How, thanks to Political Correctness, I can now be my best womanly self
In several countries including the UK and parts of the USA, male prisoners have been reassigned to all-female prisons simply because they’ve declared themselves to be women. No doctor’s note, surgery, or hormone treatment is necessary. In one case a multiple rapist was transferred to a women’s prison and assaulted several inmates thanks to his mere statement that “I identify as female now.”
If you want to learn more about this, by the way, here’s a great Medium article on the topic.
Meanwhile female athletes are being trounced by larger and stronger men who, partly it seems for the sake of winning medals, now identify as women.
Welcome to the wonderful world of Political Correctness.
If you think there’s something rather bizarre about a situation in which self-proclaimed social justice warriors have created an environment that actively discriminates against the vast majority of XX chromosome women, you might be right.
But so what?
Frankly, as a sixty-one-year-old man, I’m delighted by this turn of events. As pioneered more than forty years ago by Loretta of The Life Of Brian fame, I demand recognition of my right to be a woman. And I demand the right to have babies even if I can’t, actually, have them.
But most importantly, I demand the right to compete in the women’s section of martial arts tournaments. Because, let’s face it, even though I’m in pretty darned good shape for a man of my age, I’m not going to win against those twenty-somethings. Unless I can compete against twenty-something women, in which case hold the podium for me please.
Thanks to the wonders of Political Correctness a whole new world is open to me. Merely by declaring that I identify as a woman, an employer can register me as such and thus improve their diversity score. Better yet, if I identify as an African-American-Native-Indian-Woman I can tick many diversity boxes all at once and thus further my chances of being employed for my superior box-ticking potential. And as a self-declared woman I can interrupt anything being said by a male superior on the grounds that it’s just mansplaining, even if they’re trying to tell me that I’ve accidentally set my lunch on fire in the microwave.
Because as a woman I know perfectly well how to use a microwave, thank you very much.
Better yet, as a woman I am responsible for my own pleasure and no one else’s. As a man, my partner might complain if I entered, came, and left in a minute or less. But as a woman, I’m simply trying to bridge the orgasm gap. Sure, the other woman may be dissatisfied but she’s responsible for her own orgasm and can’t blame me for, as a woman myself now, prioritizing mine. And if she tries, I’ll point out that she’s trying to shame me for my open acceptance of my sexuality and thus reinforcing Patriarchal norms.
Checkmate, I think.
All in all I must say I’m tremendously satisfied with the outcome of all this social warrior activism. The unrelenting promotion of edge-cases at the expense of the great majority has happily resulted in a world that is begging to be exploited by the unscrupulous. A category which now gleefully includes me.
Step aside Emmeline Pankhurst, Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, Ruth Bader-Ginsburg, and make way for a real (wo)man.