“Dead names” for soul-dead kids
Turns out “gender dysphoria” was exactly the right name for it.
Amy says her daughter was 15 — and just broken up with her boyfriend — when her daughter told her, “I’m trans, and I need a new name.” It didn’t seem real to Amy. “This was coming from somewhere else. It wasn’t organic,” Amy revealed in a new documentary.
When Helen’s son Jonas, then 4, told her he was a girl, she figured, “So one day, he’s a girl, the next he’s a fish.” Helen and her wife split up because her ex-wife saw Jonas as Rosa.
Hm. I think I’m beginning to see the underlying issue here, mayhap.
After Bill’s son Sean went to college, Sean decided he was female. Sean was diagnosed with cancer at an early age and lost a leg to the disease. After he died of the illness, Sean’s funeral turned into a cultural war skirmish, as Sean’s college friends pressed Bill to call his late son “Ellie.”
Sean, you see, was a “dead name,” the transitioned reserve for their names assigned at birth.
Dead Name is also the title of a 50-minute documentary about how the explosion in gender transitioning has affected three families.
According to Reuters, the number of new diagnoses of gender dysphoria for children aged 6 to 17 nearly tripled from 2017 to 2021.
There’s no good scientific explanation for the explosion.
Nope, but there’s damned sure a societal one, a cultural one.
Something new update! Steyn called it back in 2015.
To be sure, as the chromosomocentrists argue, one cannot, biologically, “change sex”. But I’ll skip that argument, because, as usual, conservatives are fighting over ground the left has already scorched and moved on from for new conquests. I have no great objection to a grown man who “identifies” as a woman and wishes to live as one. Guys have been doing that, to one degree or another, throughout history, and all that’s happened is that cosmetic surgery has caught up with their desires. If half the women in California can walk around with breast implants, I don’t see why the chaps can’t.
But the chromosomocentrists are missing the point. The left’s saying, “Yeah, XY chromosomes, big deal. You’re right, but so what? No one’s saying she’s a woman. We’re saying she’s a transwoman – a new, separate and way more glamorous category that’s taking its seat at the American table and demanding public affirmation. This isn’t your father’s sex change. Changing from man to woman is so last century.”
The coronation of Caitlyn is ultimately not about the right to choose which of the two old teams you want to play on. It’s about creating a cool new team. The “T” was always the relatively sleepy end of LGBT, and didn’t ostensibly have much in common with the other three-quarters of the acronym. The company it keeps only makes sense if the object of transitioning is not to “pass” but to create a new assertive identity group in and of itself.
What happened this week was a strange mix of Huxley and Orwell, Brave New World and Nineteen Eighty-Four, hedonism and totalitarianism, sexual diversity and ruthless conformity in everything else – a stiletto heel stamping on a human face, forever.
Or until the mullahs take over.
Yep. As I always say, nobody is wrong a hundred percent of the time, about everything. Not even the Mooselimbs.