Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other. -John Adams

It's very hard to find your own words - and you don't actually exist until you have your own words. -Dr. Jordan B. Peterson

...Male and female He created them. -Genesis 1:27 

After a seven-year hiatus with another Presidential election on the line - armed with a brand-new pair of reading glasses - it's time to break the silence.  

Looking through several of my previous posts, I'm impressed with the thoughtfulness, the attention to detail, and (surprising myself) the glimmers of wit and brevity as someone closer to her college graduation.  It's been almost two decades, now, since that occasion.  The eyes have gone a little dimmer; the skin, a few more wrinkles and dimples.  A surgery or two with scars.  Many Tough Mudders under my belt.  Four growing children, one who can vote by my side in November.  Too few words read, even fewer originally written.

But even then, what I read and wrote during a worldwide pandemic was so important, its impact cannot be overstated.  I found a community during the pandemic and we activated peacefully, locally, and strongly.  I earned some hateful insults ("grandma-killer" and "not-a-doctor" being two of my personal favorites, although sorely lacking in imagination).  The quiet observation of how a school board operates, admiring its processes but also observing how quickly it can turn against the public (unlike myself who was only nearly arrested, radio show host Shannon Joy was arrested during a school board meeting in New York for an improperly fitted mask.  She's currently pursuing legal action). 

And there's some wisdom acquired, too - not much, but enough to break silence and start existing (here, at least - ask my kids and husband based on Dr. Peterson's advice, I'm very much well in existence at home).

The two above quotes struck me not for the applicability to today's times, but also how they'd likely piss off a lot of people I know.  There are things I don't bring up during the holidays because I respect the peace my family enjoys.  But the other day during conversation with a friend about the general temperature of the country with gender "theory," I mentioned I'd come to know someone who had become a "transwidow" (a woman whose husband is no longer a man).

No one really addresses how the wife feels, I said while my friend listened.  It really is like losing a family member.  They even have a name for calling someone by their previous name - 'deadnaming'! 

Now in places like Canada and the UK, there is a concentrated effort pass laws to jail those who use wrong pronouns.

Now there are men taking victories from women at every level of sport. 

Trans-identifying male convicts (some violent) are being jailed alongside women in women's prisons - even with those who have been abused in the past and fear for their safety.

Then I said something somewhat out of character for me:  My gender is not for dressing up.  Just as people take offense to Blackface, I take huge offense at womanface. 

I'm not someone who is accustomed or adept at hot takes.  It's one reason I never really took a liking to X (formerly Twitter) because of the character limit.  Even though the char limit has been basically removed, I've never enjoyed the wit and brevity that some tend to have in spades.  I like the deep dives, the philosophical analyses, the jab and parry of ideas that simmer, not shock. 

But womanface is exactly the word I'd use to describe men who confuse themselves for women, and how men are able to enter into women-only spaces where we are quite literally naked and vulnerable.  We're in a country now where these men can claim to bleed, get sore breasts, and cramp.  We're where women in manface can claim that men get pregnant and have babies.  

So not only have men claimed bathrooms and periods, but now have claimed our wombs. 

The smaller vapid joys of womanhood - the makeup, the pretty dresses, the shoes, the sassiness - I didn't mind sharing that.  Whatever.  Fashions come, fashions go.  Makeup on, makeup off.  Drag queens love it.  I say enjoy it - that's not what makes a woman (although some could really fool you now, like those who were ironically defeated by a Catholic woman in the Miss Universe pageant). 

These men do not have to walk in a dark parking lot with keys clutched in hand, head on a swivel, with their parents' advice in their heads: keep alert, go straight to your car, do not dawdle. 

These men do not have to bear the burden of a sexual encounter gone wrong at the wrong time of the month (although babies are a glorious burden).  There's no morning sickness, no stretch marks, no counting baby's kicks, no OB/GYN visits, no Pap smears, no glucose tolerance tests for gestational diabetes, no kankles, no vaginal birth tears, no c-sections, no postpartum depression, no mastitis, no cracked nipples from breastfeeding.

