One Christmas, when I was about 6 years old, I got a toy gun, a Mattel “Fanner 50”.
Before we go further and you berate my parents for getting me a toy gun, consider that this was 1960, westerns were very much a staple of prime-time TV, and most families in the USA owned at least one gun. Like it or not, that’s how it was.
This toy gun was made of plastic and some light metal, but it all looked like shiny chrome.
Each time it was cocked, the cylinder rotated, just like a real gun.
It also had “ammunition” to load into the cylinder, just like a real gun.
Pulling the trigger dropped the hammer on replaceable paper caps which were glued onto the rear of the ammunition (where real ammunition would be struck).
The odd thing was, I knew what real guns and ammunition were like, because my parents had some and let me fire them at the shooting range. They were solid metal, and heavy.
I knew my ammunition was fake, but…as time went on, I gradually came to believe that my gun would fire real ammunition if I had some and loaded it…
No, I didn’t try it; my parents had no 50 caliber ammunition. But I persisted in my belief that it could.
After all, it looked real. The ammunition looked real. It must be true…except for one thing:
The one thing I couldn’t get around was the bar through the barrel; a short metal side-to-side bar which blocked the muzzle (this was before toy guns had red tips).
I’d pick it up and look into the muzzle: how could a bullet come through there with that bar in the way?
Then one day, my thoughts clicked like a real gun, and I saw clearly; My gun was a toy. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t fire real ammunition. It was a well-made, imaginative toy, but…just a toy.
Rather than disappointment, I was surprised by the feeling of relief I got when this issue was finally resolved.
All the facts aligned now. Reality was comforting.
And I knew that someday, I would own a real gun.
So, where do genders come in?
Some people feel like they live in a body which doesn’t match their “true” or “inner” sex. They call it “gender dysphoria” and it’s really nothing new.
Some want to have their body re-sculpted to match the sex that “feels right” to them. And thanks to modern medicine, several body parts and features can now be changed to resemble those of the opposite sex. Hair can be chemically made to grow in new places, or removed by electrolysis from old places. Breasts can be chemically generated or surgically removed. Voices can be lowered by hormones or raised by voice training. Even genitals can be simulated to varying degrees, shaped to look somewhat like their opposites, but making them functional remains elusive.
And these people think this will actually change their sex, or (in the current politically-correct jargon) “transition their gender”.
After all, they must be the opposite of what they were, right? Just look at them; anyone can see it.
But there’s one thing they can’t get around: the Y chromosome. You either have it, or you don’t.
If you have it, you’re male*; if not, you’re female.
And since it’s present – or absent – in all cells except red-blood cells, there’s no way to change it.
A metal bar blocking the muzzle.
Many people who opt for surgical “transition” wake up afterwards realizing their mistake
They may not say so directly, but too many say so by ending their own lives.
I think they would be best served to resolve their issues without surgery, so that all the facts would align, and they could find comfort in reality.
*Yes, I know about androgen insensitivity syndrome, where a genetic male (XY) is born with a body that looks female in every respect – at least until puberty. But their body is not fully functional, and not really female.
They don’t have a uterus;
They don’t have periods;
They don’t have ovaries, just misplaced internal testicles. They can’t ovulate. They certainly can’t bear children.
Their genetic blueprint to get a male body was not followed, due to a lack of receptors for testosterone.
Sometimes life deals us a hand of tough cards.
Clover 