I know I’m old-fashioned, but I’m a pretty big fan of this thing we used to call science. It was a way of understanding the world based on observation and experimentation, rather than superstition and fear, and it worked pretty well. I miss those days.
For the latest in the Orwellian nightmare that is life in 2017, here’s Chris Baynes at The Independent:
Britain’s first pregnant man has given birth to a girl.
Hayden Cross, 21, made headlines around the world when he announced he was pregnant by a sperm donor, three years after becoming legally male through gender reassignment.
He put his transition on hold to have a child…
He now plans to complete his gender reassignment to remove his breasts and ovaries.
There’s just one small problem with this assertion: Ms. Cross is not genetically male and never will be. She’s not a transgender man, or any other sort of man. She is a woman. For example, she just gave birth. That’s what we call evidence that she’s a woman.
If Ms. Cross wants to declare that she’s now a man, and if she can convince the country where she lives to help her create and maintain that fiction, there’s nothing I can do about it. But I refuse to tell an obvious lie just to spare her feelings, and the feelings of others who have some sort of emotional investment in propping up this ludicrous pretense.
Congratulations on your newborn, ma’am. But you’re not a dude and I’m not going to call you one. Yell at me, dox me, throw a fit at me, whatever. I will not lie just because the plain truth of your existence makes you feel bad.
Note to the LGBT community: If you want everybody to start calling you a man, Step 1 is to keep all penises out of your vagina.
In other transgender news:
taxation is a sharing of responsibility only the wealthy believe that taxation is theft they dont pay taxes we should make them https://t.co/2vqxe9ObT7
— Chelsea E. Manning (@xychelsea) July 9, 2017
Does “transitioning” drive people insane, or does their insanity compel them to “transition”? I suppose it’s a chicken/egg scenario, assuming you’re still benighted enough to believe that an egg can’t be laid by a rooster.