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Pic: Rose Morelli (posed by model)
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I’m not going to say it all again. It’s
all been said - and ignored - a million times. ‘We all know what a woman is, we
all came out of one’ sums it up pretty nicely, and because we all know, we all also
know perfectly well why women need safe spaces away from men. Demurring and ‘whatif-ing’
to the contrary is no more than idle, self-indulgent, and frankly, lazy armchair
virtue-signalling from those with their greedy hands stuck in the woke cookie
jar.
No, I want to discuss the themes that
have repeatedly come up among those males who identify as women, some of whom I
count as personal friends, and whose bravery comes not from dressing in a
manner likely to draw side-eyes, if not actual violence from other males, but
in owning the maleness they know in their bones they can really do nothing more
than cosmetic about.
Whilst most of the time, they’re lovely
company; funny, witty, sweet, and kind, this often gives way to a darkness with
which I as a friend, and representing something I know must pain them (a woman
of the variety they feel they were supposed to be), don’t feel qualified to
help them. They talk of the pain of loneliness, of feeling like "freaks",
of wishing they didn’t feel the way they do, wondering what they did to be
afflicted with the feelings they have, and openly expressing the thought that
they will only be free of it when they are dead.
It’s disturbing and distressing stuff.
Being afflicted with an othering and isolating
condition myself (psychic ability), I’ve searched alternatives to see if there
was anything I could find that might help.
One suggestion I proffered was that
possibly these friends of mine might well have been women in another
incarnation, but had left the earth plane with some unfinished business or
something.
“I dunno, hen” shrugged one. “But I’m
happy to entertain pretty much any notion if it will explain why I feel like
this.”
From where I am sitting, to be trans, or
rather to suffer from the medically acknowledged condition of Gender Dysphoria
does not seem to me to be a happy state of affairs, and leads me to wonder if
affirmation without question is actually as compassionate as those who signal
it would have us believe.
It’s actually pretty patronising.
“There, there, dear.” “Of course
you are.” “Anything you say…”
I don’t think that’s what people like my
own circle of trans friends really need.
90% of the trans-identified males I know
are homosexual, their condition condemning them never to find what Quentin Crisp
wistfully referred to as "the great dark man", because he is only
interested in the kind of female they know they can never be.
In a society obsessed with tidying
people away into neat pairs, of course they're miserable.
It strikes me that Gender Dysphoria is
right up there with Anorexia, Bulimia and other body dysmorphias that are
lodged in the mind and classified as mental disorders, yet Theresa May proclaimed
in the House of Commons that we must never call it such.
How helpful is that to people like my
friends who desperately want to know why they feel as they do, and wish they
did not? Saying what we think they want to hear isn't loving, isn't
compassionate; it's about making ourselves feel good because we don't want to
be disliked. Who but ourselves does that really serve?
As for woman as just some wafting,
nebulous concept, in her controversial single ‘Hard Out Here’ of 2014, Lily
Allen sang of the difficulty of life as a woman. The accompanying video action
opens with Lily in an operating theatre having liposuction, and pleading that
she's "had two babies" when her manager shakes his head, wondering
how she could have let herself get into such a state.
The entire mid-section of the song
screams of the brutal pressures under which women are placed in order to
survive in a world that judges them more harshly and demands more of them than
it does of men:
“If you're not a size six, and you're
not good lookin', Well, you better be rich, or be real good at cookin'; you
should prob'ly lose some weight, 'cos we can't see your bones…”
It's a catchy song. Anthemic. Scans
brilliantly, hits hard, and with lyrics such as “inequality promises that it’s
here to stay, always trust the injustice ‘cos it’s not going away” - it had me
punching the air in agreement.
Yet the following year, in 2015, Lily
supported Trans Awareness Week by posting a meme of a brain against a pair of
knickers stating that “gender is up here” – pointing to the brain, and “not in
here” pointing to the knickers.
If being a woman is just a state of
mind, one wonders what would possess anyone to ‘choose’ to be the subject of
the kind of life – and pressures – Lily sang about only the year before.
The answer is that genuine gender
dysphorics don't choose it - but they would like to know why it chooses
them.
For the others, the strident activists who
demand we alter our language to suit them, abandon safeguarding, and take a knee
for pronouns; to use the sort of from-the-hip language that Bedales-educated
Lily might use herself to sound a bit more ‘Pimlico’, I would suggest that Lily
knows perfectly well it’s all bollocks.
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Bit more Pimlico, innit...? | | |
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So do my trans friends. It's time to
give them some real love, compassion, and support. Not patting them on the head
and lying to them might be a good start...
© Emmeline Wyndham - 2020.