kimberlysteele | Entries tagged with gender

My husband recently bought our cats a tiny stuffed plush unicorn with rainbow ribbons for its hair and a sparkly, fuchsia horn. When I was obsessed with unicorns at age eight in the 1980s, unicorn toys were actually fairly hard to find. There were all of two or three at Toys ‘R Us and my indulgent parents bought me at least two of them. One was a hand puppet. None of them had rainbows, though I would have loved it if they did. Unicorns certainly were not ubiquitous enough to be found in the form of a cat toy and they were not flamboyantly gay.

If there is a year that anyone can pinpoint where gay truly became mainstream, I would place it around 2010, five years before gay marriage was legalized in the US. Politics is always downstream of culture. In my corner of the Midwest, being gay was already no big deal. Around the time when I graduated college in 1994, a young gay man made an attempt to shame me for using the term BFE. (I used saltier language back then!) The term means butt-f***ing Egypt and refers to terrifying backwaters where rubes torment newcomers with brutal, sodomite initiation rites. It’s a funny term and always has been. The young man had no sense of humor — he was Woke decades before it was cool — and he immediately put me in my place. I was younger then and I deferred. The current me would probably not be as kind, and would be quick to point out that anal sex is not the exclusive domain of gay men. As an aside, every straight woman I knew as a young person experimented with butt stuff long before her gay male contemporaries.

Gay used to have a specialness and a glamour about it that made it scintillating and fun. Gay used to mean homosexual and was not an umbrella term for deviants, perverts, autistic sociopaths, and open air pedophiles. Transsexuals were not lumped into the gay spectrum because many gays had no gender confusion whatsoever: some feminine women chose other feminine women, and they were called femmes. Masculine men who preferred other masculine men were not pressured to flip sexes in order to fall into straight stereotypes. There were also boyish girls and girlish boys who had no desire to castrate themselves or obtain mastectomies and hysterectomies. Gay may have been closeted and underground, but it was free of sanctimony. When LGBTQIA+ inclusion coopted gayness, it took with it the joie de vivre that made gay interesting and… well… gay.

The frenetic desire to belong to a tribe is completely understandable. When I first went vegan, I was desperate to find other vegans. Once I did find other vegans, I quickly realized that I wanted to get as far away from other vegans as possible. Just because people share a similar interest does not mean a group of them has any business getting together. I may like horror movies, but that does not mean I will have anything in common with others who enjoy them. I was pretty much born enjoying horror movies. I have loved them since I understood the difference between film and TV and real life. My predisposition does not make me in any way unique.

The drama/attention trap

Theater kids truly do ruin everything. The most dramatic gays are the theater kids who camp it up from an early age. The gay theater kid will often spend the rest of his life confusing reality with the stage, and that means he is a creature of emotional turmoil in every moment except perhaps young childhood. When he is bullied for his gayness at age thirteen, he will spend the rest of his life marinating in the victimhood of that era. Never mind that straight kids are bullied with great frequency too and that girls are turned into victims of sexual harassment or plain old sexual assault more often than boys. The current LGBTQIA+ movement was spawned by the theater gays of the eighties and nineties who were stupid enough to think communism and forcing their cartoonish ideas of gayness down the throats of straights and everyone else would terminate in a Skittles rainbow utopia of free love and hot sex. Instead, they have managed to wear on the general public like a sticky, highly-elasticized tank top on a sweltering summer day. They are annoying and make us long for cooler weather. The theater gays got busy in the wake of gay marriage, paving the way for the erasure of gay women as TERFs and of gay kids as would be straights in the form of trans sex-swapping. The movement has gone far enough now that a swing in the opposite direction is underway. Expect an equally retarded return to “traditional” values soon, with all the crappy caveats for both sexes.

What ever happened to live and let live?

My earliest memories in the defense of gays was the notion of leaving well enough alone. If only the nosiest among us stopped being so morbidly preoccupied with the bedroom antics of Sara and Lisa or Steve and Dan, the world would be much better, I rationalized. Gays were the creative backbone of civilization and unfairly persecuted at that. If only we had a more enlightened society where being gay did not mean prison time and shock treatments, that would be great. Christians seemed especially threatened by gayness, and of course the most vitriolic anti-gay preachers were secretly gay themselves. Jim Bakker was rumored to have numerous same-sex romps. Numerous gay scandals swirl around televangelist preacher Ted Haggard to this day. And let’s not leave out the Catholic church, which is infamous for its gay subculture from the Vatican on down as well as its pedophile protection rackets. The worst behavior among gays used to be associated with Christian hypocrisy until the mid-2010s when drag queens and transsexuals rose from the depths to claim the title.

