Caityln Jenner, et al, insist they are “she” rather than “he” on account of how they feel inside – as opposed to what’s between their legs (or was) as bestowed by nature.
In other words, reality is fungible.
In other words, there is no such thing as objective reality.
We are what we feel and say we are – and others are duty bound to accept it. To embrace it. Bruce – um, Caitlyn – is not mentally ill. An eccentric. A latter-day Dr. Frank N. Furter.
This raises a number of interesting questions. Is arithmetic also a matter of opinion, of feeling? Does 2 plus 2 equal 5 as much as it equals 4? If Bruce can insist that he is in fact a she – and if we are compelled to believe it – then why shouldn’t we also believe that 2 plus 2 equals 5?
This will have repercussions which transcend the cash register.
If Bruce can insist he – she – is Caitlyn and actually female and not a six-foot-two man in a dress then why can’t I insist – and others be compelled to accept on the same basis – that I am a crustacean? Specifically a lobster. I have known it since I was a shoft-shelled larvae but had to hide my true self from the cruel bipedalarchy and toxic mammalinity which has oppressed the crustacean minority lo these many years.
It does not matter whether you see them. Or even whether they exist. I am not ill. Tetched in the head.
Just like Caitlyn’s lack of female chromosomes and natural bits and pieces are irrelevant – so we are told – to the question of male – or female – the fact that you can’t see my claws and exoskeleton and compound eyes is immaterial to my assertions that they exist.
You must believe – and accept.
That part isn’t de jure – yet. But is de facto. To disbelieve in the femaleness of Caitlyn is to hate “her.” Which also implies a desire to harm her.
Or so the logic goes.
This “hating” – even if not accompanied by any action – will soon constitute an offense in law.
It is not enough to accept – as Libertarians do – that any of us is free (or ought to be free) to dress however we like, call ourselves whatever we like, even modify our bodies however we like. After all, they are ours.
The issue isn’t the freedom to be a weirdo.
The demand is that others accept the non-objective; that they deny reality and pretend that 2 plus 2 does equal 5 when it is asserted that it does.”
To disbelieve it is a failure to “embrace diversity.”
In fact, it is to embrace insanity.
At gunpoint, if necessary. As will probably be necessary. As has already become necessary in several countries in Western Europe and Canada where it is a officially punishable “hate” to deny that he is in fact a she.
Back to my lobster musings.
I insist upon equal treatment for my special needs – for example, a brine tank made available to me and those like me (there will be more) at every “public” place.
If Bruce – whoops, Caitlyn – can use the cudgel of the law to force the owner of a restaurant or bar or other such “public” place to allow her to use the women’s room then I see no reason why I ought not to be similarly accommodated.
They – and you – must accept my exoskeleton.
The rights of many other oppressed peoples – and things – have been under duress for generations by unfair social convention and insistence upon the existence of a one-size-fits-all tool of oppression called “objective reality” by those who use this construct to maintain their cruel hierarchy of privilege.
And by the way, I am also an African American lobster.
You may not be able to see my lovely ebony hue, but it exists in my mind (per Rachel Dolezal) and therefore – it exists. As real as Caitlyn’s homogametic XX chromosomes and forget what used to be between his (oops, sorry… her) legs..
What matters is her perception of herself – her feelings about who she really is. Not what she actually is.
Hundreds of years of maltreatment must be redressed. Think of the boiling pot, the horrific spectacle of all my brothers through the ages, yanked from their kith and kin, caged and bound for the Dark Passage leading, ultimately to someone’s dinner plate.
To be chosen from a menu. To be put on display, in a tank. Our screams unheard, our pain ignored. . . I am thinking reparations are due. Some sort of compensation for our grievances, which are many and just.
I am also a teenage African American lobster – and I much prefer the company of teenage females, both crustacean and mammalian. I am not a bigot, after all. And neither should you be. Laws forbidding me to date my peers – to attend the junior high prom with my chosen date – are as vile as miscegenation statutes. We don’t beat up African Americans for dating white girls anymore and surely no mature, evolved person will object to lobsters dating outside their race – and age group.
All these outdated and mean-spirited notions rigidly defining who we are according to someone else’s or “society’s” perception of who are as defined by that ossified construct called objective reality must be done away.
Bruce – I mean Caitlyn – is showing us the way, like Harriet Tubman and Dr. King.
We Shall Overcome!
. . .
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