The plaudits landed in a deluge.
So happy for you, girl!
Couldn’t be more thrilled!
Love your strength and honesty!
Never be anyone but you!
You’ve always made me proud, never more so than today.
That last line was from the grandmother of a young woman about whom a florid Facebook fuss had just been raised. Her circle of friends, family, and distant acquaintances had uniformly fallen into panting heat over a recent life proclamation. This being a celebratory cause that would have normally evaded my attention if not for a tersely worded alert from a sibling:
Look at this.
So what event do you imagine had so many e-hens clucking their approval? A wedding? Birth of a child? Promotion? Book tour? Admission to space camp?
No. The young woman had announced she was a lesbian.
What a difference vertical message control can make. The power of which I no longer question. For there are few more impressive displays of its potency than seeing an elderly matron cheering the end of her lineage in service to a lifestyle fashion that would have elicited disgust in her own younger self.
To those like her granddaughter, renouncing the vestiges of Western civilization has become a sort of bat mitzvah for butler-class goys. In contemplating her orientation declaration, the girl must have considered children, family, tradition, and an enduring posterity. But those were all dead ends. Only social media likes live forever. And what liberals would offer those for something so prosaic as heterosexual marriage?
Thus with her own reproductive imperative now sublimated, any lingering maternal instincts will have to be assuaged by sitting on a cuckoo’s egg. As a result that liberal grandmother can look forward to even more euphoria from chasing adopted black cherubs in her dotage. Though for the lesbo-schizo granddaughter, sacrificing the birth of her own children to raise those from Africa does offer the allure of lavish Facebook praise. And what is the wonder of looking into a child’s eyes to that?