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From an anonymous sister~
THEY ARE MUTILATING LESBIANS
I have stopped going to a certain Starbucks in town these days. It is staffed by 2 or 3 young women who are transing. They are obvious lesbians to me. I am also a lesbian.
THEY ARE MUTILATING LESBIANS
I have stopped going to a certain Starbucks in town these days. It is staffed by 2 or 3 young women who are transing. They are obvious lesbians to me. I am also a lesbian.
I can't stand to see what they are doing to their bodies.
But today I left work early and grabbed a latte there because it was handy. There's no drive-thru and I found myself darting into the premises with a feeling of dread.
But today I left work early and grabbed a latte there because it was handy. There's no drive-thru and I found myself darting into the premises with a feeling of dread.
The young lesbian on testosterone was at the counter again. Two other servers are also transing lesbians. I can tell they would have been young butch lesbians in any other era. I can tell because I was a young butch lesbian in this hating world once.
I was just one of the lucky ones to not be around at the time of transcult.
Their voices have a strange pubescent ring to them that isn't right in a tonal way. Their arms are women's arms. Their jawlines are women's jawlines. Their voices crack and give them away. I can't imagine that anyone would think they are men.
Pretty certain, too, that the one lesbian has had a mastectomy. As she gets my latte, I notice her feet. They are small. Her legs are female. Everything screams 'woman, female, lesbian' to me.
The horror of knowing they are lesbians who think they are men due to the current contagion of transactivism makes it hard to be there. I look around as I leave and 3 of their transing lesbian friends are sitting at a booth. They are clearly butch lesbians to me.
Imagine my horror and discomfort at seeing all of these young women---my kind, if you will---destroying their bodies. Permanently. Cross-sex hormones, puberty blockers, binders, mastectomies. How is it brave to hate yourself that much?
I wonder what they think of me as I go up to the counter, all proud and real and butch and unselfconscious about it? Today I had a faded pair of Buffalo jeans on and a black t-shirt. Had black military-style hiking boots on. Might as well have a tattoo of 'BUTCH' ...
...across my forehead, really.
Guess I'm some kind of dinosaur to them. A remnant of some ancient group who thought that being who they were and learning to accept and love themselves was brave. Today it's not cool. Butch lesbian isn't cool.
Guess I'm some kind of dinosaur to them. A remnant of some ancient group who thought that being who they were and learning to accept and love themselves was brave. Today it's not cool. Butch lesbian isn't cool.
Yet, I could have sworn---as I handed over my payment--- that she seemed a bit ashamed, you know. Her eyes glanced away from mine. She looked a bit sheepish. Maybe she knows somewhere deep inside that I am who she cannot accept inside her own heart.
A lesbian. A butch lesbian, at that. Comfortable in her own skin. Right out there to anyone who has a clue. Not hiding or pretending to be anyone but who I am. I wonder, if for just that brief moment, she had just a little regret or shame in her eyes?
Dinosaur that I am, wishing that she could just look in the mirror one day and be courageous enough to live her life as she is. Butch. Lesbian. Proud.
In spite of how much the world hates her. Hates us
#BeBrave
#BeAButchWoman
In spite of how much the world hates her. Hates us
#BeBrave
#BeAButchWoman
