The Allure of Michfest: Why Trans Must Colonize This Unique Event

Michigan Womyn's Music Festival

Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival

The Ohio Lesbian Festival is open to transwomen, so why all the fuss over the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival? Why Camp Trans and Transwomen Belong Here? Why the trans-activist pressure guilt-trips on Michfest performers to stop playing at MWMF?

The biggest reason why male-to-female transwomen want in at MWMF instead of just going to OLF where they are included, is specifically because the intent of the Fest is a barrier; a barrier which must be overcome by any means.

The Age of Exploration

The Age of Discovery: Exploration of the secret and the unknown is its own reward

It has been my experience that men are (much) worse than women when it comes to a personal sense of entitlement and inclusion. In my experience, many, if not most activisting transwomen bring that sense of entitlement with them into their woman-identities.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

Transwomen belong here

Transwomen belong here

Transwomen want in to Michfest, specifically because they weren’t invited. The festival and The Land it takes place upon is a space to be explored, marked out, fought for and over, and ultimately conquered.

Roadtrip: In search of a mysterious location known as, "The Land"

Roadtrip! In search of a mysterious location known as: “The Land”


Have you seen an all-female gathering in these parts?

If you have ever been socialized as a boy from birth to adulthood, it is very easy to understand where transwomen are coming from, and why it is such a big deal that Lisa Vogel be forced to submit to their demands.

You gender heathens must all convert to Trans or else transphobia, which makes you a bad person

Yeah, I am going to have to demand that you gender heathens all convert to Trans* or else transphobia. Which means that you will go to hell and burn in a fire

Remember, military training and military culture are a part of many trans women’s narratives. Some of us have experience in the Army, Marines, Air Force, even Navy SEALs. Trust us, when it comes to trans-activism, we know how to do war.

Sir! Good news to report. Indigo Girls, Hunter Valentine, and Lea DeLaria  have surrendered to hurt feels trans-activism. We must keep up the pressure. It's only a matter of time before they all surrender and Michfest will finally be ours

Sir! Good news to report. Indigo Girls, Hunter Valentine, and Lea DeLaria have surrendered to hurt feels trans-activism. It is only a matter of time before Lisa Vogel capitulates and Michfest falls.

Once we’ve colonized MWMF it will be considered a “glorious victory for trans inclusion” an achievement to boast of and tell future transwomen about. How we bravely fought and beat the bigoted and ignorant FAB women and took over their space by making them invite us. We sure taught them a lesson! Social justice ftw!

Colonization: Forcing the "T" onto GLBT whether you like it or not

Colonization of Michfest: Forcing the “T” onto GLBT whether you like it or not. We can do it!

Sorry about your socialization!

Male socialization: yeah pretty much this

Male socialization: yeah pretty much like this



Posted in feminism, gender politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 162 Comments

on becoming a servant

Goddess watch over me

Goddess watch over me

When I went and started living full-time as Plastic Girl, I started my life, all over again. Because I was young, with no degree or trade, I had no marketable skills.

My resume had previously been filled with blue-collar stuff, like working in factories, doing janitorial work, temp work in construction, that sort of thing. I mean, once I was out of my teens as an adult, I left fast-food and pizza delivery to get into the 12-hour graveyard shifts of industrial labor. Such is the life of working poor. You take what you can get, and you make the best of it. When the labor demand dries up, you find another job.

In the post 9-11 world, blue-collar industry was destroyed in the slow downward spiral they call the Great Recession, or something. When I transitioned into Plastic Girl, I still had nothing but my blue-collar background.

When I went on to live my life “full-time” as Plastic Girl, I moved from my transition town to a new city for a fresh start, where ostensibly, no one would know me from my old life.

The problem was, I was no longer living in an unincorporated area on the edges of an industrial and warehouse sector. I was living in a Big Name City which has a clear middle and upper class, as well as a lower class. It really is a caste-system based (partly) on what skills you have on your resume. I had no white-collar skills on mine, to save my life.