These men do not have to bear the pains or the messiness of monthly cycles, the complex hormonal changes (and no, taking artificial hormones does not even come close to mimicking the organic hormonal cycle), the emotional burdens thereof, or the unique womanly burdens of healing from both regular and traumatic births, higher rates of eating disorders, perimenopause, hot flashes, or pelvic floor disorders.

Men don't get to lay claim to the fun, pretty parts of being a woman and leave the burdens to women.  At least with drag queens, we could get some entertainment out of it in an adult setting (although my bar is definitely higher than just slinging dead baby jokes around). But even that line is blurred when parents now take their kids to the shows.

My gender is not for your mental delusions.  It's time women took back what is fitting to us alone, because in order to enjoy the fruits of womanhood, we must also bear its burdens.  And men pretending to be women do none of that.

Whatever God has in store for this country in 2024, we likely deserve a leader much, much worse than a tripping, barely coherent, quadruple-jabbed dementia patient who should be in a home battling his nurses during his sun-downing hours and not trying to shake hands with an armless veteran while the sieve at the Southern Border makes the Great Replacement Theory look more like actual practice. 

More people need to turn to God.  There are a lot of Bible thumpers who don't do much other than thump, and thumping isn't doing squat in the spiritual war. The Great Experiment by our forefathers may indeed be coming to a disappointing, if predictable end.  Or it is just being rocked by predictable challenges as we accept more and more ridiculous premises like men can be women. 

Religious people, of those there are few, now more than ever after the pandemic; but I believed to be a time where at least most were moral.  Now, not so much - my time in public discourse has proven to be a place where many heartily enjoy embarrassing, aggressive, vulgar, and downright violent insults of especially women who simply don't agree with their ideas.  

By Dr. Peterson's criteria of words, their existence is amoral indeed.

May God have mercy on the United States this year and all years!

Tough Oats

Hello readers - it's been awhile, and I think I can explain. Between a much-needed vacation to see some friends in Seattle and some life-changing events here at our California Headquarters, I've pushed my poor blog to somewhere in the middle of the to-do list. I've had an article I wanted to blog about for a while, and am just getting to it now.

CNN's Glenn Beck is one of my preferred CNN writers, and last week's article on Michigan and Florida's poo-pooing about not being able to count their votes towards the Democratic primary was something I read with, admittedly, much glee. Glenn, thy name is parental justice!

Glenn's choice of words for telling Florida and Michigan that they had their chance was very simple: Too bad. You broke the rules, you sit in time-out. But my mother had a better name for it: Tough oats. Did your mom ever say that to you? There was probably some two-word phrase that she might have used when withholding your dessert if you didn't finish your dinner. You didn't like the rules of the house? Tough oats. But Mom, can't I stay out until midnight tonight? Tough oats. You're embarrassed by that old fogey car that your father bought? Tough oats. (Side note: I ended up partially buying that old fogey car right after I got married.)

Isn't it strange how this country works? Most people in this country are looking to be able to have their vote and eat it, too. They want to have their voice heard, but when was the last time even 50% of the population showed up for an election? These delegates in MI and FL are charged with representing how the people vote in the state, but alas, the DNC made a few rules, and they broke them. It was all over the news; remember? Michigan and Florida held their primaries way too early, back in January. They flipped the proverbial bird to the parental figurehead of the Democrats, the DNC, and held primaries anyway. To which the DNC put their foot down and said: Well, go ahead. But your vote won't count. Tough oats; too bad.

Just recently, the DNC upheld their decision to not have a new primary in Florida, sending Brother Michigan and Sister Florida to their rooms to sit and think about what they've done, by giving up possibly the most exciting opportunity to participate in a Presidential primary such as this. What a bitter punishment!

