Ember's Writing

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reading time 20-30 minutes.

summary; something of a sociological critique of gender criticality through an NVC framing.

As a trans woman practising Nonviolent Communication (NVC), I often find myself in the position of feeling profoundly connected to the radical potential of NVC, while simultaneously bewildered and saddened by its use in ways that appear to maintain the status quo. I have thought deeply about this and largely kept my assessments to myself. It makes so much sense why it is showing up in the ways it is showing up!

Now, I am wanting to name a particular aspect of how it is showing up in ways I enjoy less. This is alongside and in support of entwined struggles in NVC around systemic injustices, I see you.

NVC, at its heart, is about liberation, about creating understanding and connection where there was once alienation. And yet, in my experiences within my NVC communities, I have repeatedly encountered dynamics that perpetuate exclusion, silence, and even harm.

Marshall cites ideas from Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed as foundational to NVC. Thus both practices seek to challenge systems of oppression, most especially they seek to work with internalised structures of power. For Freire, dialogue is never neutral; it is inherently a political act. Yet, in the NVC communities I inhabit, I frequently see Freire’s radical legacy bowdlerized in favour of conflict avoidance, belonging, safety, and “neutrality”. I yearn for authenticity and this is my contribution towards that.

An exemplar of my discomfort is a sense that there maybe a pervasive sympathy for those who hold gender critical ideology. My experience in NVC communities I am part of, is that discourse around gender is rarely as authentic or calm or even occurring as much as I would like. And yet, the topic of gender is frequently part of current politics and headlines – everyone seems to have an opinion.

Microaggressions: Claiming the Power to Silence

Microaggressions, subtle often unintended behaviours or comments that marginalise or diminish, are a frequent reality for many trans people. They are the background noise of exclusion, humming insistently even in spaces where support and inclusion might be expected – such as NVC practise groups and communities. Here are some observed examples;

- “Humans are mammals, sexually reproducing.”

- “I don’t want ideology shoved down my throat.”

- “What can we do to contribute to your feeling safe?”

Of course each of these statements, has its own context, which will contribute to its meaning. The first was a court case (and appears to be the essence of the “sex realist” position), the second was establishing the basic values of an NVC practise group, the third was various contexts including an NVC gathering. Without exploring the dialogue we may only guess what the intended meaning was and whilst it would be easy to identify a charitable meaning, I still think they have useful juice in them. I am confident that they were probably meant innocuously, or even compassionately. And they landed with impact that was, is tricky to word, and the impact includes senses of dismissal and erasure. After really working with the impact of these statements and my own reactivity I share something of the fruits of my labour here.

The statements above offer a useful sample of my experience of living in a hostile culture, and reflect normative deep cultural assumptions about what it means to be human, what it means to belong, and what it means to matter. Perhaps it is because they are part of the dominating normative, such statements are often given with an assured uncritical assumption of 'rightness', alongside assured permission to deliver reactive expressions or rhetoric when challenged. Getting here has been a journey. sorry.

1. “Humans are mammals, sexually reproducing.”

It is uncontroversial that sex is biological. In the context of trans exclusionary discourse, it often functions as a statement of ideology, a reductionist, essentialist claim that privileges reproductive biology. Such statements align with patriarchal and colonial frameworks that have long dismissed those who do not fit neatly into binary, reproductive roles. For trans women, this framing reinforces the notion that we are somehow “less legitimate,” less woman, less human.

So what if reproducer is not top of the list of identities a person holds, or even on the list at all? To focus exclusively on biology is to miss the broader cultural, social, and psychological dimensions of what it means to be human. As some of my peers offer in summary, ‘its not the point’. Humans are not just mammals; they are social beings whose identities are shaped by history, relationships, and individual agency.

Perhaps nurturing is a more useful framing of this essentialism. Some humans are more nurturing than others, we know more nurtured humans are less sociopathic humans, can we please focus on developing that aspect of our humanity already?

And I recognise that people far more erudite have considered this more deeply than me, and when I read websites or other material that seeks to explain the reasonable rationality I find it alarmingly easy to identify ways in which such a positionality prioritises some needs and excludes others in ways I judge are designed to meet political aims and as such contribute to division in ways I don’t enjoy, most especially my enjoyment is diminished when I see these views expressed within an NVC community of practise.

