As society has normalized deviant sexual relationships through media propaganda, we’ve seen a startling rise in the number of pliable young people who are claim that they are among those who are “LGBT+”. While this rise is disturbing in and of itself, it is the phenomena of transgenderism that I am particularly disturbed by, and it is the metaphysical implications of the mental illness that is the source of my discontent.
I’m Alexandria now. The old me is dead.
Transgenderism is an act of murder; it is the murder of the Self. Their initial transition is a complete repudiation of their former being. “The old me is dead.” Such pithiness! But the implication is clear; they are born anew, having washed away their natural state. In this way, the act of being transgender is a secularized, perverse form of Christian baptism. The individual emerges from their transition a new person with a “re-birth” of sorts. That’s why their new identity, their new wardrobe, and particularly their new name are so important to them. The transgender believes that they have shed their former self, emerging from the process “born anew.” This transition is the first death of the Self.
Upon completing the mental and/or physical transition, after what they see as their “true birth”, the transgender embarks upon their new life, in what they think is their true form. This is where their second round of disillusionment begins. The world may look anew, but the meat sack they find themselves inside remains the same. Looking down, they see the remnants of their murdered self following along, haunting their new life and gazing back at them with every step. It knows what they did to it. The transgender still remembers the former self; it cannot purge its knowledge of its past being. The transgender is painfully aware of the schism within. Every day, in every moment of self-reflection, the transgender is at risk of having their illusion shattered, of being revealed an impostor.
To attempt to heal the inner schism, the transgender opts to modify the lingering body of the murdered self. Excessive usage & expertise at the application of makeup, hairstyles, and new clothes soon aren’t enough to hide that which they thought they had left behind. Small details penetrate the illusion, bursting the fantasy, ending the charade. They begin hormone treatment, chemically altering their body to conform to their “real selves.” When that is no longer enough, they pay surgeons to remove the vestigial parts, in order to “become who they are.” For many of them, the smallest details, even if not visible or noticed by those around them, stand out like blood in snow to the transgender. The illusion must not be burst. These imperfections, these physical reminders of the person who was, is burned into their psyche. Anguish. Despair. The former self simply won’t die.
This is the state of life for many transgenders. Perpetually scrambling to ensure that their former self stays dead, years after they thought they put it to rest. Imprisoned in a fantasy they cannot maintain. It is this self-imposed exile that drives many of them to end their existence. The illusion cannot be maintained, their sins are known to them all too well; they are the walking dead. It is the act of suicide, the final death, in which the transgender completes that which they set out to do – murder their old self. In this last death, the transgender receives the closure that they sought from the beginning.
I’ve always felt sadness for those who are affected by mental illnesses, particularly ones that are more obviously debilitating than others. There aren’t many mental illnesses that allow the person affected to document their thoughts so clearly for reading by those who don’t suffer from such afflictions, but transgenderism allows you to glance inside the twisted, pained minds of these individuals, particularly with the large LGBT+ communities on websites such as Reddit and Tumblr. What I can say after spending a few days reading various blogs & forum posts is that transgenderism is terrifying, and could easily be source material for a book on existentialism & absurdism. Kafka’s Gregor Samsa woke one morning to find himself transformed into a “horrible vermin”. It is said that life imitates art, and in this case, it is true; many transgenders find themselves living through their own metamorphosis. Is it really any surprise that so many complete the murder they originally set out to perform?