A POLITICALLY CORRECT (PC) PRETTY BOY (a spoof — a cartoon in words)

“I’m so excited,” Jodi gushed. “I secretly wanted a daughter, and now Sammy has the chance to wear a dress at his primary school tomorrow. It’s too wonderful. Who knows….” Her voice tailed off.

Jodi’s best friend Sally, not the sharpest pencil in the box, had a tendency to confuse issues. Despite this, Sally knew at once where Jodi was coming from and clapped her approval. “You mean — you’re hoping — that he may want to trans into a girl? Well, why not!” Then she frowned, “Is it pc to even label anyone as a girl these days? I mean, you can be what you want to be, can’t you?”

Jodi hesitated thoughtfully. “I think it’s still all right, providing you don’t say it aloud. I mean, everyone can at last be what they really want to be, right? That’s part of the de-gendering program. And they can de-gender as many times as they like, even though most are born one or the other, but now they can trans into that one they have always wanted to be at long last, or something like that, and then trans again into something else later, although I’m not clear why they would want to once they were what they had always wanted to be — it’s all a little confusing. But the guideline is it’s always what you feel and not what you actually are. Isn’t it?”

“Let me get this straight. If you say Sammy is a boy and he wants to be a girl instead, you may have labelled him incorrectly as a boy and that would be putting wrong ideas in his head — I think that’s it. Has Sammy said what he wants to be? I mean, he has a choice of 70 or so genitals, doesn’t he?”

“I think you mean genders not genitalia. Actually, he was angry and said he wasn’t going to wear a dress, and stormed out to go and play war games with his mates. I pointed out to him that Sammy is a name that can also be a girl’s name, but I don’t think he wanted to listen. I won’t tell you what he said, I don’t know where he learns such language, but he will come around I know he will. I feel it, and we all know how important feelings are and not facts, don’t we?”

“Absolutely. Facts suck. To get back to genitalia.”

“You mean genders.”

“Yes. Sorry. I do. But between the two of us, can we just privately, you know, just between the two of us, talk “boy” and “girl”? I mean, I haven’t studied yet the other seventy or so genitals — I mean genders — and I would get them wrong.”

“Yes. Me too. I mean to get down sometime and learn all seventy or so, but life is busy and I just haven’t. Besides, they keep finding new ones. Perhaps we should stick to what we know, at least for now until we have learnt them all. So just between the two of us, we will stick with “boy” and “girl” for now, OK? But when someone comes visiting, we will try our best to be pc, OK?” Her voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. She found their whole intrigue just so… so… deliciously exciting.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Jodi and Sally looked at one another in alarm! They were going to have to be pc right away! Frightening! Jodi wiggled a warning finger at Sally on her way to answer the knock. This was going to be a test all right!

And, would you believe it, horror heaped on horror — there stood Sammy’s teacher! Jodi froze, before gasping out.

“Please do come in, Miss… I mean, Teacher. This is my friend Sally.”

Teacher frowned. She didn’t like the automatic title “Miss”, which was sexist: was this mother mocking her? She got right to the point. “I tried to phone you before coming, but couldn’t get through. Sammy was very rude to me today, and I believe we need to discuss a way forward right away, before school tomorrow in fact. Today I told his class I would bring in a box that would have mixed-gender clothing, including dresses, and that we would dress opposite to what we do normally, just so we can feel what it is like to be someone who is of another gender. I won’t tell you what some of the rude children said. Sammy was one of them, but there were others. I ignored them, as they are only in primary school. Then I told them they could use jewellery and lipstick if they liked, and Sammy called out where I could put the lipstick and jewellery, which part of my genitalia….”

“Oh no!” thought Sally. “Will I ever get gender and genitalia sorted after this?”

Teacher shook with rage as she relived the humiliation she had suffered. “I thought I needed to personally warn you that I will not again tolerate Sammy yelling out parts of my genitalia in class! You are aware, aren’t you, that for raising children in a sexist environment, in one that supports and teaches children about traditional marriage, the government have the authority to demand you attend a Human Rights Tribunal, and we all know what that can lead to, don’t we? I fear I might have to take further what Sammy told me at the end of the lesson when we had our little talk, but thought it would be fairer to speak to you first, although now I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you.” Jodi gushed. “And I assure you we are an absolutely non-sexist family. Just before you knocked, Sally and I were discussing how that sexist labelling was totally banned in this home. Weren’t we Sally? No more sexist terms like “boy” and “girl” will ever again be heard between these four walls. Never again! I promise you.”

The raised, excited voices stirred up their pet parrot in his cage, who called out loudly in his raucous voice,

“Who’s a pretty boy then? Who’s a pretty boy? Who’s a pretty boy?”

Thank you, Joseph Pearson, for the pic.
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