Very soon after I started my new life, I ran out of money! Getting a nine-to-five gig where I could stand on my feet all day, forty-plus hours a week and do mindlessly simple and repetitive manual tasks for minimum wage was Freaking Hard! It just was not happening, thanks to Nine-Eleven.

In no time at all, during the course of using up my money for the job hunt, I became destitute. And due to my trans-related medical issues, I needed access to medical care. I found a GLBT-friendly clinic with a sliding scale fee schedule.

While I was in the waiting area, I met other transwomen and men. Some of these transwomen fell in love with me, on sight.

Others could barely believe that yours truly was in a free clinic for the underclass. Mainly because, to put it simply, I was young, white, healthy-looking, in good spirits and fairly confident in my identity as Plastic Girl. This made me magnetic, or something, because I attracted transwomen and chasers like nobody’s business.

The fact of the matter is, I was alone, in a new city, in a new life, and I had no friends. I accepted the attentions of some of these transwomen. And that is when I got my education about surviving Teh Street. Surviving being (truly) poor. Getting by, as an underclass.

There was a time when I thought people who applied for welfare were just too lazy or too unmotivated to keep striving until they got a job. I had always associated welfare as being for families of immigrants, or women with children. That was when I was younger, and stupider and far more mabtastic.

I found out from my new trans-friends, that I could collect a small stipend, food stamps and some vouchers for public transportation, if I was willing to humble myself in order to go to the city welfare agency, and ask for help.

So. Because I could not get a job doing what I knew how to do best, I destroyed my mab-ego-pride a little more, and went down to the welfare office to apply for welfare, right alongside those immigrants and single women with children.

I had never done anything like that before, and I felt ashamed that I was left with no other choice, simply because I could just not get a regular honest job. But I did it, and I qualified, and I got food stamps and the whole nine yards.

One day, one of my trans-girlfriends asked me if I wanted to make some easy money to augment my welfare stipend. Of course, I said “Yes”. So. Then we went to a bar that caters to hooking up TGs with MABs who like them.

My friend showed me the ropes. I watched her, and I learned. In no time at all, she had brought some older guy in his fifties over to our table. Turns out, he was willing to pay us each $100 dollars if we would let him watch us make out/make love while he fapped and did a bump of meth or two while fapping.

We brought him back to our place, and everything went according to plan. He was a decent guy to us both. We both “earned” our trick money that night, and it paid for internet, clothes, toiletries, that sort of thing.

My friend used to do the street walk scene. This can be very dangerous work. It is fraught with abusers, some of whom will think nothing much of pulling a knife on you when you get into their car, insist on a free BJ, and then kick you to the curb after he comes in your mouth. This actually happened to my friend one night, while I was inside the bar pacing myself on a glass of red wine, scoping out potential dates.

She picked up a trick from a sidewalk pull-over while she was outside having a cigarette (or fag, as you Brits say), and she was assaulted the instant the door closed and the car pulled away. The john left her without due compensation for services rendered, about four blocks away from the bar I was in. It was pretty awful.

I realized I didn’t want to do the street scene, if I could avoid it. I have done it a handful of times before, but, I trust my spidey-sense and so, when I would get a bad feeling about the vibe coming off a john who is scoping me, I walked back into the bar. It was much better and safer and generally paid better to screen my dates at the table over a drink, then to actually step up to a J that pulls over to the sidewalk for you.

My friend was not very good at saving money and nor did she have a head for business of any kind. So, she spent her meager street-walker earnings as fast as she got it. But I saw a better way to survive and thrive and get ahead and move up financially.

What happened over the course of two months was, I slowly saved up my bar-trick money, and then used it to launch my own business as a call-girl. Then, I got into hyper-femininity.

Within two weeks I had burned up all my saved money on a sexy wardrobe, makeup, grooming stuff, all the girly things a bottom girl wears to show menz she is a bottom.

During my first week of being a real call-girl, I made more money in cash for a few hours of work, than I made in a forty-plus hour-a-week job where I worked my fingers and back to the bone while standing on my feet all day.

With that kind of money, I got off welfare. I didn’t need it! I didn’t want to collect it, unless I really and truly needed it. My welfare stipend for a month was like, $220 dollars, with $100 dollars in food stamps to go with it. I was able to get into better housing of my own effort and new-found financial privilege. This kind of quick and easy cash under the table, upgraded my standard of living and consumption in no time at all.

