... can't be done with anger.
Driving over the Home Depot yesterday to buy bird seed for our ungrateful, gluttonous, local songbirds yesterday, I passed a forlorn girl on the corner of Balboa and Genesee holding a trans flag and a small, handwritten sign that read, "Trans rights are human rights." She looked pathetic. She was clearly on testosterone and wore one of the standard trans costumes - short hair and mannish clothes.
Having consumed too much Internet content filled with trans activists screaming their Lysenkoist hate and filled with latent bitterness because of my daughter's trans-self-destruction, my immediate reaction was anger. I wanted to yell at her like she was one of those people who was pushing the mutilation and poisoning of girls instead of what she was, one of their victims. Amped up on social media rage, I came up with all kinds of arguments and insults in my mind as I drove past her.
In retrospect, I should have parked nearby and talked to her calmly and lovingly. I should have asked her all of those questions I wish I'd asked my daughter when she came out to me as trans 3 years ago. I was gobsmacked back then and completely unprepared. I'm not now.
I had a chance to help someone and her parents and I didn't take it because I was full of anger and bitterness. Also because it was getting late and those winged swine were waiting around an empty birdfeeder.
"Made in the image of God" implies that everyone should have nearly equal* value to you. I might have been able to get her to see how mutilating and poisoning herself wasn't going to lead anywhere good and I didn't take it.
I won't miss that opportunity again. I'm writing this post to cement it in my head. I learn by writing and I'm hoping it sticks.
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| Look at those fat slobs stuffing their faces. Disgusting. |
* - Hey, let's not kid ourselves here, alright? Family counts for something. Consider it to be the first tie-breaker.
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