The Human Zoo - Mrs Don't Assume My Kid’s Gender

At 8:15am a beautiful baby is born into the world. The doctor smiles at Helen, “congratulations, it's a girl!” Helen’s icy stare penetrates the doctor like an Eskimo's tampon, “how DARE you assume my child’s gender!”

Helen demands to speak to the head of the department and lodges a formal complaint against the genderist doctor. All the while, her husband stands meekly in the corner proving that perhaps a dickless entity can indeed be male.

Being a proud Claremont family, it is important that the young’n be enrolled in a same-sex private school. Now, she could enroll her child in a co-ed public school but there isn’t enough Napisan in the world to clean that skidmark off their family name. No. It is the private schools that must accommodate her self indulgent fuckery.

She is advised by a leading all girls private school that they accept gender neutral children. Fucking hell, she is triggered like an IS bomber with Parkinsons. Did this shirt & tie shit-dick just assume her child was gender neutral?

She is livid. Perhaps even more pissed off than when the head of the montessori told her that her child would need to be vaccinated to attend. It’s her choice on what gender her kids are, and it's her choice not to bow down to the evil whims of big pharma and save her children from fucking autism!

She begins drafting a complaint to the Department of Education when she receives a call from her husband. He is down at Claremont Quarter with their other child, a genetic male that Helen has decided needs a good dose of femininity to raised well adjusted. Accordingly, today, the child is leaning towards being a girl.

“Hi hun, I know you said Alex will be using the female toilets from now on, but I really don’t feel comfortable taking him, shit I mean it…I mean fuck they in”

Helen makes it clear that if he ever wants to play hide the slippery sausage again, he get the pronouns right and will march into that female toilet and assist their child. Oh boy, his middle-aged masculine presence is not warmly received and a security guard escorts them out.

Great, now everyone thinks Helen’s husband is some kind of sicko pervert. The kind of cis-man that would put lipstick on and yell angry-nothings at a prostitute that was dressed like his dad. This will not stand. A letter of complaint will not suffice. Helen decides to go nuclear: petition time.

Typically, her petition gains traction amongst Sav Blanc day-drinkers and boatshed cougars who have adopted a new age style of parenting. A sort of, “I’ll do what I fucking want” mentality and if you don’t like it, you can suck on my throbbing petition.  

2 months later security spots Helen taking young Alex into the male toilets. After they exit he asks, “aren’t you that lady that almost got me fired for stopping your husband taking this kid into the female shitters?”

Helen stares right into his working class soul, “my child is identifying with being a male today, got a problem with that buddy?”

You have no idea lady.

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