I had my first ‘girl-friend’ date soon after I started advertising. I was called and booked for an appointment. I got ‘dressed’ and performed all the femininity rituals, including foot-hobbling and short skirts.

I took a cab to a Big Time Ritzy Hotel and was admitted to an amazing hotel suite with a near-panoramic view of the night-time city. It was, well, lovely. For that evening I was a faux-girlfriend and sexual servant to a (nice) VIP mab. He left me a white envelope with five hundred dollars in it. For four hours of work. Less than an hour of the total time spent with him was actual sex-worker stuff.

I would take a couple of these kinds of appointments a week. I would sometimes take quicky appointments at my home that involved various short and sweet sexual services, but my specialty was the “girl-friend” experience. This means, being a servant-girl and submissive to menz for a couple of hours. Being his “date” to dinner and drinks, and or whatever.

I learned to be a good listener. I learned to let guys talk and let them relax and enjoy my femininity and openness. I learned to please someone besides myself. And after awhile, I got good at it. De-stressing guys who wanted no-strings faux-intimacy with a girl they did not have to see ever again, was my job for the better part of a year and a half.

If someone had told me when I was eighteen years old, that I would be living as a woman and a call-girl in a Big City three thousand miles away from my rural hometown in a mere seven years down the road, I would have laughed at the insanity and imagination of the idea. But that is where I found myself, within five months of going full-time with my life as Plastic Girl.

When you are poor and you ask others for help just to stay alive, your ego goes away. It has no choice, but to die. This will change your personality.

Your ego gets shattered a bit more, with each and every new level you are forced to bend and yield to. You learn to say “please” and “thank you” and “I am sorry (if I offended)” with total sincerity, because, after enough repetitions, your submission will no longer be an act, but just a fact.

When rich MABs, or educated and business-type women look at you momentarily as you pass them by on the street on the way to the bank to deposit the money you made the evening before, you avert your eyes and look at the ground. Because, you know your place as a transwoman and prostitute.

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Thank you for coming :)

:) :) :)


I really do love all of you

Posted in #NATWALT, artificial persons, love, women's reproductive health | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Two Point Oh is good to go

My other blog is now open.  It’s safe. No harm will come to you.  My other stuff no longer requires a password. Anyone can come.

If GM doesn’t like it, she can slam me on her blog all day if she wants.

She called me an attention whore on twitter a few months ago, can you believe that? I don’t answer to the first part. But it’s true, I didn’t use protection when I came back. It’s okay. I forgive my (half) sisters

Posted in artificial persons, cyborgs, gender identity politics | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

I can feel you


Posted in love, shared boyhood, spirituality | Tagged | 2 Comments

Super Moon Saturday


These supermoons appear to be approximately 14% bigger and 30% brighter than an ordinary full moon.

I know I said I wasn’t going to post until next week but, I had a quickie post idea, and I wanted to share.

Tonight is a super full moon. No sleep for me tonight. Or. Not much.

I call them moonling rays.

It’s when I wake-up two to three hours after going to bed and I can feel it pulling on me. I know exactly where it is in the sky. I can point to it through solid walls and I am usually fairly accurate.

I will get out of bed trying not to disturb my spouse. I put on my blackest black. Then I go outside. For many women, that is not an option. To walk solo at night. No way. If I was short and delicate and pregnatable, I would probably be (a lot) more afraid to do that.

I allow my senses and awareness to stretch out like an expanding sphere in a way I would never do in broad daylight with a lot of people around me. But when my energy feelers are extended, I can feel people from quite a distance and I can keep my distance from them, by predicting their movements in advance. It’s almost like a sixth sense.

At this point, I find a place to worship the moon with soundless prayer. Prayer that is done with my spirit. Then I tap into a place inside me where there is a void, like the center of a galaxy. It is a place of spiraling surrender-energy. From that place, I can tap into and absorb the power of the moon into my body. It regenerates me spiritually.