2. “I don’t want ideology shoved down my throat.”

I experienced this as reactivity. I witness that it is offered by those, often who situate themselves as anti-woke, who seek to dismiss trans existence as political rather than personal, ideological rather than rational, insanity rather than cogent, pretend rather than authentic. But the irony, of course, is that gender criticality is itself a deeply ideological stance, rooted in colonial histories of binary gender imposition. Before colonisation, many societies embraced diverse understandings of gender, Two-Spirit identities in North America, Hijra communities in South Asia, and others. To dismiss trans identities as “ideology” is to erase these histories and perpetuate the epistemic violence of colonialism. It is hard for me to hold that with my understanding of Marshall’s work.

Through an empathic lens, when sufficiently resourced I might offer, ‘are you wanting choice?’

3. “What can we do to make you feel safe?”

Ah, the veiled patronage of such statements. It positions trans people as fragile, as problems to be solved, rather than as equal participants. Simultaneously it situates the provisioner in a power positionality, supporting avoidance of discomfort and focusing on fixing. Safety, it implies, is something we are given by the benevolent normal people, rather than a shared commitment to dismantling structures of harm. To me, it echoes a sense of white saviour complex.

Through an empathic lens, when sufficiently resourced I might offer, ‘what can we do such that you feel safe to offer your authenticity?’

In passing, I experienced and witnessed similar problematic patronage when I disclosed my autism during NVC assessment events (what can we do to support you?), and I am glad that even years later I am now better able to word it. Perhaps I would have rather not needed to identify how the event was impacting me whilst impacted because it would have been awesome had the event been designed to hold a culture encompassing the reality of neurodiversity. Instead I am invited to perpetuate the norm of benevolent provision in support of the minority, invited to collude in my own subjugation in the neurohegemony.

Gendered Violence: Shared And Complex

Gendered violence is an outrage experienced by an outrageous statistical proportion of women.

I must take care and ensure I write as an ally and not for cis women. My lived experience is different and I respect cis women’s expertise and lived experience. My understanding is that gendered violence often manifests as harassment, sexual assault, domestic abuse, and reproductive control, even death.

And it is important to me to name that trans men and trans women also experience GV.

I situate GV as deeply rooted in patriarchal structures, a systemic misogyny.

I hear, recognise and deeply respect the fear and anger that many cis women feel as a result of these violations. Their particular need for safety, autonomy, and healing is clear, and it is essential that these needs are honoured in all spaces dedicated to their well-being.

For trans and gender diverse people, gendered violence also poses a significant threat, often compounded by transphobia and intersecting forms of discrimination. By example, trans women may face violence, hostility and exclusion not only for identifying as women but also for defying societal norms around gender.

It is important to acknowledge that while the patterns of violence may differ, both cis and trans women are affected by the same overarching system of patriarchy that enforces rigid gender roles, perpetuates inequality and enacts traumatising harm.

Might it be possible that this shared struggle against gendered oppression could be a foundation for solidarity rather than division?

I am particularly mindful that the inclusion of trans women in certain women-only spaces has evoked feelings of discomfort, fear and rage among some cis women. Loud and clear.

I understand that a concern is that the presence of trans women can trigger hypervigilance in those who have experienced trauma.

My experience is that this triggerment happens no matter the space. Sometimes even the knowledge that I am transitioning elicits reactivity and exclusion, most especially social spaces and networks. Some situate this kind of reactivity as “transphobia”. Labelling, using the verb ‘to be’ is a key component of the problem because it supports othering, which leads to enemy images and reactivity, in all involved. Nevertheless the need to be able to build shared understanding by using language that identifies patterns is tempting, and perhaps even necessary.

The isolating effect of transphobia is real and it has been punishing as a parent to experience. One of the things that brings me hope is that the kids just don’t seem to be transphobic in the same way, many of the youth just get it. Whilst in an NVC support space whilst I was starting to explore my thoughts on beginning to transition, I was offered the judgement, ‘but what about your child’? Which I received as holding some judgements, such as, ‘you will be a bad dad/role model/protector if you transition’. ooof. So before I started to take hormones, I asked my child, as I sometimes still do, and in response my child says to me, ‘you do you’. 💜

TMI I am usually scared to use women’s bathrooms, and sometimes I do.

