Growing up a Tomboy

Not long ago, a girl could act as 'boyish' as she wished.  Then, no-one would have dreamed of mutilating her body and compromising her health in order to attempt to turn her into something she can never be.

This is a post from 'Political Posting Mumma,' an activist against the damaging fad of  'transgender.'

She speaks of growing up a a tomboy.

"People would call me a Tomboy and I would ask them, “what even is that? Who says girls can’t do whatever they want?” "

This lady is convinced that if she'd been growing up now, she would have found herself being 'transitioned.'

Luckily,  she grew up before the wickedness took hold.   'I am so grateful, I was left to be me.'

The full story  is very much worth reading.
The link to PPM's facebook page is below it.

"For most of my childhood I was considered a Tomboy.
My friends were mostly boys.
I climbed trees and built tree houses and was often a bit grotty from collecting bugs and playing in the dirt. I hated pretty dresses. I had short hair for a number of years and I absolutely detested the colour pink! When I was 8 I received a much wanted real tool box so I could build things, hopefully with my dad who liked to build when he wasn’t working. He worked a lot. And build things I did. I had a train set until I was 13. I had a motorbike and dreamed of owning a Harley Davidson one day...

When I was at my single mum’s home, I played the role of the man when it came to finding out what the loud noises were in the house, and taking out the spiders and comforting her when she needed it. I also fought off my mum’s attackers on more than one occasion. I was the “man of the house” so to speak.

As a young person I was always quite opinionated and a bit mouthy. Traits that have no doubt held me in good stead in this recent battle. I loved wrestling and play fighting and would often beat the boys, (until they all hit puberty of course).

People would call me a Tomboy and I would ask them, “what even is that? Who says girls can’t do whatever they want?”

I started the first girl indoor soccer team in my area. I played footy and was quite good at it, until the boys were told they weren’t allowed to tackle me anymore and so obviously the game lost any interest for me. I was angry at the injustice at the time but no other girls at my school wanted to form a team, so I let footy go and moved on.

So this issue is probably a little more personal for me than maybe for others. Although I’m sure many of you can relate in some way or another. Biological gender may be binary but gender expression is definitely not.

I am absolutely convinced that if this agenda was around when I was growing up, I would have been transitioned. I’m convinced my mother who quite possibly has (undiagnosed) munchausen by proxy and is as politically left leaning and “progressive” as it gets, would have embraced this medicalisation of gender dysphoria.
Convinced.
I was put in a wheelchair and hospitalised as a child with an illness that miraculously disappeared.
Amongst other examples.

Incidentally, I was a fairly late bloomer, but by the age of about 16 I discovered and embraced my more feminine side.
I gave up trying to be the boy I thought my father always wanted and may have loved more than he seemed to love me. I started to wear a bit of lippy and flirted profusely with the opposite sex and this was often reciprocated. I also found my first real teenage bestie girlfriend and I loved and enjoyed our non competitive friendship. I wore my hair long and started to get more into fashion for my newfound curves. I sold my motorbike for $100 so I could buy a pair of Doc Martins. That guy got a bargain and I was so irritated to find he ended up being one of my biggest trolls through the marriage campaign. That bike was worth at least a thousand bucks! 🙄

I digress.
I am so grateful, I was left to be me.
At 20, after a failed suicide attempt, I gave my life to Jesus and found a path of complete happiness. This new life perspective meant that almost over night all that I wanted was to be a wife and a mum and to create a home that I had always craved for Marijke the broken and lonely little girl. I found my inner strength and life’s purpose and it wasn’t to be angry and aggressive anymore. I could relax and just be me. The evolving me. But the me I may have always been if circumstances and my often traumatic childhood had have been different. Or who knows, I may have always liked “boy things” whatever they even are...

Anyway, I suddenly dreamed of being a Nurturer, a mother, a home maker and I met men through my church network that made me believe that not all men were bad or disloyal or absent or abusive. I met my now husband who helped me understand that there were men who had integrity and loyalty and who did not look at women (and especially not at little girls) as objects for their sexual gratification. He won’t even look at another woman inappropriately and even turns away when there are underwear ads! This was astonishing to me. All the men I’d known were into porn. We are now raising sons who honour women the same way.

