When I came to work today, I left my skirt and blouse on the hanger, and just wore my underwear. Well, part of it. I wore my panties so those who chose to wear underwear could see that I was inclusive of people wearing underwear. I skipped my bra to demonstrate my celebration of those who chose to go without. You see, it’s my job to make everyone around me happy and to feel accepted.
I hung my name tag around my neck because I had no place to pin it. I’d included my pronouns beneath my name to show those with whom I interacted how inclusive I am of diversity, even though it made me look like an ass.
But – this is not a case for levity. This forced declaration of being something contrary to what God figured out when the sperm and egg combined, is beyond ludicrous; it is dangerous. It is an outward manifestation of our society’s adoption of subversive ideology spawned and promulgated by people and movements out to destroy our country. You may say it is subtle, and of no concern, but it is insidious, vicious and toxic.
Stating your pronouns is one more deadly achievement in transforming society and our country into something we are not: Sheep. Or, are we?
That is the question. Are we going to continue down this path of cowardice and virtue-signaling, endorsing that which we dislike, fearing to say, “Enough is enough!” Is everyone turning a blind eye to the Cancel Culture movement while they eliminate objects and people that do not adhere to the doctrine? Where’s the book burning?
Let me ask some questions: Do you really care what another person does with their life, their body, their attire, or their pronouns? Do you care whether or not their skin is pink, purple, green or tan? If a man wants to be “Queen for a Day”, does that bother you? If a woman feels uncomfortable in a girl’s body, do we have to be involved? We can be kind. We can be accepting of differences. We do not have to celebrate them.
When I meet a person, I do not expect them to worry about my gender preference. Nor do I expect them to celebrate my whiteness. And if they tower over me, I don’t expect them to crumple to their knees or to avoid words that reference people of diminutive stature. I’m white, female, and five feet tall. I’m always shoved to the front in a group photograph; am I being targeted? Is that distinction a microaggression?
I don’t want to celebrate your hairstyle, your color, or the gender choice you made when you crawled out of bed this morning. I’m going to assess you on your personality, intelligence, behavior and merits. If I like those things about you, I’m going to like you.
My parents raised me by the old adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” Most of us were raised to be strong, believe in ourselves, follow our star, and withstand words that sometimes hurt. We were taught to be independent, set our own goals, and persevere.
The creation and fostering of the Snowflake mentality is eviscerating our culture. We are forcing people to be wilting violets and pathetic whiners. Once you start down the slippery slope of victimhood, trying to eliminate all hurt feelings, there is no bottom.