The Power Roots: Nottinghamshire Grit and Ghosts

I come from a place where men drank pride like water. Nottinghamshire mining towns don’t raise philosophers—they raise fighters. My dad swung a shovel until his hands split like overripe fruit. My uncles, in their camaraderie, traded stories at the pub like they were wartime medals: “Three shifts down pit, five pints, still standing.” Masculinity here wasn’t something you were; it was something you proved, a suit of armour, rusted shut. 

Now? I’m a husband, a dad, and a trainee therapist. And that armour’s killing me. 

The Court Ruling: Bureaucracy Over Breath

When the Supreme Court ruled that trans women aren’t legally women, it felt like a personal blow. Not because I’m a seasoned activist, but because I understand the feeling of being suffocated by societal norms. 

The Gender Recognition Act (2004) is a piece of legislation that requires trans individuals to go through a series of medical procedures to ‘prove’ their gender identity. This process is often compared to a bureaucratic checklist, which I find dehumanising. In my previous life as a firefighter, rules were necessary for survival. But we can’t be reduced to a set of checkboxes when it comes to humanity. I’ve rescued children from burning buildings. Do you think they were concerned about paperwork? 

My upbringing in a mining town instilled in me the value of resilience and perseverance. ‘Get on with it,’ they would say. But as a decorator, I’ve learned that even the strongest walls must be sanded before they can hold new paint. This Supreme Court ruling? It’s like a sledgehammer, threatening to destroy the progress we’ve made in recognising and respecting trans rights. 

Fatherhood: Chiselling New Bones

I want my kids to breathe freer than I did. But try telling that to my family.

 My family sneered at the Sunday roast last month when I mentioned pronouns: “Since when did you turn woke? Like curiosity is betrayal. Just wanting my daughters & son never to feel caged makes me soft.

 But firefighting taught me this: real strength isn’t refusing to bend. It’s knowing when to listen. I’ve stood in burning rooms and learned to read smoke like a language. Now, as a therapist, I’m learning to read pain.

Trans women are women. Nonbinary identities aren’t a trend—they’re the truth. Legal recognition isn’t “special treatment.” It’s the fucking oxygen mask we’re hoarding. 

Clash: Pub Banter vs. Quiet Revolutions

At the pub, my mates call trans kids “snowflakes” between pints. I sip my ale and think of the 20-year-old client who tried to die because their dad called them “it.” 

In my town, loyalty was everything. But loyalty to what? A system that sold our mines, broke our backs, and then told us to blame immigrants? Trans people aren’t privatising the NHS. They aren’t hiking rents. They’re just trying to live. 

Labour’s Betrayal: Ghosts of the Pits

Labour, once the voice of the people, seems to have lost its way. In his pursuit of Tory voters, Keir Starmer has seemingly forgotten the very foundation on which this party was built. It’s a betrayal that we, the people, cannot ignore. 

Thatcher may have closed our pits, but Starmer seems to have closed his eyes to the pressing issues at hand. While he debates trans rights, the proliferation of food banks and the monstrous rent crisis are swallowing our communities whole. The NHS, a symbol of our collective care, is now marred by endless queues. 

But sure, let’s blame trans people. Classic magician’s trick: watch the hand, ignore the crumbling house. 

My Dad marched for miners’ rights. Those strikes weren’t just about coal; they were also about respect. The fight for trans rights is no different. Solidarity isn’t a buffet. You can’t pick and choose. You don’t get to leave LGBTQ+ out in the cold. We must stand together, united in our fight for justice. 

To My Friends & Family. I’m Still Here. This isn’t a lecture. It’s a confession. 

I’m still the lad with the darkest sense of humour. Who can fix anything with a big hammer and screwdriver, build a house & swear every other word? But I’m also the dad who cried when his son asked, “Can boys wear dresses?”

Growth isn’t betrayal. It’s survival. 

So here’s my ask: Let’s build a table big enough for all of us: miners, firefighters, trans kids & the whole LGBTQ+ community. Your presence is not just welcomed, it’s crucial.Let’s stop blaming mirrors for the cracks in the walls. 

Justice isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon. And I’ll be fucked if I let my kids run it alone. 

P.S. If this pisses you off, good. Let’s talk. I’ll buy the first round.