The first thing I fell in love with was the bodies. Hairy ones. Small, curved, and contoured ones. Long, flat, and slightly out-of-proportion ones. Smooth, oily, suncream-covered ones. Wobbly, lovely little dimpled ones. And every other kind of one you could imagine. If there’s a singular piece that celebrates the female body in all its gorgeously raw glory, Kenwood Ladies’ Pond at Hampstead Heath is it.
As a regular visitor for more than a decade, I am hopelessly devoted to it and have been ever since my first dip. I’ve spent endless afternoons in that meadow in various states of repose: alone with a book, picking at tubs of olives with old friends, bitching about bad dates with new ones. During the few years when I was lucky to live within running distance, I’d often jog there with a bikini underneath my workout clothes only to instantly disrobe on arrival and cool down in the water. It was heaven. That brings me to the pond itself: bracing, intimidatingly deep, and mystically peaceful. You enter the water as one version of yourself and emerge as another.
While the ladies’ pond is many things for many people, for me, its magic has always been rooted in inclusivity. It’s a safe space open to all who identify as female – and since 2019, that invitation has been explicitly extended to trans women by the City of London Corporation, which runs the facility. But that decision, one rooted in the pond’s inherently inclusive spirit, has come to characterise the space with conversations and who is and is not permitted to enjoy it.
The charity Sex Matters is preparing to take legal action against the City of London Corporation, claiming that the inclusion of trans women at the ladies’ pond is in breach of the law following the Supreme Court ruling that a woman is defined by biological sex under the Equality Act. Whether or not a ban against trans women will, or even could, be imposed remains unclear. What I do know is that even the idea itself goes against everything the ladies’ pond represents to me and every other woman I know who frequents it.
There are so few spaces where women can gather freely and safely, enjoying one another’s eclectic quirks and charms in a communal space that is fundamentally about celebration and joy. I’ve had conversations in that changing room with women in their nineties who’ve been swimming there for decades, and have only ever championed the ladies’ pond’s commitment to inclusivity. And I’ve witnessed women of all ages and backgrounds engaging happily and freely without any issue. To my mind, trans woman are – and always have been – a small but integral part of that. And I can’t help but think it’s a minority of people who think differently. How many of them, I wonder, have ever even spoken to a trans woman at the ladies’ pond?
I’ve never once felt unsafe in the presence of a trans woman, whether that’s at the ladies’ pond, in a women’s bathroom, or anywhere else. And I find it desperately sad that some women say they do, citing fears and anxieties that to me have only ever seemed theoretical. The response also seems wildly disproportionate when you consider just how few trans women there are in this country (0.01 per cent, according to the 2021 census) and the fact that this is just one pond in one city. Surely there are other, more pressing concerns that women face for these campaigners to be focusing on?
With all this in mind, the future of the ladies’ pond looks uncertain. Whether it’s who is and isn’t permitted to swim, or simply the disruption the debate itself has caused among regular swimmers, regardless of their gender, it’s clear that the serenity myself and other devoted regulars have come to love is slowly being shattered. And a space that was once defined by peace has been inadvertently hijacked by a conversation based on what seems to be a largely hypothetical threat. In the end, one has to ask whether it will have all been worth it. Only time will tell.
