How the trans Taliban tried to silence my choir

I sang to thousands of runners yesterday at the London Marathon with my choir, which specialises in performing at running events. It’s the third year we’ve performed at the London Marathon, and I was excited to do it again. There’s nothing more joyful than supporting ordinary people to do extraordinary things – like running 26.2 miles to raise money for charity. I should know. I’ve run four London Marathons myself, raising thousands of pounds for charities including the Miscarriage Association, the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust and Bliss, the premature-baby charity.

Yesterday, however, that joy was tinged with sadness. Although we did perform in the end, at Mile 15 in Limehouse, we had been due to perform at Mile 3 in Woolwich as part of disability charity Scope’s ‘cheer team’. But Scope had written to me just days earlier to say it no longer wanted us to take part.

The reason? I don’t believe human beings can change sex and have said so publicly. Apparently, I had communicated this fact – which is, after all, biological reality – in a way that made people feel ‘alienated’.

While Scope reversed the decision the night before the marathon, by then, all but one of our regular singers – who had been excited to take part – had decided not to. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Even Scope’s CEO accepted that in a call on Thursday afternoon, after I had written to him asking for the decision to be reconsidered, acknowledging we had done nothing beyond singing and encouraging runners over the past two years. But he wouldn’t budge.

Bizarrely, he insisted my presence in the choir was a ‘distraction’, without explaining what that meant. Was he expecting me to shout ‘transwomen are men’ mid-song? Drape myself in a Suffragette flag? Bring an anti-trans banner? He couldn’t give a straight answer.

When I told the choir, they were understandably concerned – not just about the decision, but also what it might mean for them. Would they be hauled into their boss’s office on Monday morning? Would their association with me make them ‘problematic’?

They were also worried about potential trouble from trans activists. I had never discussed the harassment I’ve been subjected to over the past 18 months. This was a choir built around music, not politics, and I genuinely had no idea what their views were. In a painful Zoom call on Saturday, I shared – for the first time – how trans activists had destroyed my digital-marketing business, alongside family relationships and friendships, all while I was undergoing breast-cancer treatment. And now, they had come for my choir, too. As one choir member put it: ‘They don’t care about us. They just want to destroy you. We’re just collateral damage.’

I’ve worked hard to make the choir inclusive. No auditions, no sheet music, just well-known pop songs, so people don’t need to commit to endless rehearsals. It’s also free. No one who identifies as trans has volunteered to sing with us – but they would be welcome, as long as they follow the law. A standard I would apply to anyone.

On Saturday evening, I received a personal email from the Scope CEO restoring our invitation to sing at the marathon. Had that come after our earlier conversation, I likely would have accepted – and may never have told the choir. But it didn’t.

By then, Scope had already published a public statement on its decision to reinvite us. In it, the charity acknowledged that my gender-critical beliefs are lawful and separate from the choir, while also describing them as ‘highly polarising’ and potentially ‘deeply upsetting and alienating’.

So on Saturday evening, I put out a call on X, pulled together a new group, and we found our own spot at Mile 15, singing our hearts out. I’m smiling in the photos and videos. There was real joy. But it wasn’t the same. Because most of the people who should have been there weren’t. They weren’t just choir members – they were friends. Friends who may not understand why it mattered so much for me to sing yesterday – or why they’ve been caught up in my troubles.

There’s a reason I mentioned the charities I’ve supported through running the London Marathon. They all support women facing issues that only affect women: miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy and premature birth. Given my own experience of women’s health issues, being excluded from singing at a marathon for stating what a biological woman is isn’t simply wrong – it’s absurd. And these are not just my troubles. They are all of our troubles.

As a friend said when this all began: ‘Oh my God – they’re literally silencing a choir.’ And you can’t get much more authoritarian than stopping women from singing for holding the ‘wrong’ views.

We know where this can lead. Under the Taliban’s strict ‘vice and virtue’ laws enforced since August 2024, Afghan women can now be restricted from singing in public.

Unfortunately for the trans activists – and anyone who thinks like this – they picked the wrong woman to try to silence. Because I intend to keep on singing.

Janet Murray is a journalist writing on women, culture and public policy. Follow her on X: @jan_murray.