(Photo: Holly Revell)

In my family we have this running joke whenever the weather gets above 16 degrees to prepare our eyes for the countless men with their T-shirts off in the street, beer cans in hand, and (due to the World Cup at the moment) probably cheering an England chant that I’ve only heard in recurring nightmares.

It is true, when England gets any small rise in heat, it seems the world stops. Ice cream vans reappear, tube announcements tell us to take care in the heat, and colour suddenly dawns upon usually monochromatic London sidewalks.

Yet, in all of this, I notice I also start to harbour even more anxious thoughts before leaving the house. More questions and worries begin to surface. Can I wear this? Could I wear this? Am I going to be safe in this?

Winter allows me to layer, chop and change, cover up and reveal in order to mask myself from unwanted attention.

As a queer, gender nonconforming trans person the heat brings challenges as often clothing (or the lack of it) increases the danger and proximity to abuse on the street.

In the winter, I sometimes relish in the ability to layer up. Knowing I can cover the black body-con dress I am wearing with a long winter coat or jumper, only to reveal its glory once I am in a safer environment. ‘Covering up’ is a tactic I was taught by trans elders that came before me; they would sit me down in the colder months and say, ‘sure, wear this, but put this on top until you get off the streets.’

Winter allows me to layer, chop and change, cover up and reveal in order to mask myself from unwanted attention. It doesn’t always have an 100% success rate but it definitely creates more ways to hide.

With summer out, the need to cool off rises; bodies become less hidden and more visible and more skin is on show. In some bodies this is celebrated, in others it is punished. The world labels me as ‘male’ yet sees me in short shorts, a crop top and sunglasses, and punishes me for it on the street.

My attempt to keep cool in the heat is met with shouts of ‘f*gg*t’ and ‘freak’. Stares on the tube are directed at me for my outfit choices. I watch a group of grown men take a photo of me whilst asking why I’m wearing such ‘gay shorts’ and I wonder how masculinity and gender became such a fragile concept that it cannot handle a pair of H&M shorts cut at a certain length?

A new uniform for gender and bodies gets rolled out in the summer and the heat. We are labelling you as ‘this’ (read: male) so you must wear this. We punish people who exist outside of our expectations of gender, size and ability – and the summer and heat brings further attention to this.

Certain people can wear a crop top and shorts and walk silently through the streets but others place the same clothes on their body and question whether going outside will be safe.

I am thinking of the bus I was on yesterday with a group of school kids. There were two women wearing short summer dresses: one was small framed and receiving no disapproving looks, the other around a size 18 was getting stares, giggles and even a photo taken of them. Two people wanting to naturally stay cool in the heat, one being punished for it.

As I am about to go outside in some outrageously colourful short shorts, and an even brighter crop-top, showing my hairy midriff, I prepare for the unwanted attention this may bring. I think about how it is not just trans and queer bodies that edits themselves outside but how, also, with the heat there are other people that may be having these fears and new anxieties.

Women, especially those that may be fat or darker skinned, face an increased amount of policing outside in this weather. They receive unwanted stares, shouts and looks. I think about my friend who has visible scars on her legs, who routinely fears how people will react to them showing in the sun.

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I think about how the heat brings anxiety for people with so many different types of bodies — bodies that are othered — and how sad it is that we live in a society that judges bodies as broken and damaged, instead of celebrating the positivity in how they appear.

I pause as I’m about to go outside and wish for streets that are safer for us and a future that eventually has the public celebrating difference and beauty within it, rather than punishing us for existing.

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