What appears to be a perfectly natural and normal sexual identity has now become nothing more than a social construct, thus enabling people endlessly to experiment with their biological being, juggling one or more genders at a time.
Our granddaughter, who is not yet four years of age, knows exactly what she wants to do with her life. “I want to be a carrot,” she announced the other day, “so people can put me in their salad.” “A pink carrot,” she added, “because pink is for girls. And I’m a girl!”
It turns out she also aspires to become a cupcake—the better to be eaten, I suppose—but, again, only if the color is pink.
What’s going on here? I mean, besides clear and endearing evidence of a lively imagination. Should we be concerned? Might there be a need for therapy? Only if the fixation persists long after childhood. If she’s twenty-something and still longs to be eaten, then maybe we should worry. But little girls identifying with carrots and cupcakes seems perfectly normal. Especially when they’re pink.
That’s the telling fact, by the way. Indeed, it is the truest and most instructive aspect about the whole business: the fact that she actually knows she’s a girl, having rightly intuited the single irreducible truth of her being, which is that she exists quite irrefutably as a girl. What else can that mean but that she isn’t a boy? She knows the difference, in other words, between the two. And she can be most wonderfully passionate and precise on the subject. Blue, she will repeatedly insist, is for boys, which is why she will refuse to wear anything that looks remotely blue.
How many adults are there who can make that distinction? Many appear these days to be so traumatized by woke ideology that they positively shrink from the distinction. Yes, even a couple of Supreme Court Justices have failed the test.
Is this an epistemological problem, I wonder? Do people simply not know the differences separating male and female? Did no one ever take them aside to provide basic instruction on how binary people routinely execute that distinction in real life, knowing instinctively where to draw the necessary biological line? That it is, in a word, ineluctable, which is to say, we are fated to be either one or the other?
“Anatomy is destiny,” declared Dr. Freud, who was surely right about something. And knowing it to be so is hardly an exercise in eccentricity on account of a transgender lobby that refuses to be at home in the body God gave them.
How effective the culture has been in bludgeoning people into submission on this point. So much so that what appears to be a perfectly natural and normal sexual identity has now become nothing more than a social construct, thus enabling people endlessly to experiment with their biological being, juggling one or more genders at a time.
We really are in an awful fix if the confusion reaches that deep down, if the extent of current social conditioning has become so pervasive that we lack the courage to define anything. All is fluidity and flux, leaving only one fixed and unalterable point, which is that everything must be permitted, including even the chemical castration of children.