Desmond Napoles is to the LGBTQIA+ movement what Greta Thunberg is to Davos climate activism. Both have acted as human shields to deflect the wrath of regular people towards a sinister crew of demonic swamp monsters who sit conveniently in the shadows and pull their puppet strings. Greta, now 22, is a laughingstock and a meme. She is a good example of what happens when high-functioning autism goes horribly wrong. Desmond, once known as Desmond is Amazing, is only 18 at the time of this writing. He is sadly on a similar trajectory as Thunberg, doubling down on what made him famous as a young person in hopes of recapturing public attention. Neither of these two know it is over. Thunberg is still yelling at random people and Desmond is still caking on neon makeup and insisting on being referred to as “them”. At least now Desmond is at an age where the advances made upon him by perverted old gay men are no longer straight up pedophilia. At least now there is some sense of him being able to give consent. Seven years ago, however, he was certainly groomed and put in harm’s way by his mother, who ought to be ashamed. He was pimped out from age eight. Who knows when the real abuse began? Infancy? Soon he will also be a meme, put to pasture by an increasingly hostile wave of anti-grooming conservatives.

Had Desmond (is Amazing) Napoles been a one-off incident of a child being thrown under the bus, there would be no backlash. Instead, Desmond’s grooming was symptomatic of a trend that is still trying to take over the world and announcing its intention at every turn.

During the worst possible time — Covid lockdowns — gay theater kids took it upon themselves to announce they were taking the world by storm, via un-ironic fascism a.k.a. being in lockstep alignment with large corporations. Disney’s boardroom was awash with patently obvious gay luxury communist programming agendas. Genderqueer, a nasty, soft porn graphic novel that depicted fellatio among the underaged, was forced into public school libraries while the entire subject of math was being questioned for its racism. TikTok was rife with purple haired elementary schoolteachers going into excruciating detail about their kinks, and they weren’t fired until a decent amount of outrage was stirred by Libs of TikTok, which of course was promptly doxxed. Trans, the idea that a child who is not able to legally drive a car or buy alcohol or cigarettes is able to make lifelong decisions about future fertility and medical dependency, swept the land in waves, drowning many who will never recover from the barbaric amputation of their private parts and permanent chemical sterilization and its attendant side effects.

This, plus the insistence that gay was whatever they felt at the time and that a black woman should and would be able to identify as a genderfluid ostrich, stole the joy and light of gayness. Gone was the acid wit of Oscar Wilde. Its gold was replaced with leaden accusations of pronoun crimes and men cutting off their junk in order to present as perpetually depressed, although pretty women. Drag shows went from impromptu bawdy, underground laughter sessions in dive bars to Story Hours where sick freaks paraded their obvious fetishes for toddler rape.

The mainstreaming of the gay movement and its transformation into LGBTIA+ alphabet soup heralded its erasure and downfall. Gays did this to themselves; don’t feel sorry for them. Gays really were persecuted once upon a time. The 1980s, though far more friendly to gays than the 70s or any era before that, were still marked by vicious crimes against gay people and a general disdain for gayness. When we called someone “gay” back then, it was half joke and half slur. Nowadays it just seems quaint. Gays and the various others who lump themselves into LGBTQIA, however, still operate as if any deviation from the heterosexual norm is still grounds for teasing and bullying if not torture and murder as it was back in the 1980s. Drama queens will always need to see themselves as an oppressed class. This also goes hand in hand with liberalism. They want to be a persecuted class because this helps them avoid thinking about all of their own culpability in macro and micro aggressions against their own victims. Playing the victim means you cannot be the oppressor, or at least it means you have an excuse for being an oppressive bastard.

Gay is neither transgressive, progressive, nor titillating

Nobody cares if you’re gay. Seriously, nobody cares. Mixed race couples used to be scandalous too. Being gay is about as scandalous as having a mixed race relationship. In 1960, mixed race relationships raised eyebrows. Nowadays, they do not. Trotting out gayness, gender fluidity, or whatever is supposedly against normal is actually the new normal. Everyone is a little gay, just as there are mixed race kids running around in every neighborhood, whether it is the slums or McMansion Row. When various pop stars drop hints that they’ve kissed a girl or wear full bondage regalia at their concerts, it’s Dullsville. Show me something I haven’t seen in a while. Show me actual talent. Gay does not shock and it does not appall. I didn’t care what gays did in their private homes then and I don’t care now. Blue and pink hair is not flamboyant when every other person has it. Phallic sex toys are not salacious when old ladies writing books about tidying and organizing mention having a dildo collection. Even Diddy’s hatred of women and his thirty odd year run of sexual blackmail of other males is not shocking. It is as if we knew it all along.