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The end is just a new beginning

After last month’s posts and the surrounding events, and the reactions to them… I kind of lost 75% of my motivation for blogging about feminism or radical feminism. I don’t feel like I have anything to prove in that area anymore. Hopefully my final Michfest post will shame my sisters into compassion and empathy.

I still want to do some posts about what being bisexual means, to me. I wanted to write about progesterone and estrogen’s effects on my brain and body. I still have my final trans-narrative to write out. As I’ve said before, I don’t want to be known for being trans. I don’t want to be like A. James, and J. Mock and go down in history with my life’s greatest achievement being transitioning into a trans woman. That’s not who I am, you know?

So, I am going to share my deepest and most secret-est trans narrative with all of you, for free, no strings. I don’t intend to write a memoir of transitioning. I don’t care if people don’t know and appreciate that I transitioned. I get my actualization and my gender confirmation, by most people not knowing.

That’s not good enough for a lot of us, which is why so many of us come out sooner or later, even after years of stealth. Because we want the attention and recognition that we see our sisters getting in the media. That’s all you guys. I think it’s partly ego, and a desire to be seen and appreciated for the transition. That’s okay though. I am not going to put up dilation videos or voice training or style and hair tips, none of that stuff. You can learn from me, feminism. I’ve now read The Feminine Mystique, Gyn/Ecology, Gender Hurts, parts of Transsexual Empire, and I have Dworkin’s Intercourse, Jeffrey’s The Spinster and Her Enemies, Cordelia Fine’s Delusions of Gender, and for something different, Margaret Atwood’s, The Handmaid’s Tale on my reading list. I am just hooked on feminist and rad fem writing now. It resonates deeply with many of my personal lived experiences.

I tried to reach out to those that dislike us the most and to empathize and see ourselves as they see us. I went “behind the lines” or into the gender-trenches, as it were, and read their books and their blogs. I achieved what I set out to do, which was to make contact. But it burned me in the end, from both directions. I am feeling pretty much retired from that now.

Although I still want to call out Ms. Serano, but I don’t think I have the venom anymore. I don’t think she can learn from me. I don’t think I can convert her and get her to drop all that “cis” crap. Although it might be fun to try…it feels like anything I said to criticize or correct her thinking would be wasted gynergy on my part.

Anyway.. I am taking the next week off from posting, although I will reply to all comments when I get some time from my training schedule.

For now, enjoy some DJ Sammy

Posted in feminism, gender politics | Tagged , , , , , , | 34 Comments

Turning the tables on male sexism: is reverse sexism the solution?

Turning the tables on male sexism: is reverse sexism the solution?

Posted in feminism, gender politics, Media | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

First Open Thread: whatever topics

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what killed porn for me

 I was never a big “fan” or user of porn at any time in my life. But recently something has adjusted or changed inside me about it.

For the most part porn was always kind of “there” just hanging around the edges of things. I might have passed a movie rental store, seen something porn-like in a movie or on a poster, given it  glance, and then moved on.

But that was mostly in my MAB life. Porn was just visual stuff for dudes to get off on.  I was neither “pro” porn, or “against” it, either. I just didn’t have an opinion one way or another. I had never read anything or lived anything that might have given me pause to actually LOOK at porn, what it is, why it is, and come to some kind of decision, one way or another, on it’s value or morality.

But I won’t say that at no time in my MAB life did I not hear a tiny voice in my guts that was whispering one word in judgment of the entire pRonZ thing.

The word was exploitation.

What could I do about it though? Nothing really. Porn is an institution it seems. Since I was never a major consumer of it, I simply didn’t care or think that I should care. I had always felt that, that was the way world was. It’s how things ARE. Porn just IS. Dudes just want to FAP to it, wtf is the big deal?

I state that just to show that I understand your average Joe Blow’s rationale for saying. “What’s wrong with my porn? What are you, a prude? Who cares how I get off? It’s JUST PORN.

But it’s not JUST porn.

When I was in the s-w scene, I saw a lot MORE porn. Tons of porn. And it seemed like Porn had a natural place in the adult sex and entertainment industry. Porn was like an appetizer for the main course, or something. It was always there, and I sort of tuned it out, because it was everywhere.