What gets me even more is the fact that Sen. Clinton has asked for the primaries to be held in Florida later. Um, Senator? Do you realize you won that state? Of course you want those delegates; you're falling behind. In addition, Michigan did not have Sen. Obama on their ticket. His name wasn't even on the ballot! Do you think it might be fair for either Senator to go head-to-head in a face-off again?

Sure, it would make for some brilliant news. But what was done was done. Those two states made their choice to break the rules; fine. But just as the disobedient, pimpled teenager who breaks curfew on the weekends is stripped of their car and computer privileges, so goes for Michigan and Florida who now sit in their rooms, screaming "IT'S NOT FAIR!" to the DNC. And as all parents know, drawing the line in the sand is the best way to demonstrate between right and wrong, even if we're teaching the lesson to a bunch of adults who feel entitled otherwise.

Super Tuesday, Super Election

I know none of us can get away from the Presidential elections, but in all honesty, I have to pose this question: Has there been any election in the past decade (dare I say two decades?) that has garnered such coverage because we know that the Democratic party has made history by guaranteeing either a minority or female candidate in the final dash?

Let's face it, the election is starting to get somewhat exciting. There are candidates actively asking for my vote because I'm young (WASP-ish candidates never really cared for the young vote in times past - you always hear about the minority vote, the retired/elderly vote, and the female vote, even the working class vote, but no "youth vote.") As Super Tuesday approaches, and as I prepare to face the Republican poll machine, I'm already wrestling with this choice: How do I vote now if I decide to cross party lines in November?

I think this article in TIME shows that the primaries have changed, not only to make history for this country electing a minority or female President, but that there is someone in the election speaking specifically to the under-30 crowd. Someone who has Pennsylvania Ave. in their sights is telling me that my vote is important to them. No one's ever done that before. I feel so special!

All joking aside, though, I think this is also what Ron Paul had going for him on the Republican side, but he just doesn't have the star power that Obama does. He doesn't talk as smooth, either, but the man has appealed to youth by speaking with a fresh voice that doesn't use such politic-esque language, the same talking-head gibber-gabber that we've been accustomed to listening to since the discovery of newspaper, radio and television (and that's a freaking long time, dear readers.) Even when the words "gold standard" crept into references about Ron Paul, he was still able to raise startling amounts of money while clinging to the primaries, outlasting Rudy Giuliani and hoping to slough off some votes from the now-popular war hero McCain, smooth-coiffed Romney and conservative WASP-next-door Huckabee.

I remember in the 1980s my parents crossing party lines when they found out that Democrats were pro-choice, staunchly walking away from the liberal half and discovering that their once-liberal views weren't so liberal any more. I faced a similar decision once Bush was elected again and watched the body count tick higher and higher in Iraq and Afghanistan, but not because my once-conservative views weren't so conservative any more. Even after this election, I'm not so sure I want to be affiliated with either party.

But who did I have to choose from in the primaries since I was legally able to vote? Well, if I could have voted in 1996, I doubt I would have voted for Bob Dole, but that didn't matter, because there was the male Clinton, who was already in office when I turned 18, and was the sound favorite for reelection. After that, I've had the immense enjoyment of having to choose between Bush and, well, no one else in 2004; and McCain or Bush in 2000. To be honest, I have no clue who Alan Keyes was, and at 20 years of age, I had no interest in researching him, and so had crossed him off my list.

Perhaps this is why the youth vote has not been discovered until now. Presidential candidates and the under-30 crowd never were able to find a language they could speak together. If there was a campaign at a campus, they sure weren't at the one I was at, and I have an inkling that the only ones who cared were the ultra-conservative campus newspaper reporters and the college brass. But even I worked for the ultra-conservative newspaper and was more worried about securing pictures for the water polo match than figuring out who was getting my vote. But now, even if it's just a handful, there are Presidential hopefuls calling my name and telling me my vote is important to them - nay, that "we" are important and a crucial part of the election process. For Generation-Y, that's just the ego booster we need to begin caring about the elections.