The World’s An Uglier Place Than I Ever Imagined

The World’s An Uglier Place Than I Ever Imagined…

There were some hashtags involved in that title. Hashtags that expressed my rage, unfiltered, shoot-from-the-hip, don’t you fucking mess with this mother of a trans kind of outrage.

I had quotes and links, arguments and counter-arguments. I asked Firstborn… will you look at this, should I just delete it?

She read it, twice. “No, this needs to be said. Post it.” Then she said, “There’s one typo.” That’s my girl!

I saved the 1500+ word rantalicious diatribe to draft, made dinner and then returned to the laptop, poised to hit ‘send’. But, oops! wait a mo… gotta fix that typo. That’s when I noticed, three-quarters of the post had vanished, the quoted passages had turned into html or Mandarin (for me it’s a toss-up) and if I wanted to get that furiousity (it’s my blog, I can make up words if I want to) out there, I’d need to start over.

Crap on a stick.

We went to see Finding Dory instead. I stewed in my considerable juices until we got home. BTW: not quite as good as Finding Nemo, but the animation was jaw-dropping and it was a splendid message for kids about acceptance and being different.

Of course, by the time we got home, it was late so I tabled the rage for the next day.

Cue birds twittering, coffee perking, sunshine streaming in the window, a cool breeze, me in the recliner, laptop on lap, opened to Word Press and my blog… and nothing, nada, zilch, zippo.

The rage was dead, shriveled into a nugget of why bother. I waited out the entire day, and still nothing.

Oh the rage is still there, make no mistake, but here’s the deal…

This world’s become a cesspool of outrage. Of bullet-riddled bodies, innocent victims and blood-spattered memorials to the insanity of ideology and religion and entitlement. Each and every day, there’s new evidence of tyranny, of people being censored and stalked and falsely accused on social media. Hourly we are privy to fresh hells on so many levels it’s impossible to keep up, let alone absorb the implications, to understand the consequences, or to prepare yourself for a reaction, a plan, a way to make sense of senselessness.

We are inundated with a tsunami of ugliness, hate and vile acts of inhumanity against the innocent, the vulnerable, the young and old, the least able to defend themselves.

I asked myself: why add to that? Why be just another drop in the ocean? Why become nothing more than background noise? Why speak up at all?


I’ll tell you why: history.

And if you don’t understand that simple statement, I assure you… you will be doomed to repeat it endlessly. If you survive.

Here’s what the rage was about, in shorthand form:

  1. Petitions to isolate the trans community from the LGB umbrella
  2. Accusations that being trans means you are mentally ill so your ‘disability’ is inimical to LGB ideology, goals and way of life
  3. Accusations that trans people are a danger to families, to women and children
  4. Studies that show women don’t feel welcome at LGB Pride events and why

There’s more, oh lordy… so much more it staggered me, made me sick, heartsick. Here are some examples of links I discovered: PETITION, TRANS COLLECTIVE AUTISM, TRANS AGENDA, WOMEN & PRIDE

None of this was a surprise to my daughter. She’s spent years researching and coming to grips with the very unique form of misogyny evolving, to the invective, the hate and lies, the male privilege and cult of special interests that has coalesced around an ideology based on fear and misinformation.

That’s what fueled my rage.

Shades of the sixties, times a thousand thousand.

I had shouted in that aborted blog post…


I’m still shouting…

Yeah, there it is… the rage. Welcome back, old friend.

Don’t fucking mess with a mother of a trans.

Peace to all of us in these troubling times.


About Nya Rawlyns

Nya Rawlyns doesn’t write typical romance. She writes emotion as a contact sport, rough and often raw. It need not be pleasant, heart-warming or forever after. What she seeks is what lies beneath—a dance of extremes, the intersect of need and desire, and the compromises we make when pain and pleasure become indistinguishable. ***** She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. ***** When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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8 Responses to The World’s An Uglier Place Than I Ever Imagined

  1. mo883mpetersdesires says:

    You are a shining light in Ro’s life, a beacon of such assured acceptance and protective love that, long before YOU knew, she knew she would be able to discover all of this, process it, strive to change it – or at least change, if necessary, a couple of the minds closest to her – because your love for her, your unwavering acceptance, was her home, her shelter, her strength. And this will always be. She will know, always, that the person most important to her, will always rage against the hate, the blind eyes, the hypocrisy, and the apathy. You have given her the strength she has, because you love her so well.

    Never stop believing that, for it will always, always, always be love that conquers not hust hate, but its true worst enemy – apathy. And YOU are her beacon of love and acceptance.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Nya Rawlyns says:

      I’m just a mom. Doing my job. But thank you ❤

      Liked by 1 person

      • Roz Lee says:

        In a world where too many parents have forgotten, or never understood, their role in their children’s lives, you are a lovely, rare bird. Don’t sell yourself short.

        Liked by 2 people

      • I love HISTORY. Even more, I love learning from it!

        Thank you for always being the voice that I could not be when my best friend was experiencing pain and confusion and loss.

        I didn’t always understand and I lost her. I loved her when she was him. I loved her while she was transitioning. I loved showing her how to wear makeup and dress to accommodate her new shape. I love her even now that she is gone. She was my best friend and I loved her. I didn’t speak up nearly enough.

        SCREAM, RAGE, HASHTAG but most important…listen, hear, love! Share. You touch me so deeply.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. billkirton says:

    They’re even managing to refine and categorise their ugliness and vitriol nowadays. You’ll prevail. So will Ro. X

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Soooz says:

    I wish I had words to wrap you both in, that would offer an impenetrable barrier of protection. I wish there was some way to shield all the folks on this planet who feel, love, care, suffer and die for, or because of, their beliefs … or lack of them. The original #hashtag of hate was inked into the skins of millions of Jews who were murdered because they didn’t fit in to the belief system of a psycopath named Hitler … or his brain-washed followers.History. The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior … History. We can’t rewrite it. BUT we can give those that come after us a different one to remember. We can and must change the #hashtags of separation … until the only #hashtag that remains…is #HUMAN. I care, I share the rage. I will do all that I can as a human being to help make my Grandson’s world a place where being different doesn’t carry a #hashtag of hate. You have my support, love and understanding. Always. x


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