Then eventually I got out of the scene. Life went on. I moved on to other projects. Years went by. I finally got a chance at trying my hand at using some of my real skills. I wanted to study. I wanted to get a lost education. An education that I missed out on in my teens and twenties.  And then I wanted to write about what I read.

So I read books, and blogs, and articles and have been reading, learning and trying hard to listen and see, (even though I mess this up, still!)

As many of my readers know full well, the last couple months has been a kind of crash-course in feminism for me. Some of that reading I’ve been absorbing has to do with porn and the pornifaction of women’s bodies. There is a structure there, that spells out a kind of epidemic of sorts.

It happened relatively recently. I guess it was kind of building, after having been Silent All These Years. A kind of anger that I could not put my finger on until recently.

I’ve been living my life as a woman, as a faux-fab, for some number of years now. I have been trying my best to assimilate myself as a woman all that time. I have been inhabiting a female-like body that I have come to love and to own.

My own self. Own myself. Own my body. Own Me. My own self. My body.

Not just barely the other week, I was doing errands “downtown” when I passed through a shady (and low-rent) urban zone which has all kinds of adult novelty, adult video and live adult entertainment going on, almost twenty-four hours a day.

As I passed some of these stores I saw dudes doing what dudes do. Browsing porn. Buying porn. And I know that ultimately, these guys are going to end up fapping to this porn.

In the interests of humility, and to set up my next statements, let me just say that I am no model. I don’t have a big head about my appearance. It is highly unlikely I am going to end up on the cover of a fashion or women’s magazine. I would say I am about average-looking and lucky to be so.

But that does not stop me from feeling like porn is a Stand In for a woman. It could be any woman. If he likes fapping to blondes, then porn featuring blonde females is likely to be part of it. But an image of a blonde woman, a two-dimensional surrogate, is still a stand-in for a real woman. A woman born woman with a female body. A body that this Dude COVETS for the sake of GETTING OFF.

GETTING OFF in this case means, using her. Using her image, holding her in place, possessing her body, even an image of one, to USE whenever or however he wants to. Then to put her image, her paper or plastic body away, in his man-storage place that all menz hide their pron stash in, for her to chill out between the pages until he WANTS to USE her AGAIN.

I have been  inhabiting my body, and psychologically/emotionally passing as a faux-female long enough for me to see myself, my feminized body being used in porn. I have lived the experience of being invisibly undressed by a guy, as he no doubt pornified me through my clothing, wondered what I might look like naked, and if he would want to “hit it” with his dick.

I see men who view porn as wanting to briefly possess a female body and person. A tame and voiceless woman who will open her holes up to him and let him, “bust a nut” in one, or on her. When I see a guy viewing porn I see a guy who wants to possess me simply for the purpose of using, stuffing and coming in, me. A guy who would (if I looked like his dream date) no doubt take my image and covet me and fap to me until he grew bored of using me, and moved onto another image of a woman he wants to possess.

Then it was that I realized that men can rape you, with their eyes. And that I had been visually raped before. Lots. And that men who view and fap to porn, are using these stand-in surrogate two-dimensional women in order to take them and use them and rape them. You might even call it “training” for the real (physical) deal.

An image of a woman has no consent, can not give permission, can not say “no, not now.” She is just used for a cheap and temporary animalistic sexual thrill. When a guy looks at me with a certain scanning, dare I say “probing” stare, I can feel that he is using my body even from five or ten feet away, for a temporary mental thrill. And that makes me feel like I am his porn, and that he is trying to possess and mentally penetrate me, if only until he psychically “comes”.

All this has changed my feeling about, nay, polarized my feelings about porn and my body, because I am now sensitized to how my (faux) female body is something that men visually covet and want to control for the purpose of unwanted and unasked for psychic (or physical) PIV.

That is one thing porn does to dudes who consume enough of it. They see us women as two-dimensional objects to control, masturbate to, and ultimately come on (all without our informed consent). Until the next time.


Originally published in 2011

Posted in feminism, women's health | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Two for Tuesday | beg like a human | invited transgender species

Two posts, and two videos.

