Why Some Folks are Resistant to Transgender Rights and Why That’s Okay: A Folksy Commentary

Friends, neighbors, countrymen! Allow me to invite you on a little journey, where we’ll laugh, reminisce, and maybe even shed some light on a touchy subject. You see, I’m Mary – a proud 60-year-old woman hailing from the good ol’ U.S. of A. I’m about as conservative as the day is long, and I’m telling you, there’s more in this world that baffles me than you can shake a stick at.

Now, before you throw your hands up in defeat thinking this is another one of those preachy articles, hear me out. I promise you a good chuckle if you stick around until the very end. We might even have a few “a-ha” moments along the way.

There’s nothing like a healthy dose of reverse psychology, now, is there? And maybe, just maybe, we’ll get cozy understanding why some of us old-timers are resistant to the idea of transgender rights. Ain’t that something? Now, settle in your favorite armchair, sip on that sweet tea, and let’s get started. Remember, there’s no judgment here – just a folksy walk down memory lane with a hefty side of humor. First off, let’s rewind a little.

You gotta understand that us folks over 50 – we didn’t grow up with terms like ‘non-binary’ and ‘gender fluid.’ Heck, back in the day, the only thing fluid in our lives was the milk you had to use up before it turned sour in your icebox, if you catch my drift.

The world wasn’t obsessed with pronouns; we were too busy figuring out how to fix that darn car engine ourselves! Now, some of y’all might be thinking, ‘But Mary, don’t you want everyone to be happy?’ Of course, I do! But happiness is a tricky thing, and it didn’t used to come with all these bells and whistles. We found joy in simpler things, like grandma’s apple pie cooling on the windowsill or singing our hearts out in church like nobody was watching.

So when some folks come around demanding that we switch pronouns faster than you can say ‘Jack Robinson,’ it can feel a bit – what’s the word – overwhelming. More so, it can feel like our cherished way of life is under siege. Imagine hearing that sacred Sunday sermon and then being asked to accept notions that clash with your lifelong beliefs.

Understandably, it makes folks dig in their heels. You see, America was built on the sturdy blocks of predictable gender roles. Men were the breadwinners, women the homemakers, and that’s the way it was. So when folks start shifting those blocks around without asking, it feels like someone’s messing with the foundation of our household.

It’s like suddenly being told you no longer need a hammer to build a birdhouse, but instead, you should use a spoon! Bless our hearts if that doesn’t make a lick of sense. And don’t get me started on the young folks today, hootin’ and hollerin’ about cancel culture.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard my grandkids say, ‘Well, you can’t say that anymore, Grandma, that’s offensive!’ Since when did we all get so butterfinger-sensitive? Back in my day, our skin was thicker than Aunt Gertie’s Thanksgiving gravy. We’d rib each other all day long, and no one’s feelings got hurt. If anything, it’s making people more resistant.

Clamping down on free speech and traditional values in the name of wokeness just gets our hackles up. There I go, preaching to the choir, but let’s stay on course. Now, I ain’t saying that change is all bad. Change, as they say, is the only constant.

But, mercy me, it’s a marathon for us as we try to keep up with the new-fangled ideas shooting past us like the bullet train. In the old days, things moved at a slower pace, giving people the sweet time to adjust. So when the world goes all higgledy-piggledy, throwing new gender norms at us faster than you can recall Ernest saves Christmas, some folks can’t help but feel like they’re standing knee-deep in quicksand.

But here’s the kicker, sticking to your guns doesn’t mean you hate the other side. Now, isn’t that a novel idea? I love my neighbor as much as the next gal, and I’m sure as sugar not about to judge someone for how they live their life, even if I don’t understand it. My mama always said, ‘Mary, bless your heart, God gave us two ears for a reason – to listen twice as much as we speak.’

You best believe I’m listening, even if I keep my own convictions close to my chest. So where does that leave us? Well, sometimes it’s about finding that delicate balance. You hold onto your traditions with one hand while trying to understand the whirlwind of new ideas with the other. It’s a journey, let me tell you. Some of us more seasoned folks resist transgender rights because it asks us to rewire decades of ingrained habits and beliefs. It’s not an act of defiance; it’s an act of self-preservation.

We were baptized in one era and are trying to swim in another; sometimes, the waters get choppy. So the next time you see someone like me shaking their head or furrowing their brow at the topic, just remember, it’s a vast ocean of change we’re trying to navigate.

Patience, empathy, and humor – that’s the key, friends. Just be glad we’re all here, living in this mad, beautiful world together. Hang tight, God bless, and don’t forget to laugh along the way. Now you can go on about your day all the wiser, or at least a tad more entertained.

And that, my friends, is why I don’t set sail on the woke ship, but I’m not about to throw anyone overboard either. Peace, love, and a whole lot of apple pie – that’s the Mary way.


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