What I Want to Say, But Won’t
Recently, a mother lost her high school age daughter to Transgenderism. Her daughter was abducted by queer activists, housed and hidden without her consent. The daughter's school district played its part, affirming pronouns and hiding the child from her own parents. I wondered what I would say to school officials if this were my child. This is what I wrote…
Thank you for meeting with me today. As you know, I haven't seen my daughter in many months. Perhaps you think this is okay by me and that I do not want her in my life. Or perhaps you think we have a rift, which might be sometimes normal in parent/child relationships, and that it may someday be resolved naturally. Or perhaps, worse, you think I'm an unfit parent. I assure you, all these things are untrue. I actually have a lot to say. But, truth be told, what I want to say, I cannot. I have been put in an awkward position, one in which the state and its actors have assisted the removal of my child from me.
Worse still, unlike physically or sexually abusive parents whose children are put into foster care, I am unable to see my child, even under supervision. I have been relegated to worse than a sexual abuser. No adult in a position of authority or power advocates for me. You have taken on the role of State actors, circumventing the responsibility the State has to protect children. You have managed to undermine all legal recourse I might otherwise have. I want nothing more than my daughter, whom I love and am deeply worried about, to return to me. And, because of this, I must hold my tongue to earn your good graces.
Because what I want to say is “How dare you? How dare you assist my daughter in running away from home? How dare you hide her from her family who loves her? From her own mother?” What self-righteous and misplaced gall has possessed you to affirm a permanent rift with a child's mother? But I won't say it.
What I want to say is “I don't believe in Transgenderism.” I believe in it like I believe in the Loch Ness Monster or Sasquatch. This current transgender madness sweeping our nation is poison, causing our children to mutilate their bodies, causing rifts with their loved ones, and causing them to descend into madness. This is, of course, obvious to anyone with two eyes. But I can't say this as Oregon law demands I bend the knee to gender ideology in order to get my child back, a child you have stolen from me, I must feign belief. So I won't say it.
What I want to say, and cannot, is “What evil has possessed you to help remove my child from my care and turn her against me? To encourage her to act against my wishes and to follow those of other adults? What nerve must you have. These people are not her parents. Not her care givers. And yet you work against me to steal my child.” That's what I want to say. But I cannot. Because I love my daughter and desire her return to me.
What I want to say, but cannot, is “How dare some other adults insert themselves into my child's life as if they are her parent. Who does this bitch think she is? What nerve. I've never seen an adult push their boundaries and authority with such reckless abandon then I have when it comes to ‘Queer Identities’. Quite frankly, who the ever-living fuck does she think she is?” I'd love to say that, but I cannot, so I'll bite my tongue.
No, I can't say any of those things. I can't say I feel conspired against. Nor can I mention the thousands of parents who are enduring this same phenomenon nationwide, all of whom hold their tongues hoping their prodigal children return to them. I can't say I feel like you've all worked against me to complete the vilest of deeds - breaking apart my family. Nor can I mention the lack of sleep I face every night as I wake up, heart racing, thinking of how much I hate all the bastards who have inflicted this vile nonsense on my home. I can't say any of this. I need to play nice, act reasonable, even in the face of those who wish me nothing but the worst of harms: the kidnapping of my own child.
So I'll smile. I’ll pretend to listen. I won't tell you to “fuck off.” I'll play nice with the kidnappers and hope they return her to me in one piece. I won't tell you anything I actually feel.
And when it's all over, when I get her back, I'll pray for Karma.