Today is my ‘Cancelliversary’.
One year ago today, I published a short video saying I didn’t like the phrase “pregnant people.”
I knew it would annoy some people.
I did not expect it to detonate my life.
Within days I was labelled a bigot, Nazi, Far Right, transphobic, homophobic. Cancellation campaigns gathered pace. A 28-minute podcast was recorded about me* - which I believe was defamatory - and widely shared.
What followed was a well-worn path for women who publicly defend their sex-based rights.
Clients withdrew. Speaking invitations evaporated. Contracts dissolved. Long-standing professional relationships ended. Conversations with lawyers began. Rooms I had once been welcomed into quietly closed.
There was trolling from activists and their allies. An anonymous “gift” arrived in the post. Police reports were filed.
My 13,000-follower Instagram account, was later removed after repeated (and I believe unfounded) copyright complaints - for sharing clips of unpleasant comments made about me. This account - built over 8+ years - was a key sales channel for my marketing consultancy and digital education products business.
In the middle of all this, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and started treatment. And while health is wealth, bills must still be paid. It was another devastating financial blow.
So twelve months on, what have I learned?
I could reach for the cliché: you find out who your real friends are.
And of course you do.
But what I learned was more unsettling than that.
Cancellation doesn’t require widespread malice. It requires incentives - and a culture that rewards withdrawal over courage.
It only takes a handful of committed ideologues to ignite a cancellation campaign. What gives it force is everyone else: those who join the attacks and those who quietly step back.
A former friend messaged to say she was “concerned” about my mental health. Not because I was spiralling. Not because I was incoherent. But because I refused to retract a view about the reality of biological sex. And when disagreement is recast as instability, the debate is over before it begins.
Someone I’d paid reliably for years withdrew their freelance services. I gather my “intolerable views” are the reason. But they never told me directly. Not in person. Not in writing. The distance did the talking.
Abusive messages landed in my inbox from someone who provides paid services to a family member. Not a stranger on the internet - someone connected to my real life.
There are other examples I won’t share here. Some things are too personal - and too painful. And despite everything, I still believe in loyalty - even when it hasn’t been extended to me.
What surprised me most wasn’t the aggression. That was predictable.
It was the suggestibility.
How quickly intelligent, thoughtful people can absorb and repeat a dominant narrative once it becomes socially necessary.
In this case - the idea that human beings can change sex. And that calling yourself a woman means you are one.
How rapidly doubt becomes silence.
And how easily language shifts when the cost of objecting rises.
I’ve learned you don’t need mass conviction to transform a culture.
You just need fear.
Do I regret speaking up?
No.
Not because it was easy. It wasn’t. It still isn’t.
Not because it was cost-free. It wasn’t.
But because I believe women exist. And I believe language matters.
Once you’ve been publicly targeted for defending women’s sex-based rights, you don’t return to your old life.
My business - as I knew it - is over.
Starting again at 51 isn’t easy. But it is necessary. I’m still working out what that next chapter looks like.
One unexpected consequence has been a return - at least in part - to my former career of journalism.
Perhaps that isn’t so surprising. When your life is upended for saying something you believe to be true, it makes sense to return to a profession built on truth-seeking.
Some doors have closed permanently. That is simply reality.
But I would rather lose rooms than lose my footing.
One year on, I know exactly where I stand.
And I am still standing.
*I wasn’t named in this podcast but was identified as the subject by multiple sources
Earlier this month I ran an anonymous survey: Fear, Cancellation & Work which aimed to explore whether concerns about cancellation or reputational fallout are shaping professional life.
More than 600 people responded - employees, business owners and freelancers across many sectors.
I’m currently analysing the data and turning it into a structured report. A few early findings stand out:
• Over 95% say they have avoided expressing a view at work because they feared negative consequences
• Nearly half say fear has influenced what they say publicly - including on social media
Alongside the stats are hundreds of personal accounts. For example:
“Coworkers actively discuss how they would report colleagues who disagree with certain political opinions.”
“I have a family to support and can’t risk losing my job by saying how I really feel. It’s terrifying.”
“I always make sure I agree with whatever the ‘right think’ answer is. It’s easier and safer to keep quiet and pretend.”
I’ll be publishing a report with the full findings in the next week or so.
If you’d like to read the report when it’s ready, click the button below.
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.