My understanding is that women’s violence services are designed such that women are kept apart in service of safety and confidentiality. It seems important to not only understand that violence is perhaps as likely to come from husbands and friends as a random trans woman. One women shared her view that given that some men are not abusive the onus is on her to do the work such that she was not triggered by all men.

In passing, one of the problems that situating GV as largely male perpetrated is that this contributes further to mens reluctance to identify or report experiences of GV. Given that hurt people hurt people (acknowledging with care and respect the enormous work that some people that have experienced hurt undertake in service of not perpetrating the cycle), it is imperative that we nurture all people, men most especially to identify, name and share their experiences of hurt in order to work with it.

Many of the concerns of gender critical women are significant and invite compassionate attention. It is crucial to create environments where all women feel safe and supported.

Complexity

The concerns of gender critical women are often framed as incompatible with trans women, as though one negates the other. Feminism and NVC practise opened me to the idea of holding multiple truths. Noting the idea of a 3rd party objective truth being a foundational feature of the dominator culture.

Thus the invitation is to ask, how could I hold at the same time these apparent incompatibility truths, alongside a truth that the same system of patriarchy contributes to the experiences of harm in both cis and trans women?

Some cis women, understandably, view their oppression through the lens of biological essentialism, and their capacity to carry new life and nurse it.

Unfortunately this framing can exclude many, whose oppression is no less real and no less shaped by patriarchy, most especially including trans women. Is it possible that trans women often exist at the sharpest intersection of gendered violence, their existence itself a challenge to the system’s most deeply held norms. And at the same time, carefully listening, because not wanting to behave as like a Karen or a privileged male in expecting trans people to be the loudest voice. But it would be nice to be heard.

A Betrayal of NVC’s Radical Legacy

To witness an NVC practitioner supported by NVC community, taking a trans-inclusive women’s shelter to court, is, to me, a profound betrayal of NVC’s liberatory roots. NVC is meant to dismantle oppression, not to uphold it. Marshall Rosenberg’s vision, inspired by Freire, was of a world where unmet needs could be heard and oppression confronted with compassion and courage. Accepting the limitations of Marshall's own internalised patriarchy, I still wonder what he might think, of NVC being used in a context of situating the complainants competency in a court of law, or having ‘won’ her case, using the media opportunities to offer stats situating men as 90% of GV perpetrators.

And at the same time, if someone is situating their oppression in men and they hold biological essentialist views, and they choose to focus the locus of their attention on framing trans women as men, then it would make total sense.

And I do not enjoy the harm and the trauma that taking a women’s shelter to court contributed, to individuals, groups and the wider discourse most especially in regards to NVC, and about trans people. It is particularly painful, as a trans women to see pages of righteous right wing sharing their outrage that a trans woman ran a women’s shelter. I am grateful to the people that nevertheless end up in my search results, I see you trans men and other allies.

Would Marshall agree that trans inclusion violates cis women’s “needs for safety”?

My guess is that he would not. Marshall’s work emphasises that all needs are valid, and the invitation is to examine the strategies used to meet those needs. Exclusion, while often seen as a strategy for safety, by risking overlooking universal needs for dignity, equity, and mutual respect can result in amplifying disconnection. In this moment I am wondering if this goes some way to explaining the hostility, the empathy deficit between trans people and transphobes. True safety cannot be built on the exclusion of others; it requires collaboration, understanding, and a shared commitment to addressing the root causes of harm.

I recognise the fears that cis women, particularly those who have experienced gendered violence, may carry into these discussions. In some sense women carry millenia of trauma. Their needs for safety, autonomy, and healing are profound and must be honoured. However the framing of trans women as a threat, grounded in gender critical ideologies that often lean on biological essentialism, does not address the root of the harm. Instead, it perpetuates divisions, fuels popularism and redirects attention away from the patriarchal systems that oppress us all.

