The sign on the door.
All my life, that’s been the safe room. It’s safe to be there. Safe to pee there. Safe to change there. Safe to nurse a baby there. Safe to send a teen daughter. Safe to wait there. Our local department store.
Secure no more. Safe no more. The sacred is no more. Women does not mean women any more. Security has been breached, safety has been compromised, the sacred has been polluted. The sacred is now profane. The door has been swung wide open to pedophiles and other perversions—-this is wrong.
Not chic enough?
I was standing at the sink, washing my hands, waiting for my daughter… a man entered the restroom. His reflection was in the mirror before me. He entered the stall beside that which my daughter was occupying. I froze. I was eleven all over again. I was twelve all over again. I was thirteen all over again. And the mother of a young girl who should have been safe, able to use the *women’s* restroom in safety. Safe from the inappropriate gender in the women’s restroom. The mother in me became empowered to move any obstacle for her protection. Continuing to wash my hands, I watched in the mirror — gripped with emotion, gripped with injustice, gripped with protection, gripped with indignation at the magnitude of arrogance and self-centeredness of cross-dressing/transgendered/transsexual/female identifying man, etc.,etc., etc. _______ (fill in the lie) men… demanding provision and place for their perversion of truth. Consequently: the reality that there is no safe place. Anywhere.
As my daughter washed her hands, I felt like I could hardly breathe. I felt nearly powerless over the injustice of it all. I wanted to scoop her up as if she were a toddler – but she’s not, she’s a young woman — a potentially vulnerable young women. I felt angry that bullies have bombarded our society and have rejected God’s design and creation and have hijacked His created order in this way. I felt angry that there’s no safe place. No clean, pure place — that because of the feelings and lifestyle of a small percentage of people, I (and other women) am not free to use the women’s room for women’s needs, I’m not free to take my daughter to the women’s room, a room free for women and women’s needs. A surge of anger welled up in me that I must now be vigilant to watch for her, to protect her from men who may have ulterior motives. Men have no right and no honest/honourable business being in the women’s restrooms. Men who have bought into the lie and are deceived and deceiving others by the enemy of our souls. And because of this lie, women are no longer safe in public places once reserved for their care and protection for their needs.
Think I’m phobic over all this? No, no, not phobic at all. Incensed, yes. Phobic, no. And that’s just the monstrous deceit of the devil to mock or accuse people of fear or hate for things that are sinful or unbiblical/unscriptural. It’s not phobic or a phobia to stand against evil, sin or contradictions to God’s design.
Or will we lie down
and let lies prevail?
- An excellent article I just came across today. Suffering and the Heart of God