We don’t care if you are confused about your gender. David Bowie and every other glam rocker wore more makeup in a month than most women wear in their entire lives. They wore higher heels too. Though it was fun to watch, drag wasn’t a topic of deep conversation that required loud declarations of identity. It should go back to that.

We don’t care if you were born asexual. Some people never get horny for anyone else, and some people find they never get horny enough to make it worth pairing off with a mate. In the old days, you had the option of becoming a vestal virgin, a priest, or a nun. Nowadays, becoming a priest or a nun seems to be nearly synonymous with truly subversive, demonic crap, so try at your own risk.

We don’t want to hear about your sexual needs and desires. As for losing desire, lesbian bed death is no different than the heterosexual kind. Being monogamous isn’t always exciting, it’s just that heteros in long term relationships don’t feel the need to blab about our sex lives (or lack thereof) to everyone all the time. Perhaps we don’t need as much external validation.

The average straight person has no problem with anything gay unless you make it her problem. Sadly, the last ten to fifteen years have been all about making gay into a cause for consternation instead of cause for celebration.

Thanks for reading! This article is also available with pictures at Substack.

Back when trans was cool and also from Transylvania.

Around the year 2006, I wrote my first novel, Forever Fifteen about a young, fifteen year old looking vampire who was a reluctant but prolific serial killer. The novel featured a side story about a cross-dressing man who was railroaded and driven to suicide by a nosy, outwardly normal neighbor. Back then, I had a great deal more sympathy for cross-dressers, transvestites, and what is now called transgender people. I considered them a persecuted class of mainly closeted gay men.

My empathy screeched to a halt once militant trans “allies” took over school classrooms and public libraries. A carnival of freaks shamed regular people for calling a pedophile a pedophile. Drag queens exposed their junk in front of kids. Various pornographic books popped up in school libraries that read like The Joy of Sex (ages 3 and up). Target turned its store into a pride display, complete with chest binders and tuck underwear for customers training to amputate/invert their private parts. Facebook and pre-Elon Musk Twitter censored anyone who wasn’t on board. To this day, I still see people broadcasting their preferred pronouns on social media and referring to an individual as “they”. I personally will not refer to a single person as “they”. “They” is a term for more than one person. Using it for an individual is an open acknowledgement of multiple personality disorder. Just as I would not play into the delusions of a person with severe schizophrenia, I will not use the term “they” to refer to an individual.

The trans movement might have survived had it contained its entitlement and kept its vibe on the side of chill. Trans is a movement that did extremely well when it was underground. Trans was cool when it was actually subversive a la Rocky Horror, K.D. Lang, Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Trans grave mistake was getting in bed with Big Pharma and Big Insurance to the point where schools and entire state governments were pushing permanent gender-motivated mutilation on prepubescent children. Trans immolated itself in the fires of self-invited public scrutiny. Yes, there was money in it, and many in the trans movement took the bait, becoming monsters in the process.

Etheric bodies matter: polarity and sex

The missing link in the trans dialogue this entire time has been a discussion of the subtle bodies and why their arrangement might drive someone to want to swap genders. In my article about masturbation and the subtle bodies, I explain how males have female etheric (energy) bodies and how females have male etheric (energy) bodies. Anton LaVey bludgeons through the male/female body arrangement concept in his book The Satanic Witch, but it takes a deep dive through the works of John Michael Greer, Dion Fortune, and Max Heindel to get any purchase on why we are made in such funny ways.

When a woman is extremely male on the etheric, she will be physically underwhelming and diminutive. She will be extremely sensitive to vibes. She will have a propensity to engage in behaviors that regulate and enhance the etheric plane to which she is so sensitive, such as the beauty trade, cooking, cleaning, decorating, making music, decorating, and healing.

When a man is extremely female on the etheric, he will dominate on the physical plane. On the energy plane, he will easily attract romantic attention as if he was casting an invisible net. He will likely be inept at making things pretty and will be far more likely to need healing power than to be able to give it out of himself.

