By Rich Lowry
Monday, April 10, 2023
You shouldn’t be surprised to learn that Dylan
Mulvaney is an actor.
The trans celebrity studied musical theater and had a
part in The Book of Mormon prior to deciding during the
pandemic that he was a woman, and becoming an instant 21st-century — or at
least 2023 — icon.
Praised by vice presidents, bowed down to by daytime TV
hosts, embraced by some of the most recognizable brands in corporate America,
Mulvaney belongs in a time capsule capturing the fatuousness of this period of
American life.
For his supporters, he is something like a combination of
Rosa Parks (groundbreaking, courageous) and Paris Hilton (media savvy, shrewd).
Perhaps the better analogue is Greta Thunberg, a flawed messenger whom all the
advocates on her side decided to make a “thing,” insisting everyone accept her
as such.
Thunberg is supposed to be the desperate, agonized voice
of a rising generation confronting climate change; Mulvaney is supposed to be a
girl.
Never mind that he apparently knows about as much as
you’d expect a 26-year-old man to know about women, a lacuna he fills with insulting
stereotypes and tropes.
In the first entry in his TikTok series cataloging his
transition day by day, Mulvaney spoke of crying, spending too much on dresses,
and telling someone he’s fine even though he isn’t. He didn’t say “math is
hard,” but he might as well have.
His characteristic move is to prance around like a
teenage girl high on amphetamines.
To watch Dylan on The Price Is Right prior
to his transition, capering
just the same as he does now, is mildly amusing, although cringe-inducing,
too.
It’s also not that interesting. A gay man acting — in
both senses of the word — like a parody of a gay man isn’t transgressive, at
least not anymore, and no one was going to deem this over-the-top flamboyance
cutting-edge or important.
Once he’s a man becoming a woman, well, that’s a
different proposition altogether. Now, he’s a pioneer. Now, he’s on a journey.
Now, he’s the underdog who needs the support of all compassionate people. Now,
he’s a symbol. Now, he’s doubted and disdained by all the right enemies.
Drew Barrymore wasn’t going to get on her knees for Dylan Mulvaney, random gay dude;
she would get on her knees for someone who’s teaching us all necessary lessons
about living our own truths.
Nor would Nike, Anheuser-Busch, or Kate Spade be
interested in pre-transition Dylan Mulvaney. (The New York Post and Daily Mail have run pieces about a Human Rights
Campaign index that encourages corporations to support the likes of Mulvaney so
they can get better woke scorecards.)
The notion that Dylan Mulvaney has anything useful to
tell us about “girlhood” is especially perverse. He’s not a minor; he’s an
adult male. If we credit him as a female, he’s not a 16-year-old, but a young
woman.
His association with girlhood goes together, though, with
his affect, dress, and nonexistent figure. They all suggest a sexualized young
teenager fully on board the project of moving beyond the binary — Lolita for
the gender ideologues.
There’s a formidable array of institutional support, from
his corporate backers to his top Hollywood talent agency, behind Dylan
Mulvaney. That doesn’t mean most people, to the extent they become aware of
Mulvaney, are going to accept him as a model of social change or womanhood.
For its purposes, the Left should want to normalize
trans, and here it has settled on a campy icon who is frankly ridiculous at
best, and disturbingly creepy at worst.
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