To postmodernists, the question “what is a woman?” is just as unanswerable as the question, “what is truth?” Postmodernists, as relativists, do not believe facts matter—just as gender theorists believe biology doesn’t matter. Postmodernists believe anything can be the truth just as gender theorists believe anyone can be a woman.
The Daily Wire has been my favourite news outlet for several years. I’ve consumed thousands of hours of their podcasts. However their latest documentary, What is a Woman, is maybe the most important content they’ve produced so far.
The documentary features The Daily Wire’s author and podcast host Matt Walsh asking “experts” and average people a seemingly simple question: “what is a woman?”
Predictably, however, most of the so-called experts and average people in the documentary either dismiss the question or struggle to come up with an answer.
One of the “experts” in the documentary is a female therapist who identifies as “non-binary”; when Walsh asks her the titular question, she says: “I’m not a woman, so I can’t really answer that.” 
She also says, “some women have penises, some men have vaginas.” That immediately reminded me of the scene from Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 1990 movie Kindergarten Cop, when a toddler says: “boys have a penis, girls have a vagina”.
What is a Woman confirms gender theorists are not smarter than toddlers. Naturally, as we should expect from a Matt Walsh documentary, that produces a series of hilarious scenes. For instance, there’s a scene with a tell-it-like-it-is elderly shop owner who provides hilariously simple answers that emphasize the absurd “answers” from the group of “experts”.
However, the documentary is both hilarious and haunting. Matt Walsh’s infamous ability to maintain an impeccable level of satire and seriousness is what makes What is a Woman so compelling. The documentary seamlessly weaves through comedy and tragedy in a manner worthy of its subject matter.
What is a Woman is just as depressing as it is hilarious. Gender theory and transgender ideology deserve ridicule. However, these ideas also deserve our serious attention. As many of the scenes in the documentary reveal, transgender ideology harms people—especially little children.
The most poignant scene in the entire documentary is when Scott (Kellie) Newgent, the transgender founder of TReVoices raises her arm to reveal her severe scars and says:
“For the time in history, a marginalized group has a huge dollar sign on the top of their head. We have 5 children’s hospitals in the United States promoting that [her scars]…that’s a phalloplasty, that’s a bottom surgery [a surgical operation where part of a woman’s abdomen, leg, or arm is removed to create a ‘penis’]. We have 5 children’s hospitals in the United States telling girls that they can be boys at $70,000 a pop in a surgery that has a 67% complication rate that will kill me from infection…that I can’t sue on. We’re butchering a generation of children because no one is willing to talk about anything. I have three kids at the age they’re doing this to kids. I’m not transphobic. I love my kids. And I love other people’s kids, and you should too…This is wrong on so many levels…I get infections every 3 to 4 months…I’m probably not going to live very long.”
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Shrier’s book is giving parents permission to rethink the therapeutic paradigms that have dominated child-rearing literature for a long time now. She gives parents permission to see their children as moral agents who need their character formed by loving parents rather than as merely victims of an array of alleged pathologies that require third-party interventions from the medical authorities.

I finished Abigail Shrier’s book Bad Therapy: Why the Kids Aren’t Growing Up about two or three weeks ago. I’ve had a lot of time to ruminate on it, and I think it will be one of the most important books of the year. It really is a bit of a barn-burner. Her reporting gathers evidence against some of the sacrosanct totems of our age:
1. Trauma-informed therapy2. Gentle parenting3. Hyper-medicalization of children4. Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score5. Empathy run amok
Shrier begins the book with a giant disclaimer that she’s not writing this book about kids with actual serious, debilitating trauma. She’s not writing as if real trauma doesn’t exist in the world or as if therapeutic interventions can never be helpful for people. She’s writing about an overweening therapeutic mindset that pathologizes the ordinary challenges of a child’s life. Parents who rashly thrust their child into therapy or under the influence of psychotropic drugs may be doing more harm than good. She argues that our presumption should be for our children’s resilience, not for our children’s inability to cope without medical interventions.
My sense is that Shrier has tapped into something that many parents are already beginning sense for themselves. They are starting to recognize that “gentle parenting” and a lack of skepticism about psychiatric interventions have led to a situation in which ordinary problems have been pathologized and medicalized—problems that in previous generations were dealt with through loving discipline.
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We followers of Christ are not exempt from sorrow, grief, sadness, and heaviness. Jesus himself wept. He wept over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41) and wept at the death of his beloved friend Lazarus (John 11:35). He was distraught at the loneliness he would endure on the cross. The thought of the suffering he would bear brought him into such a state of distress that he sweated great drops of blood (Luke 22:44). Our great Savior knows what it means to be lonely. He knows the grief and sorrow we bear. He knows of the rain that never stops. He knows that Christians get depressed too. He knows what it is to be royal and yet suffer. 

When we wake up it is dark. When we come home it is still dark. This time of year can be a season of tremendous sadness. Some sadness emerges due to things like clinical and seasonal depression. Another sadness comes from the circumstances of the season. 

Seemingly every advertisement shows smiling faces, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel like smiling without his wife of 50 years beside him anymore. 
The family came to visit for the holidays just a few days ago, but it might as well be decades by the tears on her face. It was just a few years ago the kids were playing tag in the basement. Now one is a drug addict, and the other committed suicide Christmas Eve two years before. 
She’s thrilled to be in the embrace of her new boyfriend who asked her out over the Christmas break. The old boyfriend struggles to find words or motivation for anything and ends up quitting college after failing 3 out of 4 classes in the spring.  
The alarm clock disturbs a brief moment of restful sleep to remind the parent that all is quiet in the house, their little 5-year-old daughter won’t wake them up in bed anymore because she’s in hospice care with only a few days left to live. 

While many this time of year are in “shop until you drop” mode, some are in “weep until you sleep” mode. Despite all the efforts of commercialism to drive an anxious populace to buy happiness and exchange material gifts, whatever fleeting experience of excitement and enjoyment soon fades. Willy Wonka’s 4th quarter push to stimulate gains can’t compare to the crushing realities, tragedies, and struggles of the broken world we dwell in. The temporary timestamps of worldly pleasures fade away as the grim darkness and coldness of winter come with a truckload of haunting guilt, regretful words, and overwhelming circumstances. 
Why are some sad during this time of year? Because the grass withers and the flowers fall (Isaiah 40:8). Because nothing under the sun can provide lasting satisfaction, everything is wearisome (Ecclesiastes 1:8-11). 
The heaviness of this time of year is a burden for many. The cacophony of voices shouting words like “sale” “special” “discount” and “celebrate” echo as dark empty hallways in the hearts of those grieving, wounded, weak, and weeping. All the memories of loved ones and bygone days seem to pile up and throw themselves across the checkout counter of life during this season. I’ve seen it in the poor, and I’ve seen it in the rich. It’s a look that betrays the inward thoughts. There is nothing in this world that can bring lasting gladness. This world is gray. No, this world is worse than gray. It is overcast with a storm of tears and seemingly no wind to push the storm away from us. All is calm, but all is not bright. 
This time of year awakens in many of us the realities of death. Of relationships gone, of friends and loved ones beyond our present reach. Of opportunities lost, doors closed, and windows locked shut. For many, they wear a smile only because it is a socially agreed-upon thing to do. We smile outwardly because it is expected, while inwardly we rage, we curse, we fear, we long. 
In the long night of winter, we do not feel like merry-making. We sit in proverbial ashes and dust, waiting for the next time of fitful sleep to overwhelm our exhausted hearts. For many this time is the loneliest time of year. This is the time when death most tightly grips us with its ice-cold bruising grip. 
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