Today’s young retreat from sex into pronouns and trans nonsense

Today’s young retreat from sex into pronouns and trans nonsense. By Martin Gurri.

Sex is one of the two great drivers of natural selection, along with our environment. We evolve to adapt but also to seduce. …

Behold the peacock in all its glory: As an evolved organism, it doesn’t make sense. The peacock can barely fly, and its extravagant tail feathers signal “Hey, here’s lunch!” to predators for miles around. So why the fancy look? Simple: The girls love it.

Peacocks with the biggest and most dazzling tail feathers mated with lots of adoring peahens and begat lots of offspring, a process that resulted in the utterly useless but amazing-looking birds that we decorate our parks with today.

The “peacock principle” provides the answer to one of the abiding mysteries of nature: Males will evolve into any sort of weirdness to attract females. Since psychology recapitulates phylogeny, I have personally experienced the peacock principle. In my callow youth, I grew my hair to enormous length and strutted around in ridiculously colored garments. My bewildered parents thought I had become gay, but the explanation was the exact opposite of that. Long hair and gaudy clothes were my peacock feathers.

I bring this up because we seem to have entered one of those moments, not infrequent in American history, when the keepers of our culture have decided sex should be taboo.

The word itself is now indecent and unmentionable: We’re supposed to say “gender.” But gender pertains to linguistics, not biology. In Spanish, for example, the moon is feminine in gender: la luna.  … Some moralistic souls think you can somehow detach the sex act from sexuality. But why?

Apparently, many in the zoomer generation find sex scary. I get that. When I was 13 and contemplated the mechanics of the thing, I pretty much became reconciled to a life of despondent celibacy. But at what point was our culture handed over to clueless 13-year-old kids? The zoomers mate later, less and with fewer reproductive consequences than their parents and grandparents. They get triggered by “50 Shades of Grey” and suffer a permanent headache from climate change. I mean, can anyone conjure up a romantic vision of Greta Thunberg? …

If you believe there are 72 sexes, you’re overthinking. You’re also likely to be online 22 hours a day and paddling toward a digitally reinforced narcissism. …

The question of fluidity leads by a tragic necessity to the most perplexing dilemma of modern times: pronouns. For the last 500 years — ever since we dropped “thee” and “thou” — English-language pronouns have maintained a solid steadiness. In the 21st century, like so much else, they have exploded into chaos. There used to be personal pronouns. Now there’s personal personal pronouns. You can be ze or hir. You can be co or cos. You can be a single person and expect to be addressed as they — maybe it feels less lonely, like having an imaginary friend.

History warns us that whole societies have disintegrated over pronouns. Once you’re worried about the splendor of your titles, liberty, equality and fraternity get chucked out the window. …

Dreaming to be something other than what you are pretty much defines the human condition. Thinking you can be anything you want defines our moment in time. Can a person born a human male become a female? Only approximately, but yes. It involves self-mutilation and medication for life. The same is true in the other direction. The process is irreversible, regardless of regrets. Those desperate enough to attempt it deserve our compassion and understanding.

But for the vast majority who merely play at the game of genders, what’s the motivation? A lot of zoomers, I’m guessing, don’t like themselves very much, and feel compelled to turn into the opposite of what they are. It makes them more interesting and alluring, suddenly able to break the ice and start conversations at parties. In my day, you would ask, “Are you an Aquarius?” Today it’s more like, “You’re omnigender, right? No, wait … genderflux!” Sadly, this game has charm only during the addled innocence of youth, and I have terrible news for the zoomers: You won’t be young forever.

Or it may be a simple matter of the herd instinct kicking in. Young people get told by those of us who know better that the only path to virtue is victimhood, and that the best way to be a victim is to belong to the tiniest of oppressed microminorities. Well, you can’t get any tinier than healgender (“changing one’s gender type based on the surrounding people”). Contrary to received opinion, the young are ardent conformists, and never more so than now. Like the wildebeest driven by the urge to be like every other wildebeest, they will leap into the river, even as they watch the crocodiles smiling up at them. …

Can it ever be said, empirically, that there are dozens of sexes — or even genders? Ask the peacock. Once it ceases the avian equivalent of rolling over with laughter, it will tell you: “I didn’t get this gorgeous from gender bending.” You can believe in natural selection and evolution or you can believe that sex is socially constructed. Choose one.

We might also be subtly poisoning ourselves. After all, sperm counts are dropping everywhere, and that’s not just a mental thing. Plastics, electronics, and lead would be the leading candidates.