Aside from the week I spent with my Twitter profile locked as “Dawn Shift,” a very attractive AI generated blonde, I was never trans. I do have some deep connections with it.
As a young teen, I learned that a distant uncle was actually an aunt. Apparently, she felt more like a boy than a girl (a tomboy) growing up on Navy bases across the world and that her parents wanted a second son. I’ll note at this point that all of this began 30-40 years ago, which may surprise some of you.
She de-transitioned and took care of my grandparents until the end. While the surgeries she went were minimal and cosmetic, she never looked or sounded like a woman again. The years of hormones had done their damage and she looked more like a bad transvestite than a woman. The program that she used to de-transition was a Christian-based one and now is illegal in many states. My aunt died of natural causes not long ago having dedicated the remainder of her life helping those de-transitioning.
In college over a decade ago, I had very close female friend and classmate. She had been molested in her youth and unsurprisingly considered herself a lesbian/bisexual. Some time after we became friends she began revealing a curiosity about masculine features. As a butch, this wasn’t shocking. Plenty of guys have wondered what it would be like to have boobs.
Sadly, this curiosity about what having body hair and a mustache or beard grew from harmless speculation into something malignant. She fell under the influence of a radical leftist lesbian professor who encouraged my friend’s delusions. Over the years my friend spent more and more time with the LGBT circle on campus and her fascination with masculinity grew. In today’s parlance we would say she was being groomed.
At graduation, the furthest she took it was dressing up like a guy with a fake mustache at Halloween and not shaving her legs. The last time I saw her, a year or two after graduation, she announced she was formally transitioning to a man. There was no dissuading her from it; the die had already been cast and she was taking hormones. At the time, she would go as far as non-surgical interventions would take her.
I explained the story about my aunt. My friend was acting like transitioning was similar to putting on a costume that she could take off when she was satisfied with playing as a man. I begged and pleaded. “No, you can never come back all the way. It doesn’t work like that.” I might as well have been shouting in the wind. I never saw her again, the last thing I knew about her was that she went through with the transition to live as a man.
To this day, I have no idea about her fate. It’s strange to think that this woman was as close to me as a girlfriend is for all intents and purposes gone. Another woman in my life once wrote that “I don't want to believe that the important people in my life come and go with each chapter,” but in reality that is all too often the case.
Clearly my aunt and friend suffered from some sort of gender dysphoria brought on by psychological problems. A responsible psychiatrist would have explored the origin and source of those feelings to lead these women back to their femininity. While both of these stories started before the major transgender insanity in the last decade, the outcome was the same as if happened last year.
In my aunt’s case, she felt like she should be a boy because she was around a lot of them and did male things. Today tomboys face a huge risk of being told that because of their style, behavior, and preferences that they are not actually females and many fall into the transgender trap. How cruel it is to tell a woman that she must actually be a man because she likes male things!
For my friend, clearly being molested warped her mind. Child molestation is like a rat pissing inside a server rack. Things short out in unexpected ways and the behavior of the system is radically altered in unpredictable ways.
Though my friend had a girlfriend, she was indeed bisexual. Her lesbianism was a way for her altered psyche to “safely” satisfy her need for romantic love and sexuality that avoided her trauma. Her obsession with masculinity—the body hair, penises, mustaches and beards, deep voices—this was a malignant manifestation of her heterosexuality. All that “curiosity” was her wanting a man but some pervert fucked up her mind which was further warped by the LGBT cult.
The proper term for this disorder is autoandrophilia (autogynophilia for male-to-female); sexual arousal at being a man. Several theories exist on why this is, one mainly looking at male transvestites with a leading proposed cause being looking at too much porn and imaging oneself as the woman. In my friend’s case, the abuse in all likelihood perverted her sexuality, suppressing her innate heterosexuality. The story is all too common among homosexuals, though it appears homosexuality is a combination of factors that doesn’t necessarily involve sexual abuse.
So what my friend was really expressing through her interest wasn’t a desire to become a man—it was a desire to be with a man. Only because of the damage done that desire was looked like a cancerous tumor. Rather than steer her to an honest professional who could help her process the trauma, her curiosity was stoked until it became a desire to be a man. The delusional LGBT cult only furthered a descent into what any other generation would have considered madness.
In looking back, there was little I could do to save her. Every time we discussed sexuality, I might have gotten further by jumping off the roof. Despite our ideological differences, I remained a loyal friend until adulthood separated us. Hell, I treated her better than I did my actual girlfriends. This poor, hurt, damaged, and unloved woman was eaten by a hungry, Satanic ideology right before my eyes.
The LGBT agenda isn’t about accepting one’s faults or sins and living the best healthy life possible under the circumstances. Rather, homosexuality and it’s associates have become so ingrained in the identity of these people that any challenge to it is a personal attack on their very being. For some, their delusion has become too ingrained to shake loose. For others, the trauma has so altered their psyche that they cannot confront the pain and reality. The based gay person who gets it is far and few in between.
I hope my friend is not one of the approximately 40% of trans people who kill themselves. I hope that she and others see that the false choice of being unable to stop or turn around and go back is just lies. The alternatives on either side of the path being death is just an illusion.
Note: this an adaptation from my non-fiction book Suburban Warfare: A cop's guide to surviving a civil war, SHTF, or modern urban combat, available on Amazon.