If I was a man, it has been surmised; I would suck it up and meet the day's challenges with a renewed vigor and steadfast determination. I would not languish in the aftermath of social amputation, as though a soldier had survived the barrage of enemy shelling.
This was a very curious dialogue to receive, for I knew instinctively that it had been delivered with the intent of passive - aggressive malice. The imagery in my mind's eye constituted a smiling horde of onlookers, delighted at the sight of a public bludgeoning; a battery, using my own war-torn limbs to further degrade and humiliate me in my time of need. The mockery would sound off with each grisly thud upon my body by way of my detached arms: "Why are you hitting yourself? Does that feel good? You have nobody to blame but yourself!"
If I was a woman, the onlookers would reel back in horror; with fearful expectancy of the public shaming that would certainly be theirs to bear. A goddess, with so much responsibility heaped upon her plate without request, having to manage the historically-validated oppression by our patriarchal structure, surely must be picked up, dusted off, and moved to the front of the line for all to see.
If the others were to discover this atrocious behavior being directed at the sacred feminine, the odds would favor being branded with a label that doesn't bode well with modern modalities of acceptance.
If I was an onlooker, I would quickly point to others amongst me, insisting that the source was to be found at the finger's direction. After all, I was only an innocent bystander, swept up in the emotion, not rightfully discerning the consequences of my actions. The source of this chaos is what needs to be dealt with. I'm only an onlooker, whose new definition has been scientifically-certified to prove my innocence at times which require proper response.
If I was the source of the instigation being foisted upon a man, I could blame the Republicans for their capitalist ideologies, and I could hold a press conference that would incriminate a lineage of right-wing bigots for poisoning the well of consciousness.
If I was the source of treachery being delivered upon the gender formerly known as "female", I could only plead forgiveness from my victim. My ignorance, in concert with my insolence, is the product of confusion; never realizing that I erred in my thought process, having supposed that a woman was not a man, and therefore not subject to conceptualized punishment at the hands of my own predisposition to believe and act as I'm told.
If I was the victim, I would ridicule the author for his lack of attention and sensitivity to using the proper pronoun; whether or not said pronoun was imaginary or recently-created. I would continue to point out that the real issue was not the improper pronoun recognition, as scarring as that may be, but rather; the failure to realize that a Democracy cannot allow for anybody's truth to overshadow my facts. Just look at the mob that has been summoned, after all. You made them beat me down with a violent language, while they had originally only gathered to physically cause me injury.
If I was today's American culture, I would examine the entirety of the situation at hand, and be able to decisively draw conclusions based on popular talking points, as to what manner of creature it is that I am dealing with. It is (as it must be) quite clear for all to see, because none of us can withstand the domestic terrorists' attempts to label us as racist, or homophobic, or useful idiots or a useless eaters. Put the logistics aside and repeat the non-conformist's oath to "not repeat what others say" ... then stifle the pity born of compassion's weakness, and put your yoke of woke superiority upon its proper mantle.
If I was an expert who had Federal funding, I could say whatever I wanted to say that they told me I could say about the results of my controlled studies, and I would thereby garner great respect from the highly-intellectual communi(s)ty. I could have absolute confidence that my findings, as an expert; were irrefutable proof of what you are required to accept as gospel.
If I was a white man, I'd know the de facto American culture was looking at me; knowing that I must not be allowed entrance into what was once on its way to becoming the even playing field that the de jure American culture was cultivating.
If I was being pointed at, I'd ask where the "tolerance" had gotten off to, that was expected of me at every turn, but now absent while persecution was being heralded as a righteous endeavor for all other ears to hear. I'd remind the ever-eager throng that critical race theory is a religion that has deemed me incapable of being anything but a racist, as I was born of its whiteness. Or was I?
If I was thinking as I ought to be thinking, according to what the new age scientists and gender-affirming biologists have confirmed for our embracement and compliance; I can't really know that I'm a man. Folks with lab coats and laminated name tags, showcasing expensive abbreviations by way of letters before and / or behind their names, will readily tell you this as a truth.
How much less identifiable must I be, based on a skin color? Shades of grey are beholden only to the eye, and with my eye, I may spy a hue of man or a woe of man whose color is matched to his / her / their / blanket's / its attitude. That color may not exist on our palettes in the paint aisle, and perhaps it's altogether indescribable.
If I was the one who was judging another by the color of the skin, I would have to be ashamed for not knowing anything about the heart and mind and mannerisms of the subject of my judgment. I would also have to condemn myself for not taking the time to study the natural science of melanin, and the indivisible relationship of pigmentation that all belongs to the same family.
If I was one of the monsters that supports any of the machinations for division that are presently being described and currently being hurled at our children ...
If I was part of a group of sadists that encouraged genital mutilation or the legalization of paedophilia ...
If I was a member of a Registry that protected criminals in public offices ...
Whether a man, a woman, a pronoun, a color, a state of confusion, or a scholar of hope ...
I would cry the entire weight of my body's water; that the flesh left behind could remind others like myself ... that the future is dependent upon our ability to see through the lies; our willingness to walk in the light; our cooperation to restore compassion; our agreement to disagree; our allowance of another's inherent right to express freedom of thought, speech and movement; and our ability to refrain from causing harm to others with that freedom.
If I was overly-sensitive, had no sensitivity, or was without common sense; I would be offended, be unmoved, or be unable to grasp this story; respectively.