When the magic hurts

I want to start here: I know Harry Potter meant something to you.

Maybe it was the first series that made you feel like you belonged in a world of wonder. Maybe you waited for your Hogwarts letter. Maybe the friends you made in that world helped you survive school, loneliness, bullying, grief. Maybe those characters feel stitched into your life so deeply that the idea of letting go feels like losing part of yourself.

I understand that.

But I need you to understand something too: For many of us who are trans, this is not about disliking an author’s opinion. It’s about the ongoing harm of a powerful woman actively using her platform, wealth, and influence to make life harder and more dangerous for people like us.

This isn’t a disagreement. It’s a wound.

And I am so tired of losing people I care about to their nostalgia.

This is not a case of “well, she just said something once that people didn’t like.”

There is a documented, escalating timeline of statements, mockery, political interference, funding of anti-trans legal efforts, and gloating over decisions that strip trans people – especially trans women – of legal protections.

As Dillon put it so well: “They think it’s a difference of opinion but it’s not. The opinion is bad enough when she has the name and reach to be listened to by so many, but it’s the fact that she uses her money -and gleefully so – to go against trans people. That’s what makes her someone we fear.”

JK didn’t misspeak. She doubled down. Then tripled down. Then built an army.

She actively funds organisations and legal challenges aimed at restricting our rights.
She frames trans women as dangers to society.
She positions trans men as confused girls who have been manipulated.
She celebrates when courts or governments rule against our recognition or safety.

And she does it all with a sense of triumph, telling her followers she will “never give in”.

When people continue to financially support her brands – including Harry Potter merch, new releases, spin-offs, the game, the theatre show – it doesn’t exist in a moral vacuum. The money travels straight back into that pipeline of harm.

This is not about opinions. This is about impact.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard: “Can’t you just separate the art from the artist?”, or, “I love Harry Potter, but that doesn’t mean I support her.”

I get why people say it. It’s a way to keep something comforting without feeling complicit in harm.

But here’s the truth I need you to sit with gently, even if it’s uncomfortable:

• JK Rowling is still alive.
• She is still actively engaged in this franchise
• She still profits from every new stream, purchase, and engagement.
• She has openly said she will continue to use her platform and money to “fight gender ideology” – that means us.

So every “I just love the story” is tied, even indirectly, to funding the harm she causes. This isn’t like listening to a dead composer who had awful views in their time. This is feeding an active machine.

When allies say, “I can enjoy it without agreeing with her,” what many trans people actually hear is:

• “My comfort matters more than your safety.”
• “Your pain is an acceptable price for my nostalgia.”
• “I don’t see her actions as serious enough to change my behaviour.”

And that hurts – deeply. Not because we want to police your taste, but because your actions tell us where we sit in your hierarchy of care.

When someone close to us continues to publicly love Harry Potter, quote it, buy new merch, see the latest film adaptation, or hype the latest game, we feel a shift in trust – even if we never say it out loud.

You might not mean, “I’m okay with what she’s doing,” but it’s hard for us not to feel: “I’m not harmed enough for you to stop.”

What begins as discomfort turns into fear:

• If you can overlook her harm, what other harm would you overlook?
• If someone laughed at a transphobic joke at work, would you speak up?
• If I told you I was scared about legislation being passed, would you tell me I’m overreacting?
• If I told you your favourite franchise is triggering for me, would you get defensive and start to treat me differently?

Trans people often lose family, friends, jobs, housing, safety. We are constantly evaluating who is safe. Every ally is someone we want to trust – but when you keep holding tight to something that hurts us, it makes us step back for emotional self-protection.

We don’t distance ourselves because we hate you. We distance ourselves because we’re scared you don’t fully see us as people worth fighting for.

I know some people feel attacked when this conversation comes up, like we’re demanding they burn their books and deny their childhoods.

But we’re not asking you to rewrite your past: We’re asking you to choose us in the present.

• You can acknowledge that Harry Potter shaped your youth and also agree not to give more money or promotion to it now.
• You can look back with complicated nostalgia – holding both comfort and disappointment together.
• You can shift from active consumption to quiet memory.
• You can choose fan-created universes or entirely new stories that offer the magic without the pain.
• At very least, you can avoid talking about it in our presence, knowing the harm in causes.

This isn’t about punishing you. It’s about hoping you’ll say, “I care about you more than I care about rewatching a wizard movie.”

We are living in a time where trans lives are debated more than they are protected. Legislation is tightening. Hate crimes are increasing. Healthcare is being restricted. Media platforms are flooded with disinformation about us.

When we tell you Rowling’s influence empowers this – we’re not being dramatic.

She is not just an author. She has become a symbol, a rallying point, a weaponised presence in anti-trans circles.

And so every time someone says, “I support trans people, but…” and continues to uplift her work, it erodes trust that they truly understand what we’re up against.

We need you not just to declare allyship, but to act from it.

Sometimes that action looks like letting go.

I’m tired. Many of us are.

Tired of explaining.
Tired of hoping people will care enough.
Tired of that sinking feeling every time someone says, “Don’t worry, I don’t support her, I just love the books.”

Because every time, I quietly wait for them to prove whether that love is stronger than their care for us – or the other way around.

So again, I’m asking this with a tired and emotional heart:

• Please choose real people over fictional worlds.
• Please choose our safety over your nostalgia.
• Please choose living community over a dead certainty that magic can exist only in one place.

And if you truly love what the world of Harry Potter gave you – the feeling of found family, belonging, and hope in darkness – then live those values now.