Let me state this plainly here, if I haven’t been clear enough before now: I am not a “transphobe”. A phobia, defined by the Oxford dictionary, is “an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something”. I’m not afraid of or averse to trans individuals or those who struggle with their gender identities. (That’s not one hundred percent true, in a sense, I suppose: I am afraid of trans individuals of the sort who came gunning for me on Twitter. But it’s not their trans-ness I’m afraid of – their ideologically-driven hatred of dissent and the harm and havoc they are generating for families are what frightens me.)
I view gender dysphoria, medically and quite simply, as a departure from the normal order of things; that is, as an example of what we used to be able to call, in less politically-charged times, a “disorder”.
As I wrote in Act Two: “It should go without saying (from a medical viewpoint, at least) that calling something a “disorder” isn’t a moral judgment. Pathology isn’t bigotry: it’s simply a departure from the healthy order of things. If I diagnose someone with diabetes, or appendicitis, or schizophrenia, I don’t think any less of them.
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It’s difficult to imagine NOT being in support of “affirmation”, it must be said. Except that affirmation in this context is not necessarily a component of prudent love and care.
Affirmation is tossed around these days by trans activists like wild-eyed tent revivalist preachers dispensing baptism. “Dip yourself in the holy waters of affirmation, my child, and you shall be healed, released at last from your old body and awarded a new one.”
dredles.com/2019/01/28/bitter-tweet-the-foul-flavour-of-the-gender-debate/