by: Brent Smith
If you’re an adult male like say, Bruce Jenner, and you want to pretend you’re a woman, even to the point of pumping yourself with a bunch chemicals and even surgeries to tamp down the man you are and bring out your “inner woman,” knock yourself out. I couldn’t care less. Live however you wish. It shouldn’t bother anyone.
But if you’re a parent, guardian or in the case of the article below, a grandparent who decides one day that a young boy should be a girl or vice versa, then we should all have a problem. Pure and simple, that’s child abuse.
Early in his life, Walt Heyer was convinced by his grandmother that he should be girl, and for a long time, it practically destroyed him. Lucky for him, after a life of self-abuse, he had the will to conclude, on his own, that what he was convinced by others of was the wrong path. Heyer also speaks of the HBO documentary “Transhood.” I have not seen it and won’t, but knowing HBO, it likely somehow glorifies transgenderism.
from Walt Heyer at the Federalist:
I Know What Happens To The Kids in ‘Transhood’, Because It Happened To Me
A new HBO Max documentary, “Transhood,” follows for five years the lives of four Kansas City, Mo. children who believe they are the opposite sex.
I identified as a “transgender woman” for eight years. Today, watching this documentary, I marvel at how the events of my childhood groomed me into believing that identifying as the opposite sex was the solution to my gender confusion. My heart goes out to these children who also are being groomed into a transgender life.
A Purple Dress Took My Boyhood Away
I can trace the onset of my gender confusion and wanting to be a female to the psychological, emotional, and sexual damage that occurred before I was ten. Starting when I was four years old, my dad would drop me off at my maternal grandparents’ house after work on Friday so he and my mom could take off for weekends of camping and fishing.
My grandparents lived on the outskirts of Los Angeles in a little shack behind an automobile junkyard. Grandpa was often out for hours at a time, towing cars. Grandma, a seamstress, stayed at home fashioning dresses for customers.
This is where my crossdressing and gender confusion started. I remember sitting on the porch, watching grandma cut and stitch pieces of purple chiffon cloth into a beautiful full-length evening dress for me, her four-year-old grandson. She helped me stand on a small stool for fittings and hemming. As she worked, she smiled and remarked how cute I looked.
The secret crossdressing “game” with grandma went on for about two years and ended abruptly when my mom and dad learned about it. Both were in shock. They threw the dress away and made sure that I never visited grandma’s alone again. But when my teen uncle found out about it, he teased me and made fun of me in front of my playmates, then escalated to sexual molestation.