Sara Ahmed exposes a disturbing narrative strategy: the claim that biological sex has been "stolen" is not a neutral data concern, but a political fantasy used to mask hostility toward trans and queer people. By dissecting recent UK reviews and academic arguments, Ahmed reveals how the language of "policy capture" and "lost control" is being weaponized to stigmatize equality work as a sinister conspiracy rather than a human rights necessity.
The Fantasy of Stolen Control
Ahmed begins by acknowledging the excitement surrounding the re-release of Andrea Dworkin's work, which historically challenged the idea of two discrete biological sexes. However, she quickly pivots to critique the modern "gender critical" movement for ignoring this rich feminist history. "Having evidence is not sufficient," Ahmed writes, noting that the argument that feminism depends on accepting biological sex as a "given" serves a specific function: to present critiques of sex as foreign to feminism. This framing is effective because it shifts the debate from scientific accuracy to political loyalty, forcing a choice between "feminism" and "trans rights" that never actually existed in the movement's history.
The author draws a sharp parallel between this rhetoric and the Brexit campaign, describing the movement as "feminism's Brexiteers." She argues that just as Brexit was premised on a "fantasy of a past when we had control," the current campaign relies on the story that "sex... has been stolen!" This comparison lands with force because it highlights the emotional mechanics of the argument: the creation of a threat to justify reclaiming lost power. "Brexit was another best-selling story of stolen identities. Another disaster," Ahmed observes, warning that this narrative has already cost society "a very high price for way too many lies with the loss of way too many freedoms."
The story of stolen sex is how hostility toward trans and queer people is masked by the very form in which it is enacted.
The Rhetoric of "Policy Capture"
Ahmed turns her scrutiny to the Sullivan Review and the work of Alice Sullivan, analyzing how academic language is repurposed to stoke fear. She points out that Sullivan's claim that "they are coming for our questionnaires" is not a dry scientific observation but an "emotive and inflammatory" moment where "the mask comes off." By framing postmodernists and trans activists as "bogey men from your nightmares," the argument conveniently sidesteps the internal feminist tradition of critiquing how surveys are never neutral devices.
The commentary highlights the misuse of the term "policy capture," which Sullivan borrows to describe meetings between "genderist" organizations and policymakers. Ahmed dismantles this by noting that "any equality campaigns that push for the development of new policies and practices can be called 'policy capture.'" This is a crucial distinction: the term is being used to stigmatize the work of minority groups fighting for dignity, framing their advocacy as a corrupt takeover rather than a necessary redress of historic exclusion. Critics might argue that legitimate concerns about data integrity exist, but Ahmed effectively counters that the evidence provided is anecdotal and driven by a pre-determined conclusion.
The Invention of a Binary Past
The piece further deconstructs the historical accuracy of the "gender critical" position by citing Kevin Guyan, who notes that the review is "premised on an invented past: the belief that – once upon a time – a clear, stable concept of sex existed that everyone agreed on." Ahmed agrees, pointing out that the steep decline in surveys asking about "sex" is not a loss of data, but a reflection of changing language and social values. "The mistake of equating 'terminology' with 'concept' is a rookie historical error," she paraphrases Guyan's insight, illustrating that language evolves without erasing the people it describes.
Ahmed reminds readers that feminism itself was crucial to problematizing sex and creating the vocabulary for self-description. "That story of more gets in the way of a story that sells, of what has been taken away, not added, but subtracted," she writes. This observation cuts to the heart of the conflict: the narrative of loss is politically useful, even if it is factually hollow. The claim that a binary model of sex is the "common sense" default ignores the history of how we became "used to something," mistaking a specific historical moment for natural law.
Common sense can be a history of how we become used to something, which is why claiming sex is common sense is to make a point about history not nature.
Bottom Line
Ahmed's strongest contribution is exposing the emotional and political machinery behind the "stolen sex" narrative, revealing it as a tool to exclude trans people rather than a genuine scientific inquiry. The argument's greatest vulnerability lies in its reliance on a romanticized, historically inaccurate view of the past, yet its power comes from how effectively it weaponizes the language of data and control to silence dissent. Readers should watch for how this rhetoric of "policy capture" continues to be deployed to block equality measures under the guise of protecting objective reality.