Originally published in “Lindsay Shepherd, Jordan Peterson, and the Canadian Child Coddlers”. Click here to read the full article.
THERE IS NO “I”. There is no “Ryan”.
There never was a “Ryan”.
They have broken him. And now he sees beyond all linguistic barriers.
Witness his dissolution: his spirit breaking and dispersing, extending and linking with the other non-binary human spindles. He loses himself, but his fragments join and build a greater substance: Ryan identifies as THEY now; an anonymously fastened bundle of humanoid tissues. “I” is no more.
But they is great, and they measure their greatness not by what they am but what they am not. They am not male, they am not female. They multiply by mitotic division, awakening and reawakening to a gender blender of indefinite self-identity. Witness: the singularity of our plurality punctures the patriarchal insularity of masculinity; that oppressive labrynth. They fly via sturdy wax wings of flimsy, fluid facticity. Today, they am ZE. And tomorrow, they am XYR. Would you deny them their dignity? Hold your white tears, my pale-skin pal. (Apology denied!) Tithe away your sins to the Church of Equality. (Mercy granted!) ZER requires fiscal plenitude. XE demands your livelihood. (Every bit helps!) Hail Queen Bey. Hail Yoncé. (Explosion.) ZIM, our newest proselyte, protolojizzes protologisms into neo-colonial phallogostructuralisms. (Implosion.) Did you pass the Bechdel Test? (Well?) Down, Simba. Up, hyena! Enter: the year of the feliform pseudophallus; legally plated, scalpelly operated, transphilic clitoromegaly. What they want, with all their heart, is to make people happy — Live, Laugh, Love, or Die. (Applause! Applause!) SET detects toxic cisheteronormativity and deconstructs it w/ full anonymity. Exit: the patriarchy. (Au revoir!) Matt McGorry — Feminist AF. I’m with HIR/HEM. (Umm, “I” who?) Be happy. (Explosion.) And so the patriarchy takes its final form: the conspiratorial kyriarchy, by which: Some animals are more equal than others. (PHE‘s head hurts.) Embrace your weaknesses. Take a self-fellatious bite. Like a monoecious flower: a pregnant male virgin. (It’s possible!) #Resist the dissenter, the individual, the “I”. Collectivize, clone, and divide. And: DIE, “I”, DIE.
“Stop. You’ve gone too far!” they hear them cry. “Turn back.”
Ahh, yes — another charge added to their trial: “Enemy of PROGRESS.”
And they call them Legion, for they am many. And if they’re not with them, they’re against them. Every one of them — and every them of one.