Talkin’ ‘Bout My Generation?

we won’t get anywhere if we don’t respect the women who came before us.


I’m quite sure the young woman did not mean to insult me, I don’t think she believed that what she said to me was anything but just one of those simple facts. We were at a Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival fundraiser in the Midwest, in the fall of last year. I was fifty-seven. She, I’m guessing, was in her mid-twenties. The topic of our brief conversation was transgender-ism (or whatever I ought to be calling it this month) and why I am opposed to biological males–that is, men–attending a private event for women; I went further, and explained my opposition to the whole phenomenon of gender itself.

The back and forth was typical, nothing I hadn’t heard before; I tried to explain my political position. She, in turn, questioned me on how I felt about individual people, so disturbed and miserable that they turn to this radical ‘cure.’ “Don’t they deserve…

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