On the contrary: Wake up & smell the coffee
Some years ago, a random bunch of motor racing enthusiasts took a trip to Lah-Land, also known as Malaysia, to experience firsthand the thrills and spills of the Sepang Grand Prix. I have never understood why they call it a sport, subscribing to Valerio's views on the subject. "Eh my dear, 10 cockroach go round and round whole day, make beeg noise and then after feefty times rotation, one idiot open champagne and spray on the ground. Waste money, petrol and champagne." Anyway, the lads hit a bar on the way to the venue where one of them, let's call him Feat, was bowled over by the charms of a young lady whom he met on the premises. As the drinks flowed, her appeal blossomed as did their friendship with Feat paying loud tribute to her allure and personality. As the minutes ticked by to the flag-down, the gang got a little restive. Feat showed no signs of leaving and finally told his pals to carry on without him. “Fain would I take with me all that is here, but how shall I?” is how he may have phrased it had he been familiar with the poetry of Khalil Gibran.
At that point, moved by their collective desperation, the bartender intervened and took Feat aside for a gentle word. Not being present on the occasion, I am forced to rely on hearsay where it seems the guy paraphrased Sinatra. “See here lah, she look very beautiful-nice, and the lady maybe a tramp…but actually, my friend, you may get shock later because this lady is a man.” Feat didn't actually stamp his foot but apparently he flew into a rage and accused the hapless bartender of jealousy. As the song goes, “Oh the joys of love are fleeting, far removed from space and time.” Which brings me to my point: how “woke” you are depends on whether you identified with Feat or the transvestite. If you empathized with the bartender, then clearly you have other issues.
I first encountered the term “woke” in New Jersey when a hairy biker friend of mine sadly confided that he missed his best buddy who was also his mechanic. At the venerable age of 50, his mechanic buddy opted for transsexualism by surgery, going under the knife to become a woman. You don’t need a vivid imagination to figure out how much that unsettled my biker pal. When “transgenderism” first gained popularity, several enlightened people were quite chilled out. It seemed not only easier but kinder to acknowledge that a small minority who had discovered their “true gender” (whatever that meant) should be allowed to embrace it publicly. On an interpersonal level, it's nice to be nice. But in the public rough and tumble of debate even on a subject as touchy as gender ideology, clarity and assertiveness was and is still needed.
As Madeleine Kearns says, “Put it another way. If a Christian and an atheist appeared on a public platform to debate the subject of religion, and they avoided blasphemous language (i.e., denying or disrespecting divine revelation) at all costs, how could the atheist make a convincing case? How could he be frank and forceful if offending his opponent was his primary concern?”
Yet in the gender debate, one is required to be tactful and this prescribed orthodoxy is confining and has clearly been exploited. One is required to refer to the trans-woman as “she” which virtuously signifies the speaker’s wokeness and total acceptance of “her” literal and absolute femaleness. Perhaps the most famous example which caused an epidemic of carpal tunnel syndrome among the twitterati is when Ricky Gervais was accused of “transphobia” for roasting Caitlyn Jenner who was involved in a fatal car crash. “I’ve changed. Not as much as Bruce Jenner, obviously ... now Caitlyn Jenner,” Gervais told a star-studded audience at the Golden Globes. “What a year she’s had. She became a role model for trans people everywhere, showing great bravery in breaking down barriers and destroying stereotypes. She didn’t do a lot for women drivers, but you can’t have everything, can you?” As he shows us, we can laugh at bad things without being bad people.