That’s A Dude!
We know that there is a man underneath the loud layers of feminine disguise. There is good old-fashioned seething misogyny hidden underneath the language of inclusivity, diversity, equality, kindness.
When any of us enter a room, we don’t shout we are women. It is self-evident. It’s done. It’s the lies that need all that screaming, all the theatre, all that effort, all that convincing and drama. All the emotional blackmailing. It’s the bullshit that requires noise, threats, lawsuits, manipulation, propaganda tactics and an army of lawyers in order to be accepted as a reality.
This is a real social media post: A man in women’s clothes is posing provocatively. The caption is saying: “...then I got misgendered twice at work, and later while walking my dog, a kid yelled “that’s a dude”! to his friends. Welcome back massive dysphoria”.
This one post is representative of so many, MANY out there. This guy’s supposedly sexy selfie is – in his mind - enough to have us think that all this doesn’t make any sense. The part that’s missing (and is represented by the three dots) implies that we ought to agree with him that, despite looking so damn sexy as a woman, he got “misgendered”, and that’s just outrageous. And cruel! The thing is, the only way we could mistake this guy for a woman is if we were blind and suffering from massive brain damage, or, of course, if we were pretty desperate to prove to the world how “progressive” we are. And this is where the problem with the trans movement lies: it’s being empowered – in fact, turbocharged - by the need so many people have to play along. To be judged as progressive and inclusive by pandering to any nonsense this self-proclaimed “persecuted” group is presenting as truth. And get their proper accolades for the fact.
The kid yelling “that’s a dude”, revealing the Emperor’s nakedness, was not transphobic, of course (any more than any of us are), but was FREE from the contemporary obligatory social convention to appear “kind”, by going along with a grown man’s self-fantasy. The kid, was free to point out the ridiculous, to say what so many others dare not, not because he was out to get the trans culture and bring it on its knees, but because he was not bound by the moronic, self-congratulatory etiquette of so many out there, who will religiously pretend that any man in a dress is in fact, a woman, despite incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. And declare “her” “beautiful”, “stunning” and let us not forget “brave!” on the spot too. And when this dude’s self-delusion is not acknowledged as a fact causing him distress, that’s not “gender dysphoria” either. That’s just reality knocking on his door.
Social media are crowded with similar selfies of middle-aged men in heavy make-up, posing coyly and proudly listing their complicated, hours-long beauty regimes that are supposed to hide their male nature, asking the world to validate them by telling them they are women. And asking us all to be “supportive” of them during their imaginary “periods” (which many of them appear to think are supposed to take place exclusively when there’s a Full Moon!); calling their male genitalia “girl dick” (even as they are threatening to rape women with it); asking to be included in gynecological tests; demanding that Genealogy / DNA test companies don’t mention to them that they have only one X chromosome (and of course, outing them as “trans-phobic” when they don’t falsify scientific documents to tailor their personal fantasies); giving each other tips on how to achieve their goal of becoming exaggerated caricatures of womanhood by piling on the make-up and the layers of self-deception. How to speak in a deliberately high voice to sound feminine (each sentence a theatrical play they’ve rehearsed. Each word a lie). How to swing the hips they don’t have. How to make “girl-talk” (what is that, I wonder in their male mind? Talking about nail polish and arranging pillow fights in their underwear?) How to carry themselves with the unmistakable, deliberate intention of someone who is aware that he is playing a role. And of course, how to sit in a more “ladylike” manner, mastering the high art of “crossing their legs without crushing their balls”. (One tip is to practice crossing their legs for a few minutes per day, working up to a few hours, until their “lady nuts” as they call them, get used to being flat… - See? You learn something every day…)
We empathise with the struggle. We understand that it must be exhausting! All this effort, all the lies, all the effects and affectations, all that deliberate crashing of balls. And the world still not bursting into spontaneous applause the minute they enter any room. Unless it is on social media, that is. Of course, they are angry. Of course, they are desperate. Of course, they are going to turn all that self-hate onto us, who are effortlessly and by Nature what they are trying to pretend to be and fail. Of course, it is maddening when they are told that they are a “dude” even by children. Of course, it is exhausting when the world doesn’t conspire on their behalf, even though I’m sure, as men, they have come to expect it. When not all of us are willing to play along and cater to their self-delusions. But the thing is, truth is effortless. Stark. It does not require manipulation, interpretation, or anyone’s participation in order to exist. It just exists whether you conspire against it or not. When any of us enter a room, we don’t shout we are women. It is self-evident. It’s done. It’s the lies that need all that screaming, all the theatre, all that effort, all that convincing and drama. All the emotional blackmailing. It’s the bullshit that requires noise, threats, lawsuits, manipulation, propaganda tactics and an army of lawyers in order to be accepted as a reality.
Yes, there is something magnificently stubborn about the truth. It just wants to come out, no matter how many measures human beings take to disguise it. Lies have a price that our bodies register, our spirits fight against: criminals bursting into voluntary confessions in the middle of interrogations, our inability to fool polygraphs, our quickened pulse, our altered breathing and heart rates, our blushing skins, our faces that bend into a multitude of micro-expressions that reveal our lying, etc., etc. We see it in trans identifying men calling themselves “women”. The truth that wants to come out.
We see their maleness. Even if we were to (somehow miraculously) fail to see their male bodies. We see their anger, their male privilege, their male misogyny, their male propensity to use violence – or at the very least the threat of it - against us. To silence us. To prioritise their own needs, to elbow us aside, to speak over us, to violate our rights, to simulate our suffering, to plagiarise our struggles, to grab our accolades, to mansplain our very nature, to invade our hard-won safe spaces, to vilify our motives, to use our biology as a weapon against us, to even appropriate our very definition. And (same as always) to create theories, ideologies that justify their reasons, canonise their desires, hallow their need to keep us in our place. To colonise an entire sex. We recognise it. We’ve seen it before. It is unmistakably familiar. And it’s so old, it’s practically archaic…
That is why we know that there is a man underneath the loud layers of feminine disguise. There is good old-fashioned seething misogyny hidden underneath the language of inclusivity, diversity, equality, kindness, acceptance, open-mindedness, intersectionality, progressive thinking, and tolerance. Because only a man could hate us with such intensity for simply speaking the truth. Only a man would threaten us with such ease, with such a degree of vehemence and desire to silence us. Only a man would see rape as the way to silence us. Only a man would work for our downfall with such a zealotic fervour. Simply for defending our place in the world. Because only a man would choose to attack a woman who uses words to defend herself, instead of other men who use actual violence against him!
And sadly, because only a man could fool so many (MANY!) of us to defend him to our own detriment…
Sorry - if you have a penis, you are not a woman. Putting on a wig, lipstick, and a dress doesn’t make you a woman any more than putting on antlers makes you a deer.
Superb post. Subscribed! Xxx