Little Red Radical Terf

A short story by John Oliver's gender-affirming staff

Once upon a time, a perfectly innocent trans grandmother was living her best life in the woods when she encountered a terrible transphobe who was feared by all the forest creatures.

This terrible transphobe was known as Little Red Radical Terf. The forest creatures called her that because she was always red in the face about something, and because she wore a hooded cloak to conceal her ugly face, which was contorted by her hatred of anyone different.

The perfectly innocent trans grandmother tried to be polite. “Good day,” she said with a tilt of her head.

But Little Red Radical Terf, the terrible transphobe, deadnamed and misspeciesed the poor trans grandmother. “Oh, hello Mr. Wolf,” she said, causing all the forest creatures to gasp in collective horror.

The perfectly innocent trans grandmother felt terrible, for she had been invalidated. Fearful for her very existence, she tried to change the subject. “So, um, what’s in the basket?” she asked Little Red Radical Terf.

“I have cake, wine, some fruit, and cheese for my grandmother,” Little Red replied. “She’s getting over a cold, so mom and dad wanted me to bring her some tasty snacks.”

“What a delicious idea,” remarked the perfectly innocent trans grandmother politely, just like any other grandmother, because trans grandmothers are grandmothers.

“I don’t think you’d like it,” Little Red remarked. “It’s human food. Well, good day, Mr. Wolf, I must be going now.” Then Little Red Radical Terf departed with a dismissive little curtsy.

Now the perfectly innocent trans grandmother perked up. “The nerve of that bitch,” she growled. There was no doubt in her mind that Little Red and the woodsman must have been talking about her. “I’ll show them.”

So the perfectly innocent trans grandmother took a shortcut through the brambles and thickets of the deep forest, a way that no human child could go, to report the incident to Little Red’s grandmother before she got there.

“Do you know what your granddaughter just did?” the perfectly innocent trans grandmother asked Little Red Radical Terf’s grandmother, huffing a bit from running.

It was hard for the perfectly innocent trans grandmother to even look at Little Red’s grandmother because the family resemblance was so strong. She was at least twice as ugly and horrible and contemptible as the granddaughter!

“What, did she tell you to buzz off, Mr. Wolf?” Little Red’s grandmother replied. “Because I was going to say the same thing.”

The perfectly innocent trans grandmother was triggered. She had expected the old lady to understand, for she was part of the grandmotherly sisterhood, wasn’t she?

“I am a perfectly innocent grandmother,” said the perfectly innocent trans grandmother. “Just like you.”

“You’re nothing like me,” said Little Red’s grandmother. “Go away.”

It seemed the whole family was a bunch of terrible transphobes. The woods were not safe as long as they were free to hate. “This is exclusionary hate speech,” cried the perfectly innocent trans grandmother.

And then she ate Little Red’s grandmother, who clearly deserved it, so as to prevent a trans genocide of the entire forest. And then every creature in the woods applauded.

By the time Little Red Radical Terf arrived at her grandmother’s house in the woods, the perfectly innocent trans grandmother was entirely dressed in clothing from the wardrobe.

Admiring herself in the mirror, the perfectly innocent trans grandmother thought: “Surely Little Red won’t even recognize me in her grandmother’s clothing. I’ll teach that girl a lesson about inclusivity that she won’t forget!”

Hearing Little Red Radical Terf knock at the door, the perfectly innocent trans grandmother slipped into the bed. Then she called out weakly, in her most feminine, non-wolfy voice: “Come in, dearie!”

Little Red Radical Terf entered the house. “Hello grandma,” she sang out. But then she hesitated in the open doorway.

“Come inside, dearie,” croaked the perfectly innocent trans grandmother. She had the bedclothes pulled up to her face. “I feel so lonesome when I’m sick.”

Little Red Radical Terf took a step inside. She seemed uncertain.

“Close the door, dearie,” croaked the perfectly innocent trans grandmother. “You’re letting in the draft, I’ll die of the chill.”

Little Red Radical Terf closed the door. She seemed uncertain.

“Come closer, dearie,” croaked the perfectly innocent trans grandmother. “Granny is sick and her eyes are weak.”

Little Red Radical Terf approached the perfectly innocent trans grandma. She seemed uncertain. “My, what … big eyes you have, grandma,” she said.

“The better to see you with, dearie,” said the perfectly innocent trans grandmother.

“W-wait. That makes no sense,” said Little Red Radical Terf. “Your eyes are weak but they’re also big, so that you can see me? And you want the door shut so there’s less light to see?” She took a step back.

“Come hug me, child,” said the perfectly innocent trans grandmother, stretching out her arms in the grandmother’s dressing-gown.

“Wow, what big hands you have, grandma,” said Little Red Radical Terf, with a sharp tone, stepping backwards again.

“The better to hold you with, dearie,” said the perfectly innocent trans grandmother. She batted her big eyes. “What’s wrong? Don’t you recognize your own sweet grandmother?”

“Oh, I recognize you, Mr. Wolf,” said Little Red Riding Terf.

The perfectly innocent trans grandmother was shocked. She made a shocked noise, and so did all the creatures of the forest.

Then the perfectly innocent trans grandmother opened her great, big mouth and ate Little Red. The forest creatures applauded.

Later, the perfectly innocent trans grandmother ate the woodsman, too, and then the whole forest celebrated for seven days and seven nights because their home was bigot-free.

THE END