When I was in fifth grade at Little Flower Catholic School outside Washington, D.C., I was a James Bond fanatic. I carried an attache case with a secret side knife (rubber, alas) and assemblable rifle inside like Bond did in From Russia with Love. I wanted the Aston Martin with retractable machine guns, oil-spouting exhaust, and ejector seat that Bond drove in Goldfinger, and the portable underwater mouth breather he used in Thunderball. Bond’s other accoutrements, beautiful women, seemed to me a distraction from his main purpose of being a suave, witty, lethal secret agent, so I tolerated them while awaiting his next feat. Wishing to share my enthusiasm with classmate pals, I brought a 007 fan magazine to school one day. Sure, it had photos of a bikinied Ursula Andress (Dr. No), Shirley Eaton (Goldfinger), and Claudine Auger (Thunderball) — and even some in bed with Bond — but who cared when others showed him electrocuting Oddjob in Fort Knox, rocketing off a balcony in a jetpack, or piloting a missile-firing mini-helicopter over Japan?
It turned out the Sisters of the Little Flower cared. Before I could say “Blofeld,” I got sent to the principal’s office to await my parents, who had presumably been notified that I was some sort of demon spawn.
Up to that instance, I didn’t know I was a sexual pervert. At age 11, I was two years older than the oldest kids to be affected by Florida’s new Parental Rights in Education bill, which the state Senate just passed and Gov. Ron DeSantis will soon sign into law, and perfectly content in my naïveté. It is the next generation’s innocence that progressives seek not only to deny but to pervert by hook and by crook. Thus they bray like hyenas and unanimously label the act the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, bolstered by their media acolytes.
The purpose of this narrative is to induce gender confusion at the earliest age possible and debilitate the Left’s most formidable obstacle, the nuclear family.
A quick scan of mainstream headlines finds them pushing only the fabricated term for the bill without mentioning its official title: “Why Florida’s ‘Don’t Say Gay’ Bill Has Caused a Nationwide Uproar” — the Week. “Florida House Passes Controversial ‘Don’t Say Gay’ Bill” — ABC News. “ ‘Don’t Say Gay’ Bill: Florida Senate Passes Law Marginalizing LGBTQ+ People” — the Guardian. “ ‘Don’t Say Gay’ Bill: Florida Senate Passes Controversial LGBTQ School Measure” — NBC News. This en bloc attempt at mass hypnosis exposes the Left’s desperation to indoctrinate children into its madness.
Fortunately, and typically, the indispensable governor of Florida, Ron DeSantis, is having none of this. Asked about the “Don’t Say Gay” bill last week by a Tampa TV reporter, DeSantis let him have it. “Does it say that in the bill? … Does it say that in the bill? … I’m asking you to tell me what’s in the bill because you’re pushing false narratives.” When the reporter said, “It bans class instruction on sexual identity and gender orientation,” DeSantis responded, “For who? For grades pre-K through three — so, five-year olds, six-year-olds, seven-year olds. The idea that you wouldn’t be honest about that and tell people what it actually says — it’s why people don’t trust people like you because you peddle false narratives.” (READ MORE: DeSantis Strikes Back)
The purpose of this narrative is to induce gender confusion at the earliest age possible and debilitate the Left’s most formidable obstacle, the nuclear family. And it is already having the desired effect, with even older if not wiser family members embracing the progressive fantasy to preserve a travesty of traditionalist roles. Two personal anecdotes come to mind. As usual, I’ll substitute fake names for the real people involved.
Ben is an older, churchgoing friend of mine. Some three years ago, he shared his concern about his only grandson being gay, strictly from his “end of the family line” perspective. Last Christmas, Bob mentioned that his son, wife, and daughter would be visiting him for the holidays. I asked, “With your grandson?” “I don’t have a grandson,” Ben replied. “Just a granddaughter.” He said this as if it were the most natural statement in the world, with the kid’s past — his boyish dreams and frustrations — completely erased.
Recently, another friend, Dick, recounted a story about his daughter, Pam. Pam graduated from NYU a full-fledged social justice warrior, disgusted by our “racist, inequitable” country. Last week, Pam visited her friend and fellow liberal NYC grad, Amy, at her parents’ Manhattan apartment. In her parents’ presence, Amy told Pam about her younger sister being somewhat gender uncertain. Knowing the sister, Pam inquired, “How’s she doing?” “They!” snapped Amy’s mother as her father scowled. “Are doing fine.”
I had a thought about the incident. Amy’s parents knew Pam was to the left of AOC, so you’d think they’d let her pronoun “faux pas” slide without comment, if just to be pleasant hosts. What kind of people close to my age, I reflected, would cause discomfort to their daughter’s friend like that? Sad, desperate people, I concluded. So desperate to maintain a façade of family normalcy that the slightest intrusion of reality becomes a threat that must be repelled.
That is life today for many progressives and their loved ones. And that is why they must brainwash very young children before they can distinguish between fantasy and reality. By the time they can, liberals hope, they’ll reject truth just as they themselves do. But they’re going to have a hard time maintaining their illusion. Because the mythology of transsexualism has proven a rainbow bridge too far for society. Rather than strengthening their dream coalition, it has unraveled it, repelling even people formerly on their side, like J.K. Rowling, who crusades for actual women.
The Harry Potter author last week got in liberal hot water for opposing new amendments to Scotland’s already absurd Gender Recognition Reform bill, which will theoretically make it easier to switch genders. One angry SJW tweeted, “You really want your legacy to to die on this hill, J.K. Rowling?” Rowling responded, “Yes, sweetheart. I’m staying right here on this hill, defending the right of women and girls to talk about themselves, their bodies and their lives in any way they damn well please. You worry about your legacy, I’ll worry about mine.” How ironic that it took the most successful fantasy writer of all time to blast the biggest fantasy of all time.