Convincing a girl that she is a girl is “conversion therapy” but convincing a girl she is a boy is “affirmation therapy”.
That is in a nutshell the only proof anyone needs to show we are living in Bizarro World.
It’s all a matter of perspective.
I have a friend whose preteen daughter is dealing with suicidal thoughts and legitimate threats accompanied by gender dysphoria. All I can do is offer an ear to bend, so to my knowledge my friend and his wife are treating the suicidal thoughts before addressing the dysphoria, but I’m sure they’re not able to be completely unlinked from each other.
The family has taken to calling his daughter by her preferred male name and I think even pronouns.
My son isn’t even a year old yet, so I really don’t know what I don’t know. If when he’s five years old he asks to be called “Scuba Steve” and wear a snorkel to school, I feel like I’ll just go along to get along, knowing it’s a phase. Or I’ll drop the hammer, who knows. If he’s ten or eleven and strongly suicidal, I would probably refer to him as “her royal highness of the order of the Spaghetti Monster” if I thought it would buy me some time to get him therapy for his depression and keep him alive another day.
Treatment for a mental disorder should never include physical mutilation.
Convincing a girl that she is a girl is “conversion therapy” but convincing a girl she is a boy is “affirmation therapy”.
That is in a nutshell the only proof anyone needs to show we are living in Bizarro World.
It’s all a matter of perspective.
I have a friend whose preteen daughter is dealing with suicidal thoughts and legitimate threats accompanied by gender dysphoria. All I can do is offer an ear to bend, so to my knowledge my friend and his wife are treating the suicidal thoughts before addressing the dysphoria, but I’m sure they’re not able to be completely unlinked from each other.
The family has taken to calling his daughter by her preferred male name and I think even pronouns.
My son isn’t even a year old yet, so I really don’t know what I don’t know. If when he’s five years old he asks to be called “Scuba Steve” and wear a snorkel to school, I feel like I’ll just go along to get along, knowing it’s a phase. Or I’ll drop the hammer, who knows. If he’s ten or eleven and strongly suicidal, I would probably refer to him as “her royal highness of the order of the Spaghetti Monster” if I thought it would buy me some time to get him therapy for his depression and keep him alive another day.
Treatment for a mental disorder should never include physical mutilation.