Women At Women’s March Struggle to Define What A ‘Woman’ Is

Women at the Women’s March in Washington DC last week were stumped and taken aback when asked to define what a “woman” actually is.
Jan. 30, 2020 – Chris Menahan

Joseph Backholm of the Colson Center for Christian Culture interviewed marchers on the streets of Washington D.C. on January 20. There, the participants carried signs and shouted slogans in favor of abortion, LGBTQ rights, and various “feminist causes.”

When Backholm asked one young marcher to define her sex, she responded on camera: “A woman is anyone who defines as a woman, simple as that.”

[…] “So, I think a woman is someone who chooses to express themselves,” said another.

[…] When an elder female was asked the same question, she said, “In a short interview, I’m not even sure how to answer that.”

[…] “We can express our womanhood in so many ways that it is just unfathomable,” said another woman. Such an expression “can be in the feminine way, but it also can be in a non-binary way as well,” said a different woman.

One member of a pair of apparently college-age women responded to Backholm’s question: “I think a woman is, if you identify as a woman, if you want to be a woman, you are a woman. Backholm asked one of the women wearing a pink cap if there are innate differences between men and women. Pausing in apparent confusion, she answered, “I don’t know how to answer that, actually” and giggled.

Another woman, bearing a pink cap, was asked if anyone can be a woman. She answered, “A physical woman, if they would like to.” Another responded, “Yes, it’s a choice,” while an older woman said, “Yes, yes, because it’s a mindset.”

This is psychological subversion.

From George Orwell’s 1984:

‘Whatever the Party holds to be the truth, is truth, [said O’Brien the interrogator]. It is impossible to see reality except by looking through the eyes of the Party. That is the fact that you have got to relearn, Winston. It needs an act of self-destruction, an effort of the will. You must humble yourself before you can become sane.’

He paused for a few moments, as though to allow what he had been saying to sink in.

‘Do you remember,’ he went on, ‘writing in your diary, “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four”?’

‘Yes,’ said Winston.

O’Brien held up his left hand, its back towards Winston, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended.

‘How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?’


‘And if the party says that it is not four but five — then how many?’


The word ended in a gasp of pain. The needle of the dial had shot up to fifty-five. The sweat had sprung out all over Winston’s body. The air tore into his lungs and issued again in deep groans which even by clenching his teeth he could not stop. O’Brien watched him, the four fingers still extended. He drew back the lever. This time the pain was only slightly eased.

‘How many fingers, Winston?’


The needle went up to sixty.

‘How many fingers, Winston?’

‘Four! Four! What else can I say? Four!’

The needle must have risen again, but he did not look at it. The heavy, stern face and the four fingers filled his vision. The fingers stood up before his eyes like pillars, enormous, blurry, and seeming to vibrate, but unmistakably four.

‘How many fingers, Winston?’

‘Four! Stop it, stop it! How can you go on? Four! Four!’

‘How many fingers, Winston?’

‘Five! Five! Five!’

‘No, Winston, that is no use. You are lying. You still think there are four. How many fingers, please?’

‘Four! five! Four! Anything you like. Only stop it, stop the pain!’

Abruptly he was sitting up with O’Brien’s arm round his shoulders. He had perhaps lost consciousness for a few seconds. The bonds that had held his body down were loosened. He felt very cold, he was shaking uncontrollably, his teeth were chattering, the tears were rolling down his cheeks. For a moment he clung to O’Brien like a baby, curiously comforted by the heavy arm round his shoulders. He had the feeling that O’Brien was his protector, that the pain was something that came from outside, from some other source, and that it was O’Brien who would save him from it.

‘You are a slow learner, Winston,’ said O’Brien gently.

‘How can I help it?’ he blubbered. ‘How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four.’

‘Sometimes, Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane.’

How many genders are there, ladies?

[Gender of a new child is determined at the moment of conception. The moment the egg is fertilized by a sperm the egg becomes a one-cell zygote (fertilized egg) and immediately expresses either the xx (female) or xy (male) gene. “Zygote” is a Greek word meaning “joined” or “yoked.” When the one-cell zygote divides into two cells it then becomes an embryo. After about two months the embryo is called a fetus.

From the moment of conception the zygote is a new life with its gender determined. It is simple genetics – not a matter of choice.

And while the mother’s womb supplies environment and nutrients for the new developing life, that life is a being unto itself and not merely a part of the woman’s body. For a mother to abort that new life in her womb is in principle no different than murdering a newborn baby.]


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