By Selwyn Duke

It’s always hard coming out. But it’s even harder not being true to yourself. So, inspired by Bruce Jenner and other intrepid souls, I’ve decided to finally start living the life I was meant to:

I identify as Barack Obama.

Oh, I can hear the cynical statements now. “Duke, your I.Q. is 50 points too high.” “Duke, you can speak fluently without a Teleprompter.” “Duke, you know there aren’t 60 states and can pronounce “corpsman.” “Duke, you’re melanin compromised.” All these things are inconsequential details, the stuff of tiresome prigs — sort of like genitalia on a man.

Given my identity, compassion dictates I be allowed to use the bathroom of my choice. My preferred bathroom happens to be in the White House. The same is true of my preferred bedroom, kitchen, living room, Blue Room, Green Room and Map Room; and my preferred chef, servants and security detail. I’ll have my preferred executive orders, too.

Some backward thinkers will insist I use the facilities appropriate to my station; others, thinking themselves reasonable, will offer to paint my place white and erect four majestic columns at its entrance. To them I will say, you’re insensitive, bigoted, narrow-minded, unscientific, ambition-phobic racists who should be killed with fire. As with the children and youths for whom the Obama administration (my administration) has so courageously taken up the cudgels, it is unconscionable to suggest I shouldn’t be allowed to use the facilities consistent with my identity.

Many, though, in the grip of white “male” (whatever that is) linear thinking, will dismiss my righteous claim by flippantly saying I’m not Barack Obama. Well, this is my reality — not yours. As American Thinker’s James Arlandson recently pointed out, philosopher Immanuel Kant informed that “we can't know the ‘thing-in-itself’ without our mind filtering it.” Fellow enlightener Friedrich Nietzsche further clarified that “[e]verything is Interpretation: … Against those who say ‘There are only facts,’ I say, ‘No, facts are precisely what there is not, only interpretations.’ We cannot establish any fact in itself.”  

And my own personal, provisional fact is that I have strong and persistent feelings I’m really Barack Obama. If you say feelings aren’t facts, you’re not paying attention.

“Everything is relative to a reality that isn’t really there.”

Besides, don’t be an unscientific fascist. When a born-male sentient biped informs us he’s really a girl — which is now old hat and needn’t even be questioned — rightful deference is shown to his reality because, as PsychCentral.com puts it, he has exhibited “gender dysphoria,” which is defined by “strong and persistent cross-gender identification.” Oh, I know you’ve heard that intrauterine anomalies might cause the brain of a developing XY-biped to not be fully masculinized. Ze may then end up with a “female brain.” Of course, a recent scientific study purports to have debunked the very notion of male and female brains, but it doesn’t matter.  

There is no brain scan used to confirm the “realness” of a gender dysphoria diagnosis.

There’s no genetic test used.

There’s no hormonal test.

There’s no medical test of any kind.

Rather, the diagnosis is based, again, on strong and persistent cross-gender identification — on strong and persistent feelings — lasting for more than six months, that you’re really, deep down, a member of the social construction fascists call “the opposite sex.”

So don’t waste time telling me a brain scan would reveal that I don’t have the gray matter of a Barack Obama, that my brain is in a considerably more used condition. Don’t tell me that “status dysphoria” is a mental disorder. I have feelings, too. And my feelings say I’m what fascists call “the guy I voted for.”

The point is that, scientifically, there’s every bit as much medical proof a trans-status biped such as me is Barack Obama as there is that a “transgender” person is an opposite-sex member. Ze’s stuck in the wrong body — I’m stuck in the wrong position.

Our trans-status and transgender diagnostic methods would constitute malpractice in any other branch of medicine, you say? You may claim that recommending someone for “sexual-reassignment surgery” based on a gender dysphoria diagnosis is akin to a patient exclaiming to a cardiologist, “Doc, I have strong and persistent feelings I have heart disease! I need a bypass!” and the physician responding, “Have they lasted for more than six months? Yeah? Okay, well, medical tests show no signs of arteriosclerosis. But, what the heck, I’ll cut your chest open.” My response to this line of what fascists call reasoning is, you’re an insensitive, bigoted, narrow-minded, unscientific, ambition-phobic racist who should be killed with fire.

And be warned, we trans-statuses and transgenders will have many allies in our bonfire of the insanities. Psychologists also define something called “species dysphoria,” which is when an individual identifies as a different kind of creature. Examples of people brave enough to live as their true animal selves may be Texas resident Wolfie Blackheart, who insists "I am a canine”; and a Norwegian woman called “Nano” who says she’s a cat. (Question: if Wolfie and Nano met, would they fight like…well, you know? And would they identify it as a catfight?)

Note also, there’s every bit as much scientific evidence of trans-status’ and transgender’s validity as there is of trans-species’ validity.

In our camp also should be those with Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID). These people insist that one or more body parts, such as their legs or eyes, don’t belong on/in their bodies. Not only have some mutilated or blinded themselves on this basis, but there are enlightened physicians who, respecting these patients’ identity, have agreed to perform amputations. And why not? Remove what’s between your legs — remove your legs — whatever makes you happy.

And remember, there’s every bit as much scientific evidence of trans-status’, transgender’s and trans-species’ validity as there is evidence that a BIID biped really should be a no-ped. Feelings über alles.

So I am Barack Obama. At least, that is, until January 20, 2017, at which time I may identify as Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton. And they’re coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-ha. Or are they coming to take you away, bigoted, narrow-minded, unscientific, ambition-phobic racists who should be killed with fire? That all depends on the outcome of these refreshingly fact-free culture wars.

May the strongest feelings win.

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