You have managed to create quite a controversy for yourself. Not only have you managed to create quite a ruckus on my facebook feed, but you have also succeeded to brainwash people to agree with your opinion by lieu of sympathy. Why am I so harsh on you? Because YOU ARE NOT A HERO IN THE FIELD OF WOMAN'S RIGHTS. YOU ARE NOT A GOOD ROLE MODEL FOR CHILDREN. YOU ARE JUST, I REPEAT, JUST ANOTHER TRANSPHOBICIDIOT. That is all that you are.
I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't be so harsh on you. But here's what you did that contributed to creating this post:
You recently penned a letter to Cindy Leive, the editor-in-chief of Glamour Magazine. You told her that you were returning the The Glamour Woman of the Year award awarded to his wife P.O. Moira Smith who was killed in action during the 9/11 attacks.
Now, I am not going to say that I understand your loss. Because I don't. I did not lose someone I love to the hands of vile beings who call themselves men. I don't know. And yes, she died a hero. There is no denying that.
But that is not the concern of this article. My concern is that you are manipulating your loss to to disguise trans phobia, which I don't think your wife would have approved of. But then again, I don't know her. Secondly, I don't think it should be your decision, whether or not to return the award given to your WIFE. Because your wife was made Glamour Women of the Year, not you.
Furthermore, it really annoys me how you keep referring to Caitlyn Jenner as a "male", even though the State of California has declared her legally "female". So not only are you denying a court order, but you're also being incredibly stupid.
Also, I don't understand how awarding a transgender could insult your wife's memory. I mean, many women have received the Glamour Woman of the Year award after P.O. Moira Smith. Did they insult your wife's memory too? If no, the how is acknowledging the bravery of someone trying to be them self and fighting for the rights and raising awareness about transgenders be any different?
It may be true, that Caitlyn Jenner may not be perfect, but are any of us? Are you perfect Mr. Smith? Unless you can provide proof stating you are, I don't think you have the right to judge others unfairly.
The posts I have been posting have nothing to do with one incident. Yes, I feel for all those who have suffered in Gaza, Lebanon, Paris, Tokyo and Syria. Right now I am filled with so much anger, too many people are dying.
We are one species. I hate this because people are treating this as a lifestyle trend and I know that no posts are going to actually help those people. I know.
I am writing this article after coming out of a breakdown. So if you've been having a bad day, don't read this. I'm just going to rant here.
First off, let me start by asking a question: What is happiness and why does everyone make such a big deal out of it?
Why do people find it so hard to accept that a person going through depression or is suffering from a mental illness can be happy? Is it really necessary for something life altering to happen to them before they become happy? Who feeds you that bullshit?
You know all those stories on the internet, about not fitting in anywhere? They're not all untrue. I've wanted to write this article for a long time. So here it comes:
When I was little, I use to think that my father had the answer to every problem. He was so smart, so strong, so funny, so good looking. I would show him off to all the other kids at school. Look, my daddy has abs, my daddy is charismatic. my daddy can play six different types of sports; can your father do that? I was so proud of him. Cross that. I AM proud of him. He is the best thing this world has to give to me. In those days, I would hang on to every word that fell from his lips. Whatever daddy said was true. Nothing could change my mind on that. But one of the things that he told me, that made me who I am was: "Be different. In our family, we don't value people who follow other people. People follow us."
So I took his advice literally and went out of my way to be different. Not that it wasn't fun. And kindergarten me took delight in shocking people. Like all those times I would show up to school with a buzz cut hairdo and everyone would just stare. The girls those days were bent on growing their hair as long as Rapunzel's. Or the time I brought a Spider Man backpack, lunch bag and compass box to school. I remember a boy asking me: "Why do you have Spider Man stuff? Are you a boy?". I remember punching him and getting into this big fight with our classmates cheering on (even if half of the boys were shaming my opponent for fighting a girl). I remember my father losing it in the Principal's office. I remember him laughing so hard that the secretary had to bring him a glass of water. He had to be stern with me afterwards for my mother's sake. But he got me Jungle Book a day later.
I remember always being a new student at school. I wasn't shy. I just did not want to talk to people. I was always content on my own. But it got lonely sometimes. VERY lonely. I remember being the only kid in the class who knew so much that the teacher had to give me other work to do to keep my mouth shut. And to stop correcting her mistakes. I remember always reading books of all shapes and sizes. I remember being caught in maths class reading a Nancy Drew book. All the kids shunned me after that. Apparently I had no 'respect' for the teacher because talking bad about her behind her back is so much more 'respectful'.
Oh and then the Puberty fairy gave me a visit. And suddenly I became a very vivacious person (at least according to my first boyfriend). I got my first boyfriend in eight grade. He was two years older than me. Half of the class was in awe of my boldness. Half of them were too busy calling me a slut. I would go to the bathroom and find some very 'nice' things written in my honour. My boyfriend told me to ignore them, but I was tired of being judged relentlessly. I started distancing myself from him. That lead to me finding him making out with a Lebanese girl in the football ground. We hadn't broken up.
Then came the year where my mother got a tumour and we had to move to India. I hated every bit of it (the decision to move, not the country). I gained lot's of weight from binge eating and reading too many books. I stopped working out. And then the boob fairy came to give me a visit. You know the funny thing abut guys? They have this ridiculous fantasy about girls: big boobs, no waist, big booty and super long legs. What they don't get is that every girl who has naturally big breasts WILL have hips. And curvacious ones. Unless you count the ridiculously gorgeous fictional women created by sexually deprived male authors. In short: THEY DON'T EXIST UNLESS WOMEN SURGICALLY MODIFY THEMSELVES.
That was part of the reason I did not like like going to school. I was expected to be super thin and discuss diets and how I wanted to get married. I mean, what the hell? Food is the one of the few good things left on this planet and if there'es anything I learned from watching all those cooking shows is to NOT to sacrifice on food. And marriage? I was fourteen for crying out loud. I wanted to discuss what career I wanted , NOT how many kids I want.
I hate not fitting in. I never do. Wherever I go, no matter how much I try. So I've given up on it. I've started working out again. Not because I want a perfect body, but because I want to make it to the school badminton team (varsity level). I don't try to make a new best friend because I already have an AMAZING ONE BACK HOME. My cyclothymia has thought me so much. Mostly that the world is a screwed up place. I'm still not comfortable being myself, but I am getting there. And I hope you do to.