Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Hmmmm... Why Not Just Castrate Them?

All right, I'll admit it.  Perhaps the title is a wee bit drama queen'ish, but I am after all a DIVA.  That's why our blog is called Autism DIVA Help.  A little help for you, a little help for me, and everyone gets a hug at the end of the post.  Yes, even the men.  You may now uncross your legs.  I'm not on a man hating mission, I'm on a man SAVING mission.

That's right, the Diva is wanting to save men, you read it right.  I know...  shocking as you probably think I hate men with a passion.  This is not true, I love men.  This is why I have so much trouble with them.  My son is a male, so to hate men would mean I hate my son, and y'all know that could be farther from the truth.  Also, my "dad" Paul Humphreys has been a blessing in my life, and is one of the most amazing people I have had the pleasure of knowing.  And he's a man.

Let's get to the point.

Schools and society are emasculating our sons and I'm sick of it.

A little harsh?  I don't think so.

Remember when we were kids?  I do.  I was a tom boy, and my mom and dad were far from rich.  They owned their own home.  That's where the money ended.  They both worked their butts off, day and night.  As a result, I had to learn how to cook (burn food would describe it far better) at an early age.

Did I ever play house?  Yup, sure did.  Did I play with barbies?  Yup, my neighbour had two and she shared hers with me.  I had a bike, thanks to my grandma Barcic, and a deflated soccer ball.  We lived across a large field, and that's where I played soccer with the neighbourhood kids.  Soccer and...  wait for it...

Cowboys and Indians.  Cops and Robbers.  Partisans and Nazi's.  Growing up in communist Slovenija, World War II was talked about often.  Especially Tito.  Anyways...  my point is that we pretended to shoot each other.  If we didn't have toy guns (which was my case), we (I) picked up a stick and pretended it was a rifle or gun.  "Ratatatapow."

Have I shot a real rifle?  Yes, my dad taught me when I was 8 years old. Have I killed anyone when I grew up?  NOPE.  I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it.  I once held a pillow over Glen's face when he slept, but the gurgling made me feel guilty and I quit (KIDDING!!!...  or am I???).  Have I threatened to kill anyone?  NOPE.  Do I own a gun?  NOPE.  Have I brought a gun to school or my work place?  (I can almost hear my past employers holding their breath...  wonder if I should answer this one...)?  Relax, NOPE.  Have I thought of shooting an employer, co-worker, ex boyfriends, ex friends, etc?  NOPE.  Sure haven't.  (Is that a sigh of relief I hear?)  Am I a violent person?  NOPE.  Just keep your distance from my son and I'll behave like a perfect lady.  Even when a daycare and school physically abused my son, I didn't lay a finger on anyone responsible for hurting my babe.  This is where you need to go back to the beginning of this paragraph where I say I've thought about killing someone, or at the very least, maiming someone.

Nowadays, boys are not allowed to play or pretend to play with guns anymore.  Video games depicting guns are frowned upon.  I don't know how many times Dayton's school insinuated that I was an unfit parent because Dayton's father "exposed" him to violent video games.  Isn't it funny how that works?  Glen does it, I get blamed for it.  I even have a copy of Dayton's level III funding application where the guidance counsellor states that I EXPOSED DAYTON TO VIOLENT VIDEO GAMES...  made Dayton's home a "hostile environment" during a difficult time in my marriage...  among other things... Ugh...

Nowadays, our boys are expected to sit pretty at their desks at school the whole day, unless of course it's time to hit the gym.  And if your child fits on the autism spectrum...  or has ADHD...  prepare to receive the worst parent's award of the month, every month.

I remember sitting through a service in which the pastor stopped his sermon and addressed his congregation.  He said:  "gentlemen, let's face it.  We all married 'up.'  Ladies, please, bear with your husbands.  There is scientific proof that the human fetus, up until about six to seven weeks after conception is technically FEMALE.  After the said six to seven weeks, the embryo that has inherited the 'Y' chromosome endures a hormonal bath which actually damages their brain and alters its structure.  You could say we're brain damaged ladies!!!"

The hormone the pastor talked about is called testosterone.  Testosterone is the hormone responsible for social dominance.  All throughout history, even the caveman days, it was the male that was the dominant force in society, not the female.  The men went out and hunted, fought for territory,  were builders, made weapons, fought wars and physically protected what was theirs.  The women were the maintainers and caretakers of their home and family.

Hormones dictate how we relate to each other.  Numerous experts believe boys are more assertive, take risks, fight, argue, and their determination to live on the edge of disaster is linked to testosterone AND to the way their brain has been altered during their hormonal bath in utero.  It is also responsible for boys' desire from a very, very early age (toddler hood) to be the toughest, bravest, rootin-shootin hombre in the west.  Or the strongest soldier fighting for our freedom.  This is the way GOD made them!!!

I am NOT a fan of guns, at least not now as an adult.  Would I prefer my son be passive and sit all day to make my life easier?  Absolutely.  There are days where I'd just like to RELAX...  But let's face it.  Boys are not born to sit around.  They're meant to run, jump, play recklessly, wrestle, and be loud.  Now let's add PDD-NOS, ADHD, OCD and ODD to the mix.  Booyah!  There is NO rest, PERIOD.  Autism is pretty much family traits intensified by 100.  So, Dayton's a boy (which means he's naturally not able to sit around as it is) with autism (holly crap, hang on tight and fasten your seat belts, because we gotta multiply the squirminess by 100).  Let's not forget Dayton's OCD...  meaning he perseverates over things like guns...  and being a boy...  and SpongeBob...  and missing the toilet...  grrr...

What is the alternative here?  Shave his legs, put him in a dress and call him Daytona?  NOT!!!  Have my boy 'snipped?'  NOT!!!

Whether I like it or not, whether the school system likes it or not, my boy is ALL BOY.  So are the other boys out there.  Short of castrating them so they stop producing testosterone, there is nothing else for us to do but to ACCEPT the fact that they are BOYS.  And we need our boys!!!

Have you ever googled emasculation of men?  I dare you.  It's all about castration.  In a sense, this is what society is doing to our kids, but expecting boys to behave like GIRLS!!!

Consider yourselves hugged,


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