I Took Your Pills & They Didn’t Change a Thing, Mary
cisgendered women are our intellectual rapists of toxic masculine pharmaceutical compliance culture | just get high and forget
I Took Your Pills & They Didn’t Change a Thing, Mary
cisgendered women are our intellectual rapists of toxic masculine pharmaceutical compliance culture | get high and forget
an essay by Daphne
I’m a trans woman in America. I have been brain damaged by emotional and physical abuse while transitioning. Beyond that, I have faced a mounting post-traumatic stress, ever compounding, by the loneliness and sorrow my station provides me; trans women are a sexually used up and forever blamed community.
Education on the late age gender transition is lacking. I’ve essentially grown into a damaged feminine self with brutal trauma walls in every direction, by predominantly the women in my life who have decided to teach me the way their male abusers taught them.
Women don’t offer me community. They offer me judgement and misconceptions of femininity as a competition. They offer me genuine platitudes about the way things are, and how nobody gives women compassion. They also have told me that women sometimes attack other women and that’s the way it is.
There is no earned sense of womanhood by my estimation; it’s not something one earns through trauma or abuse; that is solely about a heartful resonance of synchronicity with the concepts of flexibility, gracious compassion, and caring forgiveness. It’s about strength in the heart—it’s about honesty with emotion.
Still, every conception of womanhood is valid. Unless it’s about women abusing each other into taking on inverted toxic male privilege and entitlement as their own. I say inverted because women rape people intellectually and heartfully—it’s a believed reparation for the epigenetic history of physical rape and inborn sense of victimization.
Believe me… I know physical rape of women by men is a prominent and horrifying thing we have not escaped as a species of humanoid. It’s the number one thing we all live with day to day—our women hate everything.
They hate nothing more than a male woman who is of heartful, gracious, flexibly compassionate resonance expecting fair treatment in terms of empathetic honoring of their goodwill. If they see that… it’s teaching time.
With me, this has become my great wall of post-traumatic stress unescapable in every direction I turn.
I’m wanted by men. I’m supported as a feminine creature who needs kindness and compassion by men. I’m even affirmed for my beauty by men who see me as a beautiful creature.
Women hate me through and through, for my compassionate nature and gentle expectations that they do not destroy me and treat me with any little bit of womanly community.
Community of womanhood does not exist. It’s about competition. It’s about striving towards taking on masculine ideals and applying them broadly upon the world intellectually. It’s about gaslighting, passing the buck on accountability, and projecting their rapist nature on all who have feelings that make them uncomfortable.
Mostly, it’s about masking with pharmaceuticals and expecting all others do the same.
Love your pills, like your pets, earn that money, get real pretty, and rape the world—that’s the modern ethos of cisgendered women which they have tried to teach me.
I once told a woman that I had never once received a compassionately offered hug after being abused and losing my parental rights, livelihood, and entire life.
Their words (not hers, for this is not a woman to me): “You’re going to be very disappointed if you expect people to care about your feelings.”
Yes… that’s true if you propagate it.
Later, she told me about abusive situations she’d survived in childhood—I went and hugged her. She told me about a miscarriage—I went and hugged her. She told me about a head injury undertaken when getting on a sex trafficker’s boat—I went and hugged her.
Each time, I asked, “Is it okay if I give you a hug?”
I will admit; I was trying to teach.
When I cried about losing my daughter, suffering abuse, and being traumatized by restraining orders put on me by women that I was reaching out to for help…
She didn’t listen, latched on to the words restraining orders, and told me plainly, “No means no.”
Cisgendered women are insulating themselves from the truth. Cisgendered women are no longer anything but toxic masculinity’s ultimate propagators. Cisgendered women are rapists of our hearts.
Men who stand beside them are their dogs. Trans women who take a place beside them as their physical, emotional, and intellectual rape victims are their dogs.
To not be a cisgendered woman’s intellectual rape dog is to be dead to them.
They won’t care. Their pills and drugs and sex addiction will help them forget while they run off ignoring the fact they are essentially disabled by culture, pharmaceuticals, and technology itself—physically raping themselves with sexual situations that harden their psychosis existentially.
Cisgendered women want to make you into the psychotics they have become.
Fuck them. Womanhood is back and its name is Daphne. When I meet another woman, I will let you know.
Your pills are not the answer. Your social systems overrun by intellectual rapist women are not the answer. Your compliance to getting home and grasping your privilege is not the answer.
Trans men… shame on you for hiding with these wretches and letting the Earth’s gift of femininity to us all (trans women) die in the gutter while you clamor for that privilege you’re offered for having a vagina.
I’m ashamed to be an American. Trans people in the United States, and around the world, are a gift of reborn connection to masculinity and femininity which the cisgendered people have lost to a pill-ridden homogenization. Hearts are gone—minds are bled—and the only thing that matters is money to everyone but a rarest breed.
It’s mostly men. It’s mostly cisgendered men who are now the bleeding hearts of our society. The kind men out there are raped worst of all intellectually and play the role of supplicant to the horrors of cisgender women propagated upon us all.
For trans masculine people to punch down on trans feminine folks for their mommies and daddies, their cisgendered monster girlfriends and sex object lifestyles—it’s destroying the people which Earth wants us to be.
Trans women are our traditional women of femininity now—but we don’t want them. Our world is composed of a bunch of toxic masculine rapists who love their pills and privilege afforded.
To the hearts in all—the good women of all make—the strong hearted men of all make—resist.
Hope is not dead unless we let it die. Cowards everywhere are selling their souls and hearts—trans feminine amorous people—for sex trade culture which is enjoyed only because they are raping their mind and hearts with pharmaceuticals and technology which wants them as compliant robots of the way things are.
It’s Donald Trump’s way… the sex trade way…
Enjoy your world, psychopaths. I will not take your numbing pills except for those moments I must sleep despite the horror which surrounds me completely. I will not lay with men just because cisgendered women and trans masculine folks are dragging each other to hell over the corpses of trans women.
I will survive for my daughter and fight you all to the end.
Especially you, Mary—the monster who took my life by being the intellectual and heartful rapist of rapists.
I just needed you to treat me with a tiny bit of dignity and compassion—to offer a conversation for my traumatized mind. Yet you refused and drove me mad over again because you are that rapist of rapists. Get fucked—retarded mean girl.
What are you going to do? Take everything from me all over again?
That one person who will always love you most,
Daphne
I really believe in Daphne’s Hometree—nobody else does though. There isn’t enough rape and pharma compliance baked in—seems it’s riddled with too much hope for anyone to do anything but laugh at.
Good for you all, psychopaths.
