The Supreme Court—our nation’s highest-ranking collection of legal minds and powdered wigs without the wigs—is back in the business of telling people how to live their lives. This time, it’s gender-affirming care for trans kids. Because, apparently, in the year 2024, adults need to convene in marble halls and deliberate for months over whether kids are allowed to be themselves. What a marvel of modern civilization.
First off, let’s get one thing straight: nobody—and I mean nobody—goes through all the trouble of exploring gender identity for the hell of it. Kids aren’t waking up and saying, Hey, you know what sounds fun? Endless doctor’s visits, awkward conversations with relatives, and people on the internet yelling at me. That’s not a hobby. That’s not Pokémon cards. That’s a serious, deeply personal journey.
And yet, somehow, this conversation has been hijacked by the same crowd who think pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity. They don’t understand it, so it must be wrong. They’re the ones shouting that giving trans kids the care they need is some sort of new-fangled, dystopian experiment. Yeah, Brenda, because denying care worked so well for everything else. Let’s bring back leeches and lobotomies while we’re at it.
Do these people even hear themselves? They’re terrified that a kid might get the medical care to align with their identity, but they’re fine with kids playing tackle football at six years old. Because apparently, it’s no big deal if your brain gets scrambled like an egg, but God forbid someone feels comfortable in their own skin.
Let me paint you a picture: little Johnny comes home from school and says, Mom, I feel like myself today! And some politician pops out of the bushes, screaming, Not on my watch, kid! Because THAT’S the America we’re living in.
You know what’s really rich? The same people who are so passionate about parental rights—parents should decide this, parents should decide that—suddenly think they know better when it comes to trans kids. Pick a lane, folks. Either parents are the ultimate authority or they aren’t. You can’t cherry-pick parental rights like you’re at a buffet of oppression.
And let’s not ignore the irony here. These justices are up there, some of them with robes older than the internet, deciding the future for kids who probably wouldn’t let them use their phone without a tutorial. They don’t know what it’s like to grow up now. Back in their day, the biggest identity crisis was whether to use Brylcreem or a comb-over. Today, kids are navigating a world that’s a non-stop avalanche of TikToks, hashtags, and existential dread.
But no, the Supreme Court is here to save the day. And by save, I mean complicate. Because that’s what they do. They’re like a group project where everyone shows up late with bad ideas, and somehow, they still get to grade the rest of us.
Here’s a thought: maybe instead of debating gender-affirming care, we could actually trust the medical community—the people who spend years learning about this stuff. Crazy idea, I know. But hey, if you’re going to trust your doctor to poke around your insides during surgery, maybe you can trust them on this too.
And for those people out there screaming about protecting kids: if you really care about kids, how about fixing schools? How about addressing mental health? How about doing literally anything other than making life harder for a group of kids who are already dealing with more challenges than most of us can imagine?
This isn’t about protecting kids. It’s about control. It’s about forcing everyone into neat little boxes because that’s what makes certain people comfortable. Well, newsflash: life isn’t a neat little box. It’s a chaotic mess, and if you’re lucky, you get to figure out your place in it without a bunch of strangers judging you.
But no, we can’t have that. Because apparently, the Supreme Court thinks it’s their job to referee the identity Olympics. Meanwhile, the rest of us are sitting here, trying to keep up with rent, healthcare, and the ever-looming threat of climate change. You know, the things that actually matter.
So here’s my plea to the Supreme Court: take a day off. Seriously. Just one day. Stop tinkering with people’s lives like you’re assembling a cheap IKEA dresser. Go outside. Touch some grass. Talk to actual human beings who aren’t wearing suits and arguing in Latin.
And for everyone else, remember this: trans kids aren’t going anywhere. They’re here, they’re real, and they deserve the same dignity and respect as anyone else. If that makes you uncomfortable, maybe you’re the one who needs to change, not them.
End rant. Mic drop. Cue applause.