In brief, we all embody our own polar opposite on the etheric plane. In my own case, I am a shrimpy little woman with a huge etheric package. I often overwhelm with my etheric force and people who aren’t used to it can be easily taken aback or frightened by it. Little women with gigantic personalities are often packing on the etheric. If you know the gentle giant stereotype such as the fireman who rescues kittens from burning buildings, you also know that certain combinations are violently attractive.

Trans is a tragedy because it erases polarity. Lopping off body parts and screwing with hormones maims the physical body in ways that create horrific, chronic conditions where none existed. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” should be the second line of the Hippocratic Oath, and trans procedures and drugs ignore everything Hippocrates ever uttered about medicine. I may be the etheric equivalent of a lumberjack but it doesn’t mean that I am the girliest girl who ever girled on the physical plane. I have a masculine jaw and I can leg press 230 pounds. Also, sometimes I like boy things and think exactly like a man despite being very much a woman. Non-gay boys might play with Barbie just as non-gay girls might play with GI Joe. Sexuality is a spectrum and it is not static. We all go through our tomboy eras and our girlie girl eras. Most of us have been attracted to the same sex at some point in our lives, whether we admit it or not. We don’t have to choose a side. The same people who like to blur the lines between gender seem to think they can have it both ways. When a man makes femininity into a minstrel show via drag, he is deliberately exploiting the polarity of hyper-feminine women. Drag queens don’t dress up as Amy Schumer — they dress up as Marilyn Monroe.

In this age of overpopulation, it is highly likely that some people with body dysmorphia were reincarnated too fast and have trauma and confusion left over from their past lives. This was certainly true of me. I believe I was female in my most recent past life. I was born as Kimberly in 1973 and the lifetime before that was Vera who was born in the 1890s. Typically one is not born female twice in a row, and usually the reincarnation process switches sexes each time. I did not have trauma about my gender but I had it about plenty of other things as a young person, and it was not my upbringing or circumstances as Kimberly that caused it. Much of my youthful distress arose because I was reincarnated a scanty four years after Vera died. This was not sufficient time to process all that happened when I was Vera.

Nowadays, people are reincarnated so fast that it is often only a matter of months between lives. If you were a petite woman in your most recent life, it is not going to be easy to be a six foot four guy in your following life. Things will be different, to say the least. My spirit guides have hinted that I will be a gay man in my next life, and I can see that because I have more than a tinge of gay male flair in this one.

The thrill is gone

Medicine jumped the shark over a hundred years ago, where healing and its practical knowledge was jettisoned for wonder drugs and fad diets. Medicine is a desperate game of musical chairs in a burning building. Its latest attempt to cannibalize what is left of the economy is convincing kids to turn themselves into eunuchs in need of constant surgeries and drugs. Just as Big Tobacco realized it needed to get kids hooked in order to sell cigarettes, Big Pharma understood its cash cow was in 12 year old Roblox addicts with garden variety adolescent body dysmorphia and divorcing parents.

No surgeries or pills required, just be yourself.

I hope I have made it clear there is no way of switching sex. If a male tries to become female (to my mind, he will never succeed because chromosomes are chromosomes), he will have the same etheric body arrangement. The etheric body will act as if the amputations never happened, just as the etheric bodies of amputees create mockups in the form of phantom limbs. A male-to-female transperson will always have a phantom penis and a female-to-male transperson will suffer phantom breasts.

Another problem with trans treatments is their utter brutality. Trans procedures are castration. Genital mutilation is another fitting term. Just as we wince when we hear of Somali girls having their labia and clitorises cut off by well-meaning aunts on kitchen tables (this is what happened to Ayaan Hirsi Ali when she was a few years out of diapers) we should shudder when surgeons flay the skin off a girl’s or woman’s arm to make a frankenpenis or transfer a chunk of a boy’s or man’s colon to his taint in order to fashion an ersatz vaginal canal. Said canal will always act energetically as if it is still a route to the anus, oozing waste fluid and requiring “dilation” with various dildos in order to remain open. I wish I was kidding.

The role of hormones in shaping personality and expressing the human soul is barely understood by anyone, so I don’t know why anyone would trust the most retarded quotient of our civilization to dictate permanent decisions about what should be done with them. Doctors have not been healers for a while now and it is clear they have no understand of the etheric plane, despite the inconvenient truth that all healing emanates from the etheric plane.

I hope now that Woke is beginning its death throes that we can collectively assess trans surgeries and procedures for the horror they have always been. Gay used to be a hell of a lot more fun. There were no young adults with painful, mutilated frankenvaginas, surgically-induced menopause, and lifelong hormone and pain pill habits in its wake.