An open letter from JK Rowling: "I never said I could imagine a world beyond my own"

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear. I have been honest about my thoughts on gender, and seem to always be under scrutiny for saying things like, “When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman — and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones — then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.”

I understand that my fans are hurting because of my words and that I “should” be more open-minded, but I do not believe I ever gave anyone reason to believe that I would dare to conceptualize a world other than my own. To believe in something that I have not personally experienced would run counter to everything I stand for, and everything I have written about. I am a truth teller. End of story.

Furthermore, when people say they are a gender that I disagree with, it disrespects people like me who don’t understand it and I do not have to tolerate it. It’s also disrespectful and dangerous for people to criticize me for sharing my views—whatever wild ideas and views you may have, you cannot force me to agree with them. The Ink of the Black Heart, a true story by Robert Galbraith, paints a moving portrait of a woman murdered for her “intolerance.” I live in fear every day that the same fate will befall me. This is a fear of violence only a cis woman could experience, based on data I collected in my thoughts.

A more expansive perception of gender denies the inherent monolith of womanhood. Margaret Thatcher, Malala, Shirley Temple, Me. That is essentially a one-person list, and it’s already too much. A woman is nothing more than her body—specifically her vagina and uterus (I say that as a feminist). It’s why women are so unremarkable—“woman” shouldn’t even exist in a plural form; put fifty in a room, you might as well have one. If we start saying a woman is more than her body, think of how many conversations and questions will follow. More than I want to (try to) understand.

I know that people may have different ideas about gender, but for me, the human body is the ultimate ‘sorting hat’—it cannot be wrong. We cannot afford to get bogged down in identity or lived experiences. Biology is not open to interpretation. It is a truth, and I stand by it.

Queer fans have lamented that Harry Potter, once a refuge for them, now feels exclusionary—some have even removed their Deathly Hallows tattoos. When I heard this, I felt something inside me splinter; it was a wake-up call. I never intended for my books to be seen as queer-friendly, and I’m sorry that they’ve been misinterpreted in that way. As an author, you can never predict how your work will be received, but the reaction to my works is a painful reminder of how easily meaning can be distorted.

I recently researched how people describe Harry Potter, and kept finding articles about tolerance and acceptance, finding strength in weakness, and daring to be unique. I don’t know where these ideas are coming from. The books were nonfictional accounts rooted in biological essentialism that I now worry people read as fictitious stories. When I set out to write Harry Potter, I saw it as a fact-finding mission, a daring and noble exposé of the obscured underbelly of dark magic in the world. The public had been ignoring the tense Muggle-Wizard political dynamic, the way people were turning into animals, and stairs that move (not StairMaster’s). The books were radical explorations of facts; there were no hidden messages, themes, or harbingers of loving kindness. Let me be clear: I am a journalist, not a novelist. Everything in those books actually happened.

My views on gender are not rooted in hatred of anyone; they come from a commitment to scientific method. Having studied biology extensively, including research on plants like Mandrakes and Gillyweed that most scientists overlook, I trust my own findings over the “science” of those who argue that gender is a social construct. So called “scientists” dismissed my work as fantastical theory; I wouldn’t even believe them if they said they could prove bread. Truthfully, science can be whatever you want it to be. It’s not an exact science.

I can only respect what I have seen. When I saw Harry “Wizard Boy” Potter’s arm turn to jelly, I knew bones could go poof. When I saw a hat tell someone they were a born Hufflepuff, I realized how powerful legilimency could be. When I saw Voldemort, I knew definitively that Ed Sheeran was still the palest British man. When I bore witness (something my gender allows) to these things, I felt them deeply. I learned from them.

I concede there are examples of people defying gender norms who seem happy and fulfilled and true to themselves, but there’s no way for me to verify that. If I could, I would accept that gender experiences outside my own exist. But if ifs and ands were selective feminism and skepticism, there'd be no work for my hands. No one has ever been able to visually show what gender is outside of genitalia, and I certainly can’t ‘wiggle’ someone like Harry’s arm and see whether they’re flexible or fluid. I can’t be expected to use my imagination or heart to understand what isn’t obvious to me.

The “woke” perception of gender is too novel to accept at face value. For me, gender can only be accepted at pants value. Gender fluidity and subversion are trends that have existed only since ancient times, and it’s hard for someone grounded in scientific tradition to adapt to such rapid shifts in thinking. Maybe if I was one of those “dreamers” or “creatives,” but I’m not, and I never claimed to be.

Biologically,

J.K. Rowling/Robert Galbraith