crimes against trans and non-binary people are on the rise across Europe, with limited institutional accountability or public understanding. When we deny individuals access to the spaces and support systems they need (including those historically established for women and lesbians), we aren’t just failing them. We are actively signalling that their safety, identity, and wellbeing are secondary to the comfort of those unwilling to expand their view of womanhood. At Dublin Lesbian Line, we choose a different path, one rooted in relational care, solidarity, and an unwavering commitment to inclusion. Our volunteers regularly speak with people who are navigating questions around identity, mental health, isolation, and belonging. Among these voices are many trans and non-binary individuals seeking a space where they can feel heard and not judged, affirmed and not questioned. What they’re asking for isn’t complicated. They want to be seen. To be recognised as whole people. To access the same compassion and community that others take for granted.

That’s why we’ve worked over the years to evolve our approach, from the language we use as a charity to the way we centre intersectional awareness in our decision-making. We acknowledge openly that we don’t always get it right. But we remain committed to learning, unlearning, and recommitting because inclusion is not a checklist. It is a living, breathing, daily practice. We also believe fundamentally that lesbian identity is not rigid or fixed. It is expansive, creative, and alive. There are trans lesbians. There are non-binary lesbians. There are lesbians who use he/him pronouns and lesbians who don’t relate to the word ‘woman’ at all. This richness doesn’t dilute our sense of community, it makes it more real. More grounded. More truthful. Understanding this diversity is not about erasing what came before. It’s about honouring the fullness of who we are now, and who we’ve always been.

So why do some groups still struggle with trans inclusion? Often, it comes down to fear. Fear of change, of ambiguity, or of losing control over spaces that once felt certain and safe. There may also be grief, grief over a vision of womanhood that no longer fits neatly into old frameworks, and grief over identities that feel destabilised by progress or redefinition. These feelings are real, but they are not reasons to retreat. Inclusion isn’t subtraction. Inclusive spaces don’t erase anyone; they grow, stretch, and adapt to make room for everyone.

The belief that we must choose between protecting one group and welcoming another is not just false, it’s harmful, disempowering, and deeply limiting. We don’t lose by opening our arms wider. We all gain in richness, in humanity, in depth, and in community—the kind we’re capable of building together. It’s also essential to confront the influence of institutional transphobia, the kind amplified in media narratives, political discourse, policymaking, and even within some corners of the LGBTQ+ community itself. This atmosphere can breed suspicion, fear, and unnecessary division. But it doesn’t have to. We can choose a different culture, one grounded in curiosity rather than certainty, compassion instead of control, and solidarity over suspicion. We all deserve better, and we have the power to build it together.

Lesbian and feminist movements have always been at their strongest when rooted in justice, generosity, and deep courage. Our history is one of pushing against boundaries, not reinforcing them. The fight for lesbian rights has always been intertwined with wider movements for liberation, racial justice, economic justice, reproductive rights, and gender freedom. We have never existed in isolation, and our strength has always come from solidarity. When we narrow our definition of who belongs, we do a disservice to that legacy and to the future we’re still building. At Dublin Lesbian Line, we’re proud to be part of a community that insists on expansive inclusion not as an ideal, but as a lived and evolving practice. We know that our liberation is intimately connected to that of our trans and non-binary siblings. That’s not just a belief, it’s a responsibility, one we actively recommit to in our values, our actions, and our advocacy.

To anyone feeling uncertain or overwhelmed by these conversations, I offer this: start by listening. Not to those who shout the loudest or speak from fear, but to those living these realities every day consistently, quietly, bravely. Let their stories shape your understanding, even if it challenges you. Because in the end, the question isn’t whether trans and non-binary people belong in lesbian spaces. The real question is: what kind of community do we want to be and what kind of legacy do we hope to leave behind?