Transgenderism - A Thread of Its Own
- Thread starter Tim Steelersfan
- Start date
"Why do you care so much?! JFC!"
//Flogtard
And once again, elites in the media class and public officials are so terrified of offending that they don’t dare ask the obvious question: Why are so many of the most horrifying attacks carried out by people who identify as “trans”?
After Canada suffered one of its deadliest school massacres Tuesday, police identified the biologically male shooter as 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar — noting that he began to transition six years ago.
That’s right: another deadly attack by someone who is transgender.
Yet the elites go to lengths to avoid any suggestion of a linkage.
Heck, many news outlets won’t even admit Van Rootselaar is biologically male, referring to him only as a woman.
Skirting the elephant in the room isn’t caution or a mere oversight: It’s cowardice — one we ignore at everyone’s peril.
The tragedy in British Columbia is not an isolated incident.
Over the past several years, a disturbing number of mass attacks have involved individuals who identified as transgender.
In Nashville, a transgender-identified shooter murdered six people at a Christian school.
In Minneapolis, another attacker with documented gender-identity turmoil targeted a church.
The alleged murderer of Charlie Kirk had transgender associations and beliefs.
Yet the media insist that violence by mentally ill people and their transgender identity is mere coincidence.
Critics are bullied into silence, warned not to “stigmatize.”
The public is lied to in an attempt to force us to avert our eyes.
Yet when journalists knowingly discard biological reality and gloss over the link to mental health, they don’t just mislead readers; they actively interfere with our ability to understand reality, and therefore, assess danger.
For years, the public has been told that identifying as the opposite sex is simply another harmless expression of one’s self-identity.
Questioning it is dangerous, cruel — “bigotry.” Exploring whether transgender identity may signal deeper psychological distress is forbidden.
Professionals who dare to raise concerns are threatened with loss of their licenses, professional reputation and livelihood.
That dogma has consequences, as another community has learned the hard way.
Let’s admit it: Believing you’re the opposite of your biological sex is simply not a normal, or neutral, position.
It’s quite likely often a sign of some kind of psychological distress — perhaps accompanied by depression, dissociation, autism spectrum disorders, self-harm, suicidal ideation and extreme social isolation.
That doesn’t mean every person with gender dysphoria is violent or even deeply sick.
But it does mean that when young people are spiraling, we shouldn’t ignore the signs — or worse, affirm their delusions.
Alas, mental health professionals insist we do just that.
And after each case in which a perp is ID’d as transgender, there’s the same response: frantic efforts to minimize identity, sanitize language and insist nothing meaningful could possibly be learned from focusing on the attacker’s sexual orientation.
Yet the common denominator isn’t even identity; again, it’s untreated — or mistreated — mental illness.
Patterns don’t disappear because they make us uncomfortable.
In a small Canadian town today, families are grieving. Yet officials and journalists try to edit reality so no one feels uncomfortable.
This is not compassion. It’s criminal.
If someone denies basic biological truths about themselves, that is evidence of distress — not a brave new identity to be endlessly affirmed.
And pumping vulnerable teenagers full of hormones and psychotropic drugs could exacerbate their distress.
Silencing doctors who raise concerns does not improve outcomes.
Constantly telling those who ID as trans that they’re under attack, let alone that they have to take up arms to defend themselves from abuse and violence, is all but programming them to lash out.
All of this ensures a reckoning.
Every time the media refuse to report plainly, every time officials tiptoe around obvious facts, every time ideology is allowed to override common sense, we invite another tragedy.
And then we’ll hear the same hollow refrain: There were no warning signs.
Yet there were signs; we just weren’t allowed to take note of them.
Until we can speak these truths, we will keep lighting candles, burying innocents and lying to ourselves about why this keeps happening.
And that may be the most dangerous delusion of all.
//Flogtard
The media need to stop gaslighting us about the reality of trans mass shooters
Another mass shooting, and another devastated community.And once again, elites in the media class and public officials are so terrified of offending that they don’t dare ask the obvious question: Why are so many of the most horrifying attacks carried out by people who identify as “trans”?
After Canada suffered one of its deadliest school massacres Tuesday, police identified the biologically male shooter as 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar — noting that he began to transition six years ago.
That’s right: another deadly attack by someone who is transgender.
Yet the elites go to lengths to avoid any suggestion of a linkage.
Heck, many news outlets won’t even admit Van Rootselaar is biologically male, referring to him only as a woman.
Skirting the elephant in the room isn’t caution or a mere oversight: It’s cowardice — one we ignore at everyone’s peril.
The tragedy in British Columbia is not an isolated incident.
Over the past several years, a disturbing number of mass attacks have involved individuals who identified as transgender.
In Nashville, a transgender-identified shooter murdered six people at a Christian school.
