Years ago I studied martial arts in order to be ready for potential physical attacks. Also, I took out legal insurance while I was homeschooling my children just to be prepared in the event we ever were challenged, that we would have help. Likewise, I lock the doors to my house, regularly check the amount of gas I have in my car, and pay my bills on time. All of these are part of my life routine because I don’t want to be caught off-guard.
In today’s world, there is an onslaught of anti-Christian bias along with flagrant insanity that forces us to be ever more vigilant and providential in how we live our lives. However, unless we think out the implications of lockdowns, wokeness, and medical mandates, we may well be unprepared for what lies ahead.
What follows is an account of a recent occurrence a wife and mother had at a major airport when she was returning home. Her experience (relayed to me during a conversation) resulted in my asking her to write it up. What she experienced is most likely not unique to her, but is an excellent example of being caught off-guard. What follows is her personal account.
This is a summary of my recent experience at an airport and my first-hand interaction with what I will call the Big Bad Wolf Transgender movement.
I was flying home, and was stuck in the TSA line for over 30 minutes; the line never moved, other than the occasional TSA agent asking us to all step to the right or to the left. On one of these occasions, a large group of people went past us right to the TSA screening point, essentially “cutting” the line. Initially, I was sure the TSA agents had a good reason for letting them “cut” but, honestly now, who knows? I was starting to get a bit anxious as I was eager to be on time for my flight, even arriving at my gate before boarding began. That window was quickly closing for me, as it was for the people around me. Despite loud complaints and requests for “why is this taking so long?” there was no adequate nor satisfactory response.
Finally, we were allowed to move forward. I made it to the actual TSA screening point, where all are required to put all possessions in the bucket conveyor belt system and walk through the screening machines. As I am newly pregnant, I didn’t want to go through those machines. I knew that my preference was totally acceptable and that an agent would be provided to do a pat down and give a visual look over and get me through. So I requested that option, to avoid any potential harm to my unborn baby. The male TSA agent was very kind, even laughed and said, “Of course you can do that! This is AMERICA after all!”
He had me step aside and wait, again. This wait was shorter, but felt long as I watched everyone I had been in line with rush through security to make their flights. And, I must admit that it did feel awkward just standing there, waiting for the assistance that I was promised. It made me feel dirty, or as though I was guilty or suspected of something odious. Since the advent of TSA tyranny, it’s the odd person that actually makes eye contact and smiles at others. Instead, it seems like everyone is on this bizarre heightened alert –suspicious and annoyed, especially at TSA screening.
Eventually an older woman approached me, a grandmotherly type with another individual behind her. I was focused on her supposing that she would be the TSA agent to screen me. Behind her was a second “woman” who didn’t seem like a woman at all, despite clothing and a wig that might have suggested otherwise. Never in my wildest imagination did I consider that person would be doing the pat-down.
I was asked if I wanted a private room, which I declined. This already had escalated beyond what I was comfortable with. I have been patted down several times flying, always by a woman, just off to the side, no fuss. This was shaping up to be different. Why did I need a private room? I started to feel how I imagined Little Red Riding Hood felt once she realized the big bad wolf was not her granny.
We stepped aside and they carried my bucket of shoes, purse and phone and set it down nearby. Then, the man dressed as a woman approached me head on, and started going through the mandatory verbal explanations that the agents do on a routine basis. I was in shock. I looked at the grandmotherly TSA agent, quite sure that my face reflected my horror. I said, “Yes, I accept the pat down, but you need to do it so that I don’t miss my flight.”
The grandmotherly agent said “SHE (pointing to the man in female attire) has to verbally explain this to you.” The “SHE” threw me for a loop … was I wrong? Maybe the wig was because this person had cancer and had lost hair? Was I just being judgmental? I thought not.
