In The Throes of Trans-Hysteria Let’s Remember: Real Women Are Made of Sterner Stuff

Frankly, I couldn’t care less how you identify. But don’t ask me to call a man who has his penis cut off a woman.

Sick of the sight of trans?

Well me too…. without the hashtag.

At the moment, I can’t move without trans being shoved in my face, I feel like trans is everywhere, we are peak-trans.

In the last 24 hours alone I have seen a British TV documentary on it; heard a Labour MP, Dawn Butler, instruct trans-women to apply for all-female candidate shortlists; discovered Altrincham Grammar School for Girls will no longer refer to pupils as girls; and grimaced at an $800,000 settlement for a school kid who wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom of their choice.

Or should that be his?

Our state broadcaster is posing the question: “is it discriminatory to refuse to date a trans-woman?”

The answer is no, by the way.

Speaking frankly, I don’t really care what you want to be in life. I am a libertarian. For all I care you can identify as a gender fluid Druid. It matters not.

As long as you don’t expect me to change my ways or opinions, or pay for your fantasies, that’s fine.

When India Willoughby, a trans-newsreader, entered the U.K. Celebrity Big Brother house, I couldn’t have been happier for her. I mean, her dress was horrific and her attitude stinks, but that’s fine too. I don’t have to live with her.

Nor do I have to accept she is a woman.

She can believe whatever she likes and live her life exactly how she pleases. If you feel you identify as a female and, in India’s case, want to dress like a hooker, then go for your life, whatever makes you happy.

But in my opinion, cutting a penis off a man does not make him a woman. In the same way, a cat with no legs is not a furry slug.

The shiny-blue-suited surgeon from the TV documentary Transformation Street said, as he lopped off breasts and refashioned a penis into a vagina:

“Many of my patients go to gynecologists who don’t realize that they are trans-women. That’s the standard to which we push ourselves.”

I call bull.

And quite frankly, I hope any self-respecting gyno would call the same. It’s an outrageous claim that a man who has had a vagina refashioned out of their penis could confuse an expert in female anatomy.

And if said surgeon is prepared to make these outrageous claims, how is he being trusted with the complex sexual transition of vulnerable people?

Real women – and I use this term with some degree of pride – couldn’t be less interested in the way their lady bits look. We are too busy trying to rule the world, empty the washing machine, raise entertaining kids and avoid anything Oprah-related, to care.

My girlfriends have survived operations for car crashes, cancers and tumors. They know that life is too precious to make surgery a choice, especially if it involves lying with your legs akimbo. They are strong women with families and careers.

The idea that this strength is somehow dictated or reinforced by how convincing the state of my undercarriage is, is utter nonsense.

So, too, is the decision by Altrincham Grammar School for Girls to ban the word girls.

In a letter to parents, principle Stephanie Gill said the term girls will be no longer be used when addressing students to break “ingrained habits in the way pupils are spoken to and spoken about.”

Ms. Gill said using the term could result in transgender pupils being “misgendered.”

And here’s the rub. First up, this makes huge assumptions about the term girl, as if it implies something derogatory, something less. That is not my understanding, or my daughters’. To be a girl is to carry on even though it hurts, to get your schoolwork done because being great gives you options, and to find the fun and ignore the foolish.

Secondly, don’t change a whole school for fear of a tiny minority feeling misgendered. Just as I don’t make all my dinner guests suffer just because one lunatic happens to be a vegan.

If you get called she instead of he, no big shakes. I get called a c*nt most days by the tolerant left, and I can handle it.

As a brilliant Conservative friend of mine doesn’t identify as a trans individual, rather that he has a trans history, he used to be a she:

“To be honest with you, I’m just a normal guy. I’m sick of all the BS around trans. Trans-activists have made people believe we are freaks, only bothered about being gender non-binary, with half our hair shaved off, the rest purple, freaking out about bathrooms…”

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“And God forbid [anyone should] misgender you. Because of these Berkeley snowflake nutcases, we get umbrella’d in with all the cucks in their clitoris hats.”

I love his honesty. I suspect there are millions more like him, transitioning from female to male because they want to live their best life on their own terms, but not make their whole life about some kind of LGBT-cause and be used as political props.

“My sub-culture is about being a Christian Conservative. I voted Republican. And I drive a truck. You know, being gay or trans is super-accepted here in the States. But God forbid you try and come out of the closet as a Conservative.”

We talk about the selfishness of the decision to trans. I reflect on the mother in the gender clinic weeping because she was losing a daughter to gain a son. Or the close friends of mine whose dad became a woman but in doing so became a stranger to his grandchildren who loved him.

I do think to be trans is to be utterly selfish. That is not necessarily a bad thing. We should all aim to live a life that makes us the happiest we can be.

But I wonder at whose expense.

I think of the ex-Marine in one documentary who had served two tours of Afghanistan. In his fatigues with his six pack, he was a handsome man.

But just five months after marrying his wife, he said he wanted to be a woman, and was beginning the physical transition to become one. His wife looked broken.

“I know I will lose my marriage, and maybe my relationship with my wife,” the ex-Marine shrugged.

“But I have to live an honest life.”

And at that point you are supposed to applaud and say something about being truly brave.

But I don’t. I think of his wife looking back at her wedding photos and knowing it was all a lie. I imagine her hopes for living an honest life with her husband and maybe kids. All thrown to the side in pursuit of his happiness.

That is not bravery. That is cowardice.

Trans-women are often willing to leave behind the people who love them the most to pursue personal happiness; at any cost to others, even their own mum, wife or children.

They are nothing like me. I’d argue that they know nothing about being a real woman, either. Too many seem to think it is about hair, nails, makeup or how their front bottom looks standing over a mirror.

To me, it’s about always being there and providing for the people I love the most.

Whatever your views, demand is on the up. At Charing Cross in London, the oldest and largest adult clinic, the number of referrals for trans-related medical intervention has almost quadrupled in 10 years. A clinic in Nottingham reported a 28-fold increase in referrals in eight years.

The USA has also seen a dramatic rise in trans-surgery. More than 3,200 gender confirmation surgeries of all types were performed in 2016, a plastic surgeons’ group reports. That represents a rise of nearly 20 percent from 2015.

There is a trans-trend. Which raises a problem.

I worry that to be trans has become congruent with attracting attention – something our young people so desperately seek, often through having mental or health conditions instead of through achieving success.

I also worry that the trans-trend could lead to young, vulnerable people making decisions they will later regret.

And that the sticky fingers of trans-activists are marking our children at an ever-younger age.

In 2015 the Gender Identity Development Service (GIDS) in the UK prescribed thirty-two children under the age of 16 hormone blockers to delay puberty, 41 in the year before.

Whatever happened to letting kids be kids? Blocking puberty feels horribly cruel to me. We object to the use of antibiotic in cattle, but are content to feed drugs to block puberty to our kids.

In darker moments, I wonder what the end game is – and whether the family unit will become destabilized to the point it is a thing of the past, where belonging is a lost art.

I do not have a fear of those who are trans. And I do not believe it is transphobic to say that cutting the penis off a man does not automatically a woman make.

My biggest fear is that we lose sight of the strength and resilience of real women, fulfilled by the happiness of their family and something other than themselves.

We should celebrate real women. And we should start by calling them girls.

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