Hey, “I’m Your Mom Now”:
That’s sweet that you want to give my kid a hug because you think I’m a lousy parent and should be replaced by you.
Are you also going to feed this kid all his meals from now on? pack his lunch for school every day? buy him clothes? drive him to his activities? pay his activity fees? cover his library fines? buy his medication? replace the retainer he lost? Are you going to attend the parent-teacher conferences? field calls from the teacher, the principal, the school clinic? take care of the hermit crab he brought home from a trip to the beach with friends and then lost interest in?
Were you there back when he got pushed off the swing and came running to Mom for comfort and justice? Did you take him to the pediatrician when he ran a 104-degree fever, or when he fell off the jungle gym and hit his head on the way down? Did you clean it up when he barfed all over his bed—or all over you—in the middle of the night? Did you get the ketchup out of his favorite white shirt? Did you mediate fights with his siblings? Did you cover for him so his dad thought you were the one who broke the remote?
Did you teach him how to use the toilet? make scrambled eggs? do long division? slow dance? write an essay? a check? a cover letter?
Will you be putting him on your car insurance? health insurance? life insurance? paying for college?
Are you going to be there for him, years after people like you tell him, “You should absolutely pump your body full of synthetic hormones and surgically alter your genitals,” when he grows up and wakes up and realizes he’s infertile, incontinent, and incapable of experiencing sexual pleasure? when he’s devastated and angry and asking you why you didn’t protect him from himself and from society because that was your job as his mom?
Nope. I know where you’ll be then. You’ll be on to hugging the next confused and misled kid, demonstrating your valiant wokeness in the public square, telling yourself that you’re the real mom and that those of us fighting with everything we have to save our children from people like you are bigoted and hateful and bad parents.
You’re not my kid’s mom. You never were and you never will be. Go screw up your own kid’s life and stay away from mine. I’m not his problem. You are.
-- Real Mom
The above letter was written by the parent of a transgender-identified child. The parent wishes to remain anonymous to protect her child's privacy.