In Minneapolis, another attacker with documented gender-identity turmoil targeted a church.
The alleged murderer of Charlie Kirk had transgender associations and beliefs.
Yet the media insist that violence by mentally ill people and their transgender identity is mere coincidence.
Critics are bullied into silence, warned not to “stigmatize.”
The public is lied to in an attempt to force us to avert our eyes.
Yet when journalists knowingly discard biological reality and gloss over the link to mental health, they don’t just mislead readers; they actively interfere with our ability to understand reality, and therefore, assess danger.
For years, the public has been told that identifying as the opposite sex is simply another harmless expression of one’s self-identity.
Questioning it is dangerous, cruel — “bigotry.” Exploring whether transgender identity may signal deeper psychological distress is forbidden.
Professionals who dare to raise concerns are threatened with loss of their licenses, professional reputation and livelihood.
That dogma has consequences, as another community has learned the hard way.
Let’s admit it: Believing you’re the opposite of your biological sex is simply not a normal, or neutral, position.
It’s quite likely often a sign of some kind of psychological distress — perhaps accompanied by depression, dissociation, autism spectrum disorders, self-harm, suicidal ideation and extreme social isolation.
That doesn’t mean every person with gender dysphoria is violent or even deeply sick.
But it does mean that when young people are spiraling, we shouldn’t ignore the signs — or worse, affirm their delusions.
Alas, mental health professionals insist we do just that.
And after each case in which a perp is ID’d as transgender, there’s the same response: frantic efforts to minimize identity, sanitize language and insist nothing meaningful could possibly be learned from focusing on the attacker’s sexual orientation.
Yet the common denominator isn’t even identity; again, it’s untreated — or mistreated — mental illness.
Patterns don’t disappear because they make us uncomfortable.
In a small Canadian town today, families are grieving. Yet officials and journalists try to edit reality so no one feels uncomfortable.
This is not compassion. It’s criminal.
If someone denies basic biological truths about themselves, that is evidence of distress — not a brave new identity to be endlessly affirmed.
And pumping vulnerable teenagers full of hormones and psychotropic drugs could exacerbate their distress.
Silencing doctors who raise concerns does not improve outcomes.
Constantly telling those who ID as trans that they’re under attack, let alone that they have to take up arms to defend themselves from abuse and violence, is all but programming them to lash out.
All of this ensures a reckoning.
Every time the media refuse to report plainly, every time officials tiptoe around obvious facts, every time ideology is allowed to override common sense, we invite another tragedy.
And then we’ll hear the same hollow refrain: There were no warning signs.
Yet there were signs; we just weren’t allowed to take note of them.
Until we can speak these truths, we will keep lighting candles, burying innocents and lying to ourselves about why this keeps happening.
And that may be the most dangerous delusion of all.
Ouch.
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This is appalling and sad to read, but needs to be read. An OpEd from a detransitioner.
We both felt different, out of place in society. Born 10 years earlier, we would have been called tomboys. Instead, we writhed under the pressure of the “female role.” The internet told us the logical conclusion of that struggle was to identify as boys.
I come from a broken home. While my mother and stepfather always loved me, my stepfather became severely disabled when I was 3, leaving me feeling as though I had to raise myself. I eventually reached out to my biological father around a decade later. When he and my stepmother saw my distress—and were told by a psychiatrist that this distress was related to my transgender identity—they began to consider the benefits of affirming me in my transition.
Too young to vote or drink, I became immersed in the idea that hormones and surgeries would fix me. At the transgender support group I attended, most of the focus was on who was starting hormones and how it was going for them. I was envious—I wanted the same feelings of affirmation they had. Many of them were on hormones prescribed by a nurse practitioner who attended the group.
When I was 17, I went with my stepmother to see that nurse practitioner, who prescribed testosterone and estrogen blockers 30 minutes later. These hormones were one of the many medical interventions I pursued in my teens. At 19, I had “top surgery”—a euphemism for an elective double mastectomy. My surgeon made sure to facilitate my physical transition as much as possible, spoon-feeding me talking points for insurance coverage. I donned rainbow hair, medical knee braces and prescription compression socks to my surgery date. I was on more than 10 different medications when I went under the knife.
After this surgery, I suffered major complications. I had severe bruising all down my rib cage, along my sides and on my chest. My surgeons repeatedly dismissed me when I came to them with these problems.
Eventually, I sought care at a local emergency room, where hospital personnel told me only breast oncology would see me. These doctors were kind—used to working with vulnerable women. The realization that I had been gaslit sunk in as I watched them cut my scars back open, empty out nearly three cups of blood, and sew in Penrose drains.
I made the decision to face who I really was—without the medicine, without the hormones or additional surgeries—six months after this experience. While taking classes at the University of Texas at Austin, I began to make sense of my transgender identity through the lens of human development. Piecing together my turbulent family life and adolescent internet habits, among other things, it dawned on me that I had never been “born in the wrong body.” There was no way to be born in the wrong body at all.
