A woman walks into the psychiatrist’s office. “I don’t know, doc,” she says, “I guess the problem is I’m just not sure who I am.”
“Hmmm,” says the eager physician. “Do you feel like a man trapped inside a woman’s body? “No,” replies the confused woman. “I imagine my son might have said that, however … until he was born, that is.” Get it?
There is no shortage of confused people in this world. That’s sad enough as it is. What’s worse is the fact that we are living in a time and society where such confusion is actually enabled and encouraged by the very people who are supposed to know better; the “experts.”
Think you’re Napoleon Bonaparte? You need counseling. Convinced your left arm is an alien sent to destroy you? Take this medication to alleviate your delusion. Tell people you’re actually a woman despite the genitalia God gave you, a la Bruce Jenner? Well, when do you want your surgery?
It’s the HATERS out there (read: people with common sense) who need an attitude adjustment, say the PC police.
Think I’m kidding? Just a few months ago, I read in a major pediatric medical publication that, unbeknownst to me, I have been guilty of at least one sin thousands of times over the past 20 years. The crime? “Assigning” babies a gender.
That’s right, though every high school freshman who has taken biology can tell you that — in all but extremely rare cases — a male has XY chromosomes and a readily apparent sex organ, the reality is even our gender is up for grabs, it seems.
It’s the same mentality that resulted in what used to be called Gender Identity Disorder now being labeled the kinder and gentler Gender Dysphoria.
The problem, they say, is with how the person (and society) handles the situation, not with the fact that they cannot recognize the sex that they are. Putting a dress on or rearranging your anatomy, however, does not change your sex, regardless of what Dr. Drew says. The medical community, unfortunately, refuses to help such people. That’s sad.
Common sense used to be just a rare commodity; now it’s darn near criminal. How did we get here? Where does it end?
I would say it will all come unraveling once someone makes a REALLY outrageous claim. You know, like trying to convince everyone that they are a race or ethnicity other than what they are.
“No way!” you object. “That’s crossing the line,” you say. I mean, Chico Marx played a hilarious Italian, but when he wasn’t in front of an audience or camera, I doubt he seriously thought he was anything other than an extremely talented New York Jew of German-French ancestry.
Then along comes Rachel Dolezal, a white woman working with the Spokane chapter of the NAACP, a woman of pure Scandinavian-European lineage, who “identifies as black.” Does that make her a minority? Will her children qualify for scholarships set aside for black Americans?
As crazy as all of this sounds, it was hilarious to watch all the politically correct pundits tripping over themselves to avoid saying what everyone was thinking: She’s nuts! Not so, say the experts. The problem, it seems, is ours, not hers.
Michael Artigues, a McComb pediatrician, writes regularly on family and social issues, or whatever strikes his fancy. “meus axilla” is Latin for “my armpit,” which he chose as the title of his blog in honor of his dad, who says that opinions are like armpits: everybody has them and everybody else’s stinks.