As a trans woman, I do not dismiss these fears. I want to engage with them authentically and compassionately. I yearn for spaces where I am not reduced to a source of discomfort, where I am not positioned as a problem to be solved. I long for inclusion in spaces so that I can honour and compassionately and authentically engage with these fears. I long for dialogue that moves beyond binary framings of conflict and instead seeks to nurture the shared humanity and mutual struggles against patriarchy that both cis and trans women face.

I am full of mourning that my attempts to build bridges, to engage authentically, to invite inclusion have not been met by either TRA’s or my gender critical peers in ways that meet my needs. It is easy to judge myself naive for trying and shame for contributing in any way to my gender critical peers careers or exposing myself to their microagressions in service of living NVC.

How can we co-create spaces where safety and inclusion are not seen as oppositional but as interdependent needs?

Freire taught that dialogue is never neutral; it is inherently a political act. This resonates deeply with the spirit of Marshall Rosenberg's Nonviolent Communication, which seeks to uncover the needs beneath systems of power and oppression, even if it doesn't explicitly frame dialogue as political.

To reclaim NVC as a tool for nurturing social justice, let’s confront the ways it can be used to maintain power structures and exclusions. It is not enough to seek connection, or to pay lip service to social justice. NVC invites a radical inquiry in service of nurturing equity, authenticity, and a commitment to justice. This is dirty painful, messy work. It is not nice. That is the potential of Marshall’s legacy, and that is what I seek to embody, even in the face of harm and resistance.

What contributes to building the necessary containers that are sufficiently loving and strong to support this work?

Towards Paradigm Parity

One of the most frustrating phrases I hear in these conversations is, “We don’t all have to believe the same thing.” It seems wielded as a shield, a way to deflect accountability or dismiss challenging ideas. It suggests I am making demands and that those demands are impossible and necessarily wanted by me. But what I am really asking for, in addition to authenticity, is not uniformity of belief but paradigm parity, a commitment to treating different voices with equal respect.

In such incidents I wish I might have said something like,

‘I hear that you value diversity of thought and want to ensure that everyone feels free to hold their beliefs. Is that right?”,

“I want to clarify that I’m not asking for us to all believe the same thing. What I’m really longing for is a sense of equity—where my perspective isn’t dismissed as ideology while another is treated as neutral or factual. I’m needing dialogue where different paradigms are treated with equal respect, and where no one feels erased or invalidated. Would you be willing to explore how we can do that together?”

Paradigm parity does not mean collapsing differences or pretending there is no conflict. It means creating a space where trans-affirming perspectives and gender critical beliefs are engaged with equitably, with authenticity, without one being dismissed as “ideology” while the other is treated as neutral or factual. It means taking the opportunity to walk towards conflict and meeting vulnerability by offering your own. It means recognising the power dynamics at play and creating spaces for dialogue that support all voices to be heard.

Please bear in mind that this work to dialogue across the trans debate, may invite an analysis of white supremacy, with all the challenges (and opportunity) that this brings. It is hard work, most especially for those situated in the birth place of the Enlightenment.

Reclaiming NVC as a means to Nurture Social Justice

I still believe in the transformative potential of NVC, it has transformed me, and I wish to contribute back. I believe in its ability to create bridges where there are chasms, to transform microaggressions into moments of shared understanding, and to uncover the unmet needs that drive our deepest fears and divisions. But reclaiming that potential requires courage, the courage to confront the ways we, as practitioners, have work to do. It invites reciprocal authenticity, and the courage to be authentic. It requires remembering that NVC is not just about connection; it is about really asking what nurturing social justice means to each of us.

For me to enter any space and for it not to be authentic in the ways above is less than nurturing. Thus to hold space for that I need to be resourced. I cannot yet do that whilst receiving microaggressions or less inclusion than I would enjoy, and I am working on it.

I yearn for a world—and a community—where I can bring my full self without fear of dismissal or erasure. A world where my authenticity is met with authenticity, my vulnerability with vulnerability, and my humanity with humanity. Until then, I will keep speaking because silence has never been a viable option for me. I am here. I am trans. And I am not going away.

What might support you in sharing vulnerabilities and unmet needs, so we can co-create deeper mutual understanding?

How can we hold each other accountable to a shared commitment to nurturing social justice in our practice?