Today, at 23, I’m giving myself the grace to understand my gifts and purpose. Through this journey of self-exploration I have come to realize how coercive gender-identity ideology was for me, disguising harm as compassion. I also realized that sometimes the compassionate response is the one that sets firm boundaries.
When I sued my medical providers in 2023, holding the line between helping and enabling was my aim. In Texas, the statute of limitations for medical malpractice claims is generally two years from the date the malpractice occurred. Unfortunately, people disagree about whether “malpractice” refers to the action itself or the harm the action causes. My legal team and I are arguing that it’s the harm the action causes that matters.
As a seventh-generation Texan, going before the Supreme Court of Texas was never something I saw myself doing—let alone doing because I listened to my doctors. Yet here I am. The state high court heard oral arguments in my case on Wednesday.
I’d like to think that these days I’m realistic. I know how the law works. My case could still fail for reasons that have nothing to do with what happened to me. What I experienced at the hands of my nurse practitioner, therapist and surgery team was wrong. People like me deserve justice. I believe that God places burdens on people who can carry them, and I trust that whatever comes next will be made right in time.
What I Suffered Being ‘Transgender’
I’m suing the people who did this to me, and the Texas Supreme Court heard my case this week.
When I was 11, I began identifying as transgender. I had gone down a rabbit hole of websites and niche online forums. There I met a friend—an artist who was 14—whom I admired and looked up to.We both felt different, out of place in society. Born 10 years earlier, we would have been called tomboys. Instead, we writhed under the pressure of the “female role.” The internet told us the logical conclusion of that struggle was to identify as boys.
I come from a broken home. While my mother and stepfather always loved me, my stepfather became severely disabled when I was 3, leaving me feeling as though I had to raise myself. I eventually reached out to my biological father around a decade later. When he and my stepmother saw my distress—and were told by a psychiatrist that this distress was related to my transgender identity—they began to consider the benefits of affirming me in my transition.
Too young to vote or drink, I became immersed in the idea that hormones and surgeries would fix me. At the transgender support group I attended, most of the focus was on who was starting hormones and how it was going for them. I was envious—I wanted the same feelings of affirmation they had. Many of them were on hormones prescribed by a nurse practitioner who attended the group.
When I was 17, I went with my stepmother to see that nurse practitioner, who prescribed testosterone and estrogen blockers 30 minutes later. These hormones were one of the many medical interventions I pursued in my teens. At 19, I had “top surgery”—a euphemism for an elective double mastectomy. My surgeon made sure to facilitate my physical transition as much as possible, spoon-feeding me talking points for insurance coverage. I donned rainbow hair, medical knee braces and prescription compression socks to my surgery date. I was on more than 10 different medications when I went under the knife.
After this surgery, I suffered major complications. I had severe bruising all down my rib cage, along my sides and on my chest. My surgeons repeatedly dismissed me when I came to them with these problems.
Eventually, I sought care at a local emergency room, where hospital personnel told me only breast oncology would see me. These doctors were kind—used to working with vulnerable women. The realization that I had been gaslit sunk in as I watched them cut my scars back open, empty out nearly three cups of blood, and sew in Penrose drains.
I made the decision to face who I really was—without the medicine, without the hormones or additional surgeries—six months after this experience. While taking classes at the University of Texas at Austin, I began to make sense of my transgender identity through the lens of human development. Piecing together my turbulent family life and adolescent internet habits, among other things, it dawned on me that I had never been “born in the wrong body.” There was no way to be born in the wrong body at all.
Today, at 23, I’m giving myself the grace to understand my gifts and purpose. Through this journey of self-exploration I have come to realize how coercive gender-identity ideology was for me, disguising harm as compassion. I also realized that sometimes the compassionate response is the one that sets firm boundaries.
When I sued my medical providers in 2023, holding the line between helping and enabling was my aim. In Texas, the statute of limitations for medical malpractice claims is generally two years from the date the malpractice occurred. Unfortunately, people disagree about whether “malpractice” refers to the action itself or the harm the action causes. My legal team and I are arguing that it’s the harm the action causes that matters.
As a seventh-generation Texan, going before the Supreme Court of Texas was never something I saw myself doing—let alone doing because I listened to my doctors. Yet here I am. The state high court heard oral arguments in my case on Wednesday.
I’d like to think that these days I’m realistic. I know how the law works. My case could still fail for reasons that have nothing to do with what happened to me. What I experienced at the hands of my nurse practitioner, therapist and surgery team was wrong. People like me deserve justice. I believe that God places burdens on people who can carry them, and I trust that whatever comes next will be made right in time.
Zippertits. I like it.