Star Trek same-sexuality. Bonus: @ 1:43 included a section from the TNG episode: The Outcast, about a genderless society and citizen who hides her *gendered behavior, in the hopes of avoiding anti-gender reparative treatment called: psychotectic therapy.

Beg like a human. Borg Queen. Robosexuality. Very funny.

Invited transgender species @ .40 seconds.

*the writers of this ST:TNG episode mix and match sex and gender.


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Her brain identifies with that of a boy: Parents Share Story of Transgender 6-Year-Old Son

Alternately titled: how to spot pseudoscience whackery, easily.

The California parents of a 6-year-old transgender child have gone public with their family’s personal story, posting a poignant seven-minute video to YouTube that’s drawn more than 3.5 million views in just a few days.

From the Yahoo article, “Some told us it was ‘just a phase.’ The trouble was, phases end,” notes the video montage about Ryland Whittington, who was born a girl but recently transitioned to male, thanks to his parents’ full support. “This was only getting stronger.”

Although Ryland was born with female anatomy, her brain identifies with that of a boy.

Everything that is wrong with the story of Ryland Whittington can be summed up with this:

Can you spot the problem?

Can you spot the problem?

What clinical medical test did Ryland take that analyzed  her (sorry his) brain to make that determination? Was any brain test done at all which would lead to such a claim? Is there even any such a test in existence?

There is no brain scan you take which shows how an alleged trans boy’s brain identifies with that of a boy. The only way to make this determination, is from observation of behavior, and through patient testimonial.

But then came the really scary news. “Through our research, we discovered a disturbing statistic: 41 percent of transgender people have attempted suicide due to lack of societal acceptance. The national average is 4.6 percent,” the story explains. “We were not willing to take that risk.”

Ah, yes. The transgender suicide statistic. This statistic should be a legend or a trope unto itself now. The entire purpose of this statistic is to raise awareness about a sociological phenomenon that is confused for a biological one with the intention of earlier detection and sooner treatment.

What can we learn about the idea: “41 percent of transgender people have attempted suicide due to a lack of societal acceptance”?

Social acceptance. Many, if not most of us have a desire to be socially accepted by others. Acceptance can be difficult if it appears we do not belong to the group we want to fit in with. In Ryland’s case, she probably knows she is a female that wants what boys have. She wants to become a boy, because she already knows: girls are pink and feminine, which she has an aversion to. She also believes that she can’t be blue without also being male, and without the proper set of sex organs to match the gender expectations. The problem here is not with society, but with her, and her brain.

This is called biological reductionism. It shows that as a society, we have a vested interest in getting people to believe in sex-based stereotypes of gender behavior. As a society, we reject that someone of one sex can perform the behaviors assigned to those of the opposite sex. A strong compulsion or attraction to sex-based cross-gender roles means there must be something wrong with their mind.

This is basically a kind of social gaslighting, it is framed as “If you are sex=pink but like behavior=blue it must be because you have a blue brain. The brain’s predilection for blueness is a kind of consequence, a behavioral destiny based on the genitals attached, right? In this case, the proper genitals for someone who acts blue, is a penis. Lacking the penis evidence, the problem must therefore be sex difference in the brain. This reasoning has an underlying premise: sex determines gender – gender is assigned based on sex.

Anybody can learn to perform gendered behavior. There is no secret to it. The problem with the screenshot at eight seconds, for those who missed it, is that the parents have internalized the gender binary! Look at the screencap again.

They told us we were having a baby girl.

They did not tell us we were having a boy.

Because being a vagina bearer means your behavior has been preset: pink

Had she been born male then it would follow that his behavior is preset: blue.

When she grew up and saw boy socialized behavior, clothing and toys she wanted that for herself.

Whittington Family, “It was easiest to call Ryland a tomboy“.

She began to show aversion to anything feminine

Some told us it was ‘just a phase.’ The trouble was, phases end. This was only getting stronger.

Shows montage of Ryland wearing blue, and acting blue.

She said “When the family dies, I will cut my hair so I can be a boy.