So I complied and held out my arms. Listening to the man dressed as a woman explain how he was going to touch me, was disturbing, but that was nothing, compared to my disgust when he actually began doing so. He moved behind me so I couldn’t see him. This is the part of the screening where they run their hands along the inside of your waist band. But, he included my underwear in that, but thankfully never went below that. Since he was behind me, I was still asking myself if he was a man. Then he moved to my front. Looking at his hands, I was sure he was a man. They were huge. His jaw was large and square. His arms were beefy and he straight up towered over me. His feet, were in what appeared to me to be men’s’ shoes because of their size. He kept talking, trying to talk like a woman but his voice was so deep. And he was trying to talk like he thought a woman would. But it was a cheap, vile parody of a woman. He kept trying to pat my stomach area and said “Don’t want to wake the baby.” I did reach out and block that move and said, something to the effect of “You are not going to wake the baby; I am very early, and please, my flight is now boarding.”
After the pat down was complete, he then tested his gloved hands for residue and then tested all my stuff in my bucket for residue. I asked if I could put my shoes back on, and was told “no,” not until they were done, “Just in case.” Just in case of WHAT I thought?
Finally they determined that I was not a threat. I put on my shoes, and ran towards my gate. I stopped at the restroom to take a few deep breaths and collect myself.
I was one of the last to board the flight. I looked for the kindest looking older lady I could find and sat next to her. I am not usually one given to tears, even with pregnancy. But I thought I might actually burst into tears. I felt so dirty and ashamed. I should have done something. I should have said no to this man patting me down. But how? I couldn’t exactly prove he was a man. I knew if I had pushed back I would have missed my flight. That was not something I had thought through. In fact, getting patted down by a man dressed as a woman TSA agent is something that NEVER entered my thinking!
This all happened during the Bud Light drama. Literally, Kid Rock was shooting Bud Light cans and other manly men were bulldozing Bud Light cans while I was being felt up by a man. I do appreciate the protests, the shooting beer cans, the boycotting of Bud Light. But after what I experienced, I wonder if it is a sign of a legitimate change, or just vain pontificating. Men were walking by while I was being patted down by a man. I was looking at them, as they walked by. They usually kept their eyes on the ground. I get it, they had flights to make, too. And have any of us thought through and made a contingency plan for missing our flight because we got in a scrap with a Big Bad Transgender Wolf at the airport? But it would have helped, and I would have felt less like a piece of meat in a cat’s claws and more like a woman if just ONE man had stopped and stood there beside me, waiting till I was free to go to my gate.
Shoot beer cans, by all means. But where are these “real men” in the public square? But I hope the shooting beer cans is truly symbolic of a change occurring in culture. A symbol is only powerful though, if the thing it represents is powerful. History will tell if there really is a powerful change occurring.
I guess I’d have to admit that the Big Bad Transgender Wolves are here. As a Christian, I can not hide from it. But I can educate myself and my children about it. I did some research on TSA pat downs. Turns out they are only required to provide you with a TSA agent who PRESENTS as the gender you PRESENT. So what they did was within their guidelines. In fact, more of my research showed that the TSA has had a significant problem with transgender individuals.
The machines that screen people are programed male or female, no “non-binary” option. This has forced some TSA agents to take their best guess to press either the blue or pink button. If the person “fails” the screening and appears to be a woman, but something is flagged in their groin, some agents will just ask the person to step back in the machine and they will then select the “man” button, and then the individual usually passes. So, our machines know the difference; the machine knows male from female … but the humans who have rejected God have muddled the waters and created a nightmare.
There are a lot of articles about transgender individuals pushing back on TSA after they feel like they were violated. A man dressed as a woman required a pat down and, expressly asked for a woman. Since he was clearly a man, dressed as a woman, the female TSA agent refused to pat him down. He reported that this incident had caused him deep emotional pain. WHAT is going on!?
So, while I’d like to think filing a complaint would be helpful, I am not sure it would be. My story is just one in a million of the casualties of the transgender war on God. But we have a choice: remain ignorant casualties, or get educated, get equipped and resist.
For me that means I won’t fly again without a back up plan to rent a car. But what about education? We can fight these battles all day long, but our public schools have turned into Kevorkian genital mutilation factories. What about sports? Do you let you daughter or son compete against a team with transgender athletes? What about Grandma having a transgender CNA in her nursing home? Its time to get beyond, “Ew gross” or “It’s so sad” with the transgender war. It’s not going away. Don’t be caught with the Big Bad Transgender Wolf having his hands on your breasts, or your wife’s or your daughters’.
Need I say more?