Subject: Standing at the UN: A Personal Note from CSW69

From	Anna Derbyshire <[email protected]>
Subject	Standing at the UN: A Personal Note from CSW69
Date	March 23, 2025 12:39 PM

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Dear John,

I woke up this morning with absolute clarity—I am the most marginalized and least heard voice at the United Nations. I am a Christian feminist. I believe in biology—male and female. I believe every human life has value, no matter how small, how aged, or how inconvenient. I am a mother of ten—including seven daughters—and a grandmother of ten more girls. I believe in their future. I have lived the strength of womanhood. I earned my degree with a toddler on one hip and twins on the other. I never considered abortion—I considered responsibility, love, sacrifice, and the deep-rooted power of motherhood. And yet, in a room meant to champion women’s rights, my voice was not just unwelcome—it was shut down and then celebrated for being silenced. The panel was titled: “Feminist Movements and the Beijing Vision: 30 Years Later.” I asked a direct, respectful, data-driven question: “Over the last 30 years, there's been roughly an 850% increase in biological males identifying as transgender women. The more aggressively these biological males have been embraced under the umbrella of 'marginalized women,' the more vulnerable, disabled, and disadvantaged biological women are pushed aside—leading to scarce resources, spaces, advocacy efforts, and critical decision-making power shifting back into male hands. What concrete steps can feminist movements take to prevent unintentionally handing women’s hard-earned resources and authority back to biological men under the guise of inclusivity and instead ensure their mission remains dedicated to uplifting genuinely marginalized biological women?” The moderator responded—not with engagement, not even with disagreement—but with dismissal: “Thank you for your question. I will just let you know that when I was invited to moderate this session, I was told that we understood women expansively. So feel free to grab books afterward if you wish to, but I will not ask the panel to answer that question because our definition within the context of this event is that it is a broad umbrella. There was a time when Black women were not considered women. There was a time when women without land were not considered women. So there is contestation for what the definition of womanhood is, and we should have that conversation together rather than oppositional, as we have heard. So, the definition is broad. In this conversation, we need to understand that too.” But the applause that followed—that wasn’t polite. That was the applause of ideological conformity. It was the sound of women cheering the silencing of another woman who dared to speak reality aloud. It was "sit down and shut up" applause. You can watch the video my colleague posted on X <a href= "[link removed]" target="_blank" id="" >here.</a> <a href= "[link removed]" target="_blank" ><img src="[link removed] 2025-03-21 11.36.12 PM.png?version=0" alt="" width="350" height="200" constrain="true" imagepreview="false" border="" /></a> My face is literally hot as I relive and retell what I experienced. As the moments in that room grow more distant, they become more poignant. The clapping is louder now than it was in the room, not because I am suffering but because I know where this leads. I know the stage that has been set—and it ends in tragedy. The script is already written in the blood and tears of generations of women destroyed by toxic, manipulative, gaslighting men. They call it “toxic masculinity,” but they never name the real threat: toxic, perverse men—now draped in lipstick and legal protections—re-entering women’s spaces, even at the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women. And feminist leaders are cheering them in. Even the deaf women in the room weren’t permitted to hear my question. The interpreter stopped signing when I began to speak. The erasure was not subtle. It was absolute. I expected the panel to push back on my premise. I expected a challenge. But I also expected some acknowledgment—some assurance—that disabled and disadvantaged women would not be supplanted by a new elite class of "marginalized women." I thought someone might say, “Of course, we still prioritize women with real biological vulnerabilities.” But they didn’t. They confirmed the opposite. They confirmed that in the next 30 years, they will gladly embrace the exchange of women for men—so long as those men call themselves women. This is not inclusion. This is not compassion. This is a hostile takeover of womanhood—and it is being orchestrated by the very institutions created to protect us. I am not anti-anyone. I am not afraid of hard conversations. But I will not pretend that erasing sex is harmless. I will not let our daughters walk into a future where the word “woman” means nothing—where our needs, our spaces, our resources are handed over to men with surgically altered bodies and state-sanctioned delusions. If they can’t define what a woman is, they cannot defend women’s rights. And if they celebrate our silence, they were never defending us at all. Thank you for listening—truly. When others refused to hear me, you did. And honestly... I feel better having said it. But I know I cannot be alone. Maybe you’ve felt it too—silenced, sidelined, or shamed for speaking the truth. Maybe you’ve watched it happen to someone else. Maybe you’ve carried your own story in silence for too long. Have you experienced this? Have you been pushed aside for holding the line on what it means to be a woman? Tell me your story. I’m listening—and I believe it’s time the world listens too. Because what happens at the United Nations doesn’t stay in New York. It reaches into our policies, our schools, our language, and our laws. It is already shaping the conversations in our neighborhoods, our churches, and our children’s classrooms. The redefinition of womanhood is not just happening on global stages—it’s happening in our homes. That’s why I'm asking you to share your story. Because I know this isn’t just my experience. Have you seen it in your community? In your daughter’s school? In your workplace or house of worship? Have you felt the pressure to stay silent—or watched others be punished for telling the truth? Tell me your story. Let’s name what’s happening. Let’s expose it—before there’s nothing left to protect. The Commission on the Status of Women may have forgotten who it was built to defend. But I haven’t. And I know you haven’t either. 
Standing Strong and Not Alone,
Anna Derbyshire

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