Gender Apostasy

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The Cost of Silence
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The Cost of Silence

What we should have learned from history class

Lynn Meagher
Jul 19, 2021
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When I was growing up we learned about history. As part of that, we learned about the holocaust. We learned about the raids, and the death camps. We learned about the trains that would take families to these camps, where they would be locked up in the most inhumane conditions possible. They were tortured, humiliated, robbed, beaten, starved, and ultimately gassed to death. They were experimented on by unethical doctors. It was a horror that should never be forgotten.

I remember that we used to ask ourselves, how was this allowed to happen? People lived right next to these camps. They smelled the death. They had to see. They had to know. And yet they did nothing. Wouldn’t we have done something? Sounded the alarm? Come to the defense of those who were being slaughtered? Where was the church? Where were the decent people?

We were all so sure, we would never have let this go on. We would have done something.

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And yet, almost no one did. They went on with their lives. They didn’t want to risk their jobs, their safety, their reputations. They believed the media, they attended the parades. They stood in line, like good citizens. They shouted, Hail Hitler! on command. They reported their neighbors. They sent their sons to war, to fight for the cause. They repeated the things they were told to say. They believed the promises of the new world order that were served up to assuage their consciences. I’m sure they thought that someone else would do it.

We would never do that, would we?

Of course, I’m not comparing the burgeoning industry of gender surgery, with surgeons removing the healthy breasts of post adolescent teens and young women with the wholesale slaughter of six million people. I wouldn’t do that. And I’m not equating the bullying of the populace to repeat phrases such as “Transwomen are women” with compelled speech (Hail Hitler!) such as was used during the holocaust. Surely no one would force an entire populace to embrace ideologies they don’t really believe, would they? And I would never compare giving puberty blockers and wrong sex hormones to children, and the fact that the serious long term outcomes aren’t even known, to the unethical experimentation done by doctors during the holocaust. Surely doctors just have our kid’s best interest in mind, right? No one would experiment on children now, surely. I wouldn’t say any of those things. The nightmare of the holocaust is a horror all of it’s own, and the memory of those days should haunt us all. Those who have survived, lost loved ones, and endured the trauma of those events have their own stories, and my point here is not to compare this moment in history to those horrible events. But we should have learned something from that history. It should have made us better. I’m not sure it has. This is not the Holocaust, but it is a time in history that will be remembered as the day we failed not only children but parents and humanity itself. I spend the majority of my time listening to stories from parents who are enduring pain that is difficult to adequately describe. The more you know about this medical and social scandal, the darker it gets.

Most of you who are reading this know by now that we have a serious and deeply disturbing medical and social scandal on our hands. You write to me privately to thank me for speaking out. You know that children are being seriously harmed. You know families who have been forever damaged and changed. You know that children’s puberty is being blocked by drugs that were first approved for the chemical castration of sex offenders. You know that children are being robbed of their future fertility, young women are having their breasts removed, and Planned Parenthood is handing out testosterone and estrogen to 18 year old youth on their first visit, usually in under an hour. You know that parents are being threatened with losing custody of their children, or being blackmailed into submission with dubious threats of suicide. You have seen it. But still you are silent. You know that certain political leaders have promised to advance this agenda. You vote for them anyway. You know that the schools are pushing this. You support them, anyway. You know that the media is lying about this. You could write a letter, but you’re busy.

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You have a job. You have a life. The cost is too high. You don’t want to upset your neighbors, your friends, or your family. It’s embarrassing. People won’t like you.

I think that’s what the people who lived next door to the death camps told themselves, too.

If you are saying to yourself, yes but what can I do, believe me there are lots of things that we all can do. Message me. I’ll send you a list. Better yet, comment below and commit to do something. Just a small something. You can start by refusing to remain silent.

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Mav
Jul 20, 2021Liked by Lynn Meagher

I speak up on person to person whenever I have the chance! People think the hormones have temporary effects and your child can just go back when they change their mind. Telling the whole ugly truth is important.

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Christopher Eastman-Nagle
Writes Christopher’s Newsletter ·Jul 20, 2021Liked by Lynn Meagher

Amen to that Lynn.

Mind you, the comparison with Nazi Germany is more complex than it looks.

German subjects were the subject of a system of terror administered through the omnipresent Gestapo. A 'request' to attend their offices was a truly terrifying prospect and non compliance to their wishes would end in a concentration camp.

Political dissidents who did survive life in a concentration camp came back completely traumatized and never the same again.

We currently live within a system that is every bit as totalitarian as the Nazi one, but the one we live under does not require a security apparatus. The private and public systems of social administration have learned to apply the principles of public relations and marketing to the point of such scientific accuracy, they effectively control consciousness, in much the same way that a jewel wasp does with its cockroach prey.

I am the maker of dreams and the seeder of thoughts.

In me are the power and the profit.

Through me you will reach the visions of your customers.

Their habits are but the sum of my old campaigns.

I cannot be denied, for I pass beneath all understanding.

I am the omnipresent silent partner.

I am the shape of ambition,

The evocation of desire,

The imagined worlds of all.

There is no escape except in me.

I am the hope and the despair,

The answer to prayers for upgrades ever after.

They who believe in me shall be saved by products

And my enemies shall be frustrated for ever.

We live in a society of third generation Shop Troops and Contract Warriors in a economic system templated from world war levels of mobilization of people, organizations and natural resources. And the young nothing else as a world that has built itself around fantasies of desire and immediate satiation at any price substitutes the bombing of cities by military ordinance to the bombing of mass populations by consumer ordinance,

The damage profile is one of not physical death and destruction, but existential death, bombed out social infrastructure a natural environment that is being systematically demolished with the same level of efficiency as pouring Zyklon B into concentration camp 'shower units'.

The biggest problem we have is just realizing what very trouble we are already in. And the solutions, insofar as there now any at all, will almost certainly mean war.

Great journeys must be imagined first

and so trenchant in their intent

to slake the deepest kind of thirst,

they grasp imaginers by the throat

and tell them bluntly

only through travail and trial,

by purging fire

and hammer blows be smote

can their spirit be reforged

and history's child

be sired.

This ordeal can either temper

or destroy

according to its whim,

or perhaps the pilgrims’ strength within.

Courage can surmount faint hearts,

but how can faith presume

that having gambled all,

there is a way to save us in the end?

There are no roads upon the other side,

except the ones we make,

every step perhaps at stake

our lives,

every view through soldiers’ eyes.

And so we wile away our days

beside brooding familiarities

that will not speak to us for fear

that it is not the sun that brightens

all that we hold dear,

but the bonfire of our vanities;

that the deepening darkening shade it castes

is not shadow,

but decaying sanity.

We look for hopeful signs,

but at midnight,

the clock rings its hands and says

in anguished tones,

“Ladies and Gentlemen,

it’s time.”

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