I’m convinced that how I presented saved myself from lots when we lived in a bikie club house with my mum, her biker partner and my sisters. It may have even been subconscious. Who knows.

With the new life I felt through my spiritual conversion I was able to soften my masculine defensive side and embrace all the innate feminine qualities that are so special and unique and that really were also there within me all along but I had no doubt locked away.

If the Trans-Agenda were around when I wanted desperately to be a boy, I would have been permanently physically mutilated. I would have been sterilised. I would have had my healthy breasts removed and tried to sculpt my body through plastic surgery into a way that I felt my personality was “supposed” to look.

Perhaps saddest of all, I would have never had the ability to have my four, precious beautiful children who have given me a richness to love and depth and breadth to the meaning of life that often overwhelms me and has certainly saved me when my PTSD flares up. They are also the reason I continue to fight and why I was so angry when the state decided to sexualise them with the comprehensive sexuality nonsense. I know first hand what depriving a child of their childhood and innocence does. I have protected my kids.
I am a mumma warrior!

I know that not all women can have biological children and I mourn for those women and share this with compassion for them, but to take this away from a little girl permanently is absolutely despicable. Or a little boy for that matter.

And as someone who has also dealt with children who have had suicidal ideation due to genetic anxiety disorders, I simply cannot accept the fear of suicide as an acceptable reason to do this to kids. Not now. Not ever.

I have poured my heart out because I hope this message goes out into the world. This agenda is not ok. Let kids be kids!

Let little girls play soccer and let little boys do ballet. Who cares. I thought we won that battle! What even is all of this??
Do not castrate them and deprive them of a peaceful future or their human right to procreate if they so choose.
Deal with their minds and hearts and traumas and pains and love them, don’t mutilate them.
And definitely do not mainstream this radical ideology so little girls and little boys from broken homes get caught in the cross fire.
Enough is enough!
Please share." 

https://www.facebook.com/politicalpostingmumma/?__tn__=kC-R&eid=ARDPtowHyqFv9Rvl1I5mflIZPalv6G1WemR5u--AvXyrdae_jzj1nl1zZpHo5k4mJGwyhZIhTO9DNUZJ&hc_ref=ARQQxgtEuPqHoT1mS3g3O3J0k2LUk2Pl4jH8r2B9Ad4i1Ic4EnK3Y-aFTjjkJSu5564&fref=nf&__xts__[0]=68.ARBUij5xX5MVt7CW4eNS3hD9RRtX3pTGtjfl3BjAqlofy2Ag_mCqo9cXpkkbx1nrKBXMYJ7iXjye_x115odMVvJywcSdCB0w5KjZbOZekuFwmYddO3mSCn0GFT2Lcdt4GPtS4bnQ1eAUOE6nn2puuj49XGfC4RRStDcpiIUrZbPdZnWOy5wWnN2M-tpvjYaEWeJbo2YqJ5dzBLmwKZIBnwDXzfCeWpTMKZB2dbWR29gsdY02LnJRE2BW4wpB8EBy4QoEcpECGTMU0ArQaT-Hpecsps87DAd5ykd8NrvsQhXnTOBnMtGO5LmhFmDfSAfIbA1vsez_CKG3RYZxDW4-Tv8

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My first book was about a eunuch. The idea started when we had our beloved young dog desexed - what most responsible owners do. Our dog sulked for a few days afterwards, but then accepted it. After all, what choice did he have?  

So then came Shuki, a bright ten-year-old boy from the slums of a city in Arabia. According to my novel, that was in the 1970s, not in ancient times.

'Not a Man' was published in 2011 - just eight years ago.  But in the years before, when I was researching the effects of the pre-puberty castration of a normal boy, there was almost nothing about it.  I did discover there were a lot of men who had castration fantasies, some of whom would go to extremely painful lengths to make their fantasy into reality.  And I discovered there were some choir boys who would beg for the operation in order to preserve their voice.


But the idea of castrating a healthy boy, especially pre-puberty, was regarded as a wickedness not to be even considered.  And yet here we are in 2019, and it is accepted, though called 'transitioning' rather than 'castration,'  and the boys are called 'girls' rather than eunuchs.  

Speculation is growing about the number of future law suits there will be from those whose bodies are damaged when they were still children.  I expect there will be many.  

Girls cannot turn into boys.  Boys cannot turn into girls.