(underlying premise, uncut long hair makes you a girl.)

From the mouths of babes, right? Shows an ignorance of boys with long hair and girls with short hair. Maybe she just has never been exposed to or hung out with guys who like pink and girls who like blue.

Let’s look at this again:

It was easiest to call Ryland a tomboy

Go to google, query search terms: butch, dyke, lesbian, homosexual.

There is a group of humans, females specifically, who never outgrew being a tomboy. That means they are blue-behavior females. It’s okay to be a blue-aligned female person. Not a disease. Not a disorder. Not a condition that requires intervention or transition.

Your tomboy daughter, will either straighten herself out due to the heterosexuality mandate, or she will persist into young womanhood, as a gender non-conforming female. Maybe heterosexual. Maybe bisexual. Possibly lesbian.

Either way, if society was totally cool with girls being tomboys, then Ryland could wear her blue clothes and her short hair and be unashamed. The gender dysphoria that Ryland experiences comes from gendered advertising and gendered media, which is omnipresent. Her brain has already absorbed the knowlege: boys have penises, girls have vaginas. Well, maybe. Perhaps more accurately, her brain has perceived the gender construct. A construct which tells us all, from an early age, that pink=femininity, and femininity is assigned to humans born female.

The girl has tomboy shame, which, if fed with parental or societal disapproval over a long enough time could morph into butch shame. But her parents are making sure she never experiences or accepts a butch female narrative, by encouraging her to straitjacket herself into the binary, a binary which says, if you gravitate to blue things, and you have a vagina, then there must be something wrong with your brain.

Both the parents and the trans activist “experts” they have been consulting, share an unconscious, internalized premise, that social gender is an assignment based on sex. If the brain rejects the socially mandated gender assignment, then something must be wrong with the brain. She must have a male brain. Because only a male sexed person has a male brain, and society programs us all to accept that male persons like blue.

There are far, far less transsexuals than there are gay and lesbian people. It is more likely that Ryland is butch. A lifer tomboy. But on the remote chance that she might possibly be transsexual, her parents are transitioning her. This is barely disguised homophobia, pure and simple.

It seems to me that the parents are just as confused about the nature of gender as their daughter seems to be. A truly liberal parent would have cut her hair into a typical “boy-style”, and decorated her room for blue persuasions, and she would be encouraged to continue being a she, and not a he. I see a pair of negligent, if well-meaning parents, who are fully committed to the social construct of gendered behavior roles based on sex assignment.

The reason their daughter is encouraged to be trans is because her parents ideology is actually conservative. They have faith in the meaningfulness of sex-based gender straitjacketing. Their pro-transition stance is just a liberal candy coating covering a filling made of a commitment made to conserving established gender binarism underneath.

Gender dysphoria is not a suffering unqiue to trans folks either. Plenty of non trans experience intense gender dyshoria and end up working it out as they grow up. As an exercise, can you spot the difference between a young transman and butch woman? How can one person’s gender expression be labeled unnatural, while another person’s gender nonconformity is not?

What is the objective criteria, the evidence-based science that we can use to easily detect the difference between a female to male, vs a butch female? There isn’t any! The judgement of a female child being trans due to possessing a mind that has been determined as “male” is appalling unscientific. It’s grossly negligent. This trans trend we have in our society, a trend to transition based on behavior performance is ripe for a gender-critical takedown. Let us levy some needed skepticism here. Let’s respond rationally to what is clearly an attempt to create or uphold  gender behavior rules based on sex.

Let’s use our advanced medical technology to make non gender-conforming people into the sex they were always meant to be, because behavior standards are based on genitals. Genital X means you have a pink brain, while genital Y means you have a blue brain. But if you perform pink behavior while having male genitals it follows that your brain is pink, because females only ever like pink things. It’s almost like trans is saying: your genital is your destiny, and your brain is equivalent to your genitals.

If in the year 2014, we are encouraging children to transition to the opposite sex, in order to like or act out blue or pink behavior without shame, then we are going backwards towards a time when women were considered feminine, and men were considered manly, and never the gender roles be bent. George Orwell is groaning right now, at the dystopia we have become.

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