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Transgender Madness: For All the
Children Being Harmed Beyond Repair
inspired by When Harry Became Sally
by Ryan T. Anderson
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I. At age 5: the tomboy
I cared not for the Barbie dolls in pink;
I chased the balls, with boisterous boys I ran;
My teacher said to me, You know, I think…
Your soul is trapped, but change you can:
A simple her to his, a she to he!
A change of language makes your essence alter,
Henceforth to set your shackled true self free;
Have no fear, my child, you cannot falter!
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II. At age 10: en route to barrenness
I felt some stirrings, vague presentiments
Of waters troubled deep within my flesh.
Quickly I confided in my parents,
Who sought sage experts for perspectives fresh:
Just as we build some dams to ebb the flow,
So can we alter nature’s course in you,
They claimed: Pubescent signs we now must slow.
They nipped the blossom in its bud anew.
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III. At age 15: wreaking hormonal havoc
Thus day by day my childhood slipped away,
And further down the sterile path went I;
You’d blocked my puberty without dismay,
Now from hormonal treatment did not shy,
Testosterone injections dared inflict.
What future fate does this for me portend?
My heart’s despair could you then not predict,
Nor not foresee some truly tragic end?
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IV. At age 18: time for transformation
The time has come your gender to affirm,
Now for the doctor’s art to be deployed,
A surgeon’s knife your new self to confirm.
What use a worthless womb forever void,
Destined to bear no infant sweet and mild?
What use these barren breasts, no milk to hold,
Meant not to nurture life, nor nourish child?
Now let’s remove these organs; they’ve grown cold!
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V. At 30, a wounded child still
Do you remember me, the wounded child?
Now look into my eyes my soul to see…
The pain you caused to me, so meek, so mild,
While blindly trying hard to set me free.
This child I am, now harmed beyond repair;
A broken, barren being: this I am;
And yet I once had been a child so fair,
But you made me a sacrificial lamb.
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VI. At 35, a would-be mother
What false divinities do you adore?
Before whose alters do you sacrifice?
So many children’s lives forever more
Destroyed, betrayed due to your horrid vice!
I am the living barren dead. So hard
It is for me to live this fruitless life;
A mutilated, sterile body marred,
A wombless would-be mother, childless wife.
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VII. At 40, shuffling off this mortal coil
No longer wife, abandoned and alone,
Nor mother could I truly hope to be.
Why prolong the pain? Why forever moan?
My aching heart can bear no more: to flee…
This weary life is all I long to do.
So shall I shuffle off this mortal coil?
… This suffering soul self-slaughter didn’t eschew,
Before the deadly deed did not recoil;
A disembodied soul from this earth flew…
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VIII. A Prayer
Oh Mother Mary, hear our fervent prayer:
These children cry for help to heaven high;
Sweet Virgin, cloak them in your mantle fair,
And be their true hope, heaven’s sweet ally;
In your maternal love envelope them,
And show them your compassion, deep and true;
As nigh the cradle once in Bethlehem,
Watch them from golden dawn to midnight blue.
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Karen Darantière is an American living in France who teaches English language and literature at a French high school in Paris.
Karen,
So poignantly powerful!
What a great soliloquy illuminating agony! You handled a sensitive modern issue with aplomb.
This poem is potent, sincere, and well written, clearly presented too. You speak your suffering and cause though Pro Choice fights you every way.
Your poem is chilling. And the photograph – so empty. And they dare call this education? What a cruel travesty.
Wow, Karen, your poem brought tears to my eyes for the speaker and other women like her, having girlhood aborted by modern culture’s latest deception. You might like some other poems written on the same subject here (just search under “transgender”).
The devil hates motherhood and will do anything to take it out of women. If more parents could see this, maybe some girls could be spared.
Karen, your poem presents a powerfully tragic story of a child whose life is a long agony because adults torture her. Children have no defense against parents, teachers, and doctors too abusive to exercise social responsibility. Stanza VI does suggest that there was a sympathetic spouse for a while, but a lifetime of abuse is poor preparation for either marriage or parenthood. How well you show in verse that transgender madness is the diabolical foe of health and happiness!
Well stated Dr. Coats!
Karen, your heartrending poem really does bring the “Transgender Madness” of the title to the fore. It highlights the agony lurking beneath the pretty promises offered by those pushing this abuse. “Children Beyond Repair” is the agonizing result of confused and coerced children being drugged and mutilated. I hope your poem reaches all those fooled by this insanity. Thank you for your poem and your sincerity.
Exceedingly well said. The people exploiting the trans craze in order to perform mastectomies and castration on children should be called what they are: sadistic paedophiles.
My dear poetess,
This poem though overflowing with sadness, is one of the best I ever read here!
Being barren, to our society is fast moving to be a great thing? What they are doing to children in public schools is criminal…
Abortion, the wanton murder of innocents, is cruel.
As for schools? To change sex by pronoun change is
madness?
Some women do not understand, that having many abortions can make them sterile!
I hope to see more of your fabulous, emotive works in future. This poem is a gift! Thank you!
Thank You for your brave and truthful sentiments in this poem!
And thanks especially for the beautiful closing prayer to the powerful and loving mother who can bring grace even to the most miserable soul who appeals to her. Mary, Mother of Jesus, beg Him to heal at last these children who have been failed by everyone else.