Welcome, beloved sinners, to the Church of Cis Fragility. Please open your apps to the Book of Comments, scroll to the gospel according to “Just Saying,” and prepare for today’s sermon on “Why I’m Not Transphobic, But.”
Every week, millions gather in this sacred digital space. No incense, no hymns, just blue thumbs, angry reacts, and all-caps declarations that “biology doesn’t care about your feelings.” From Facebook feeds to Reddit threads, these self-appointed theologians defend their faith with the zeal of missionaries and the empathy of wet cardboard.
They call it common sense. We call it what it is: emotional panic dressed up as moral conviction.
The Rise Of The Fragile Congregation
Cis fragility isn’t new. It’s been whispering in locker rooms and break rooms for decades, softly assuring its followers that the world is safest when nothing changes. What’s new is the microphone, the megaphone that social media handed to every unfiltered opinion with a Wi-Fi signal and a persecution complex.
Somewhere between “I support trans people but” and “You can’t cancel biology,” the fragile congregation found its liturgy. It thrives on reaction, not reflection. It’s a belief system fueled by the idea that someone else’s existence is an attack on theirs.
They see visibility as aggression. They confuse representation with erasure. And every time a trans person gets a little too visible, too happy, or too human, they gather online, comment by comment, repost by repost, to restore what they believe is balance.
The Gospel Of Discomfort
In the Church of Cis Fragility, discomfort is the highest form of righteousness.
- A trans woman being herself? That’s “forcing beliefs.”
- A trans man existing in peace? “Confusing the children.”
- Gender-neutral restrooms? “Erasing women.”
Discomfort becomes proof of moral superiority. It’s not about harm or safety or facts; it’s about feelings. Specifically, the fragile kind. These are people who can handle a bloody slasher film before breakfast but crumble at the sight of neopronouns.
Their sermons sound like logic but read like fear. And fear, when repeated often enough, hardens into doctrine.
The Cult Of Common Sense
One of the most effective recruitment tools for this church is “common sense.” It’s the catch-all phrase for bigotry that wants to sound respectable.
- “Common sense tells us men can’t be women.”
- “Common sense says there are only two genders.”
Common sense is just tradition in a cheap tuxedo. It’s a get-out-of-critical-thinking card played whenever empathy feels inconvenient. Because let’s be real, if “common sense” were reliable, we’d still think the sun revolved around us and that bloodletting cured migraines.
But in the Church of Cis Fragility, “common sense” is scripture. Anything that challenges it is labeled ideology. The irony? Their ideology is the one built entirely on feelings.
The Martyrdom Of Free Speech
Every religion needs martyrs, and in this one, they’re everywhere. The minute someone faces consequences for transphobia, the fragile faithful cry persecution.
- Lose a job for bullying a coworker? “Silenced.”
- Get banned for violating terms of service? “Canceled.”
- Get fact-checked by a teenager? “Victim of woke tyranny.”
They treat accountability like crucifixion. It’s performative suffering at its finest. Every “I’m just asking questions” thread is a digital Stations of the Cross, complete with followers offering prayers of “support” and GoFundMe donations for “defending truth.”
Meanwhile, real trans people are fighting for housing, healthcare, and the right to exist without being treated like social experiments. The irony could power an entire cathedral.
Gender Panic As Prophecy
Every preacher needs a good apocalypse story, and the cis-fragile have plenty. Their Revelation is a world where gender is fluid, kids are kind, and no one freaks out over pronouns. To them, this is chaos.
They warn that letting people identify freely will destroy civilization. They quote “nature” like it’s their degree, not realizing nature has more gender diversity than their high school gym locker. From clownfish to fungi to humans—fluidity exists everywhere except in their imaginations.
What they call “unnatural” is usually just “new to them.” But prophecy keeps the fear alive, and fear keeps the donations (and engagement metrics) rolling in.
The Sacrament Of Selective Empathy
Cis fragility loves empathy, so long as it stays in the mirror. The moment compassion requires introspection, the holy water dries up.
They’ll cry for bullied kids, but only if those kids fit their moral image. They’ll condemn violence “against anyone,” then look away when that violence wears a trans face. Their empathy is like an open tab that always runs out before we get served.
Selective empathy keeps the congregation comfortable. It lets them perform virtue without risking growth. It’s how people can say “love everyone” and still vote for laws that erase lives.
Digital Disciples And Keyboard Crusades
The internet turned the Church of Cis Fragility into a megachurch. Sermons aren’t delivered from pulpits; they’re livestreamed, hashtagged, and monetized.
Their priests are influencers, politicians, and media personalities who found profit in outrage. They peddle misinformation like communion wafers, blessed by algorithms that reward anger and amplify fear. The result? A constant feedback loop of validation and victimhood.
They’ve built entire ecosystems where ignorance feels like courage and cruelty masquerades as debate. In those spaces, facts don’t matter; feelings do. Especially the fragile kind.
Repentance Is For The Woke
Every belief system needs an enemy, and in this one, it’s “wokeness.”
To them, “woke” means the sin of awareness. It’s empathy made criminal. It’s understanding mistaken for indoctrination. It’s easier to mock progress than to admit you benefited from ignorance.
When called out, they scream “virtue signaling” while holding up their own moral scorecards. They don’t want equality; they want comfort. And comfort, historically, has never been compatible with justice.
Confessions Of The Converted
Not everyone stays in the pews. Some break free.
Former “common sense” believers admit they once clung to those talking points because change scared them. Others confess they never truly hated trans people; they just didn’t want to feel outdated. That’s the unspoken truth behind much of cis fragility: it’s less about hate and more about the terror of losing relevance.
Because once you admit trans people are just people, you have to confront what else you were wrong about. That’s a lot harder than typing “facts don’t care about your feelings.”
When Empathy Becomes Rebellion
Here’s the part they can’t stand: empathy isn’t weakness. It’s rebellion.
To listen, to understand, to care, that’s countercultural in a system built on competition and hierarchy. Fragility tells people they’re being erased; empathy tells them they were never the center.
Every trans person who chooses joy, authenticity, or love is committing quiet defiance against that system. We don’t need to scream to disrupt their sermons. We just have to keep living, learning, and loving out loud.
Closing Prayer For The Perpetually Offended
Let us bow our heads and refresh our feeds.
May those who rage against pronouns find peace in introspection. May those who weaponize biology rediscover science beyond memes. And may those who claim to protect “the children” remember that trans kids are children.
Because in the Church of Cis Fragility, salvation doesn’t come from louder sermons. It comes from shutting up and listening for once.
Amen, blessed be, and for the love of all that’s sacred, log off.
How We Fight Fragility Without Becoming It
So how do we push back without preaching our own kind of rigidity? The answer isn’t screaming louder; it’s refusing to play by their script.
We can stay factual without being humorless. We can be empathetic without apologizing for existing. We can drag hypocrisy while still inviting conversation. That’s what makes TransVitae different: we educate and provoke without losing heart.
Fragility wants us reactive. It wants us defensive. The real rebellion is staying grounded, joyful, and impossible to silence.
The Bottom Line
The next time you see someone performing righteousness in a comment thread, remember this: it’s not about you. It’s about their fear. You’re just the mirror they can’t look into without cracking.
The Church of Cis Fragility thrives on outrage, so starve it. Keep living. Keep laughing. Keep loving yourself so loudly that even their algorithms can’t drown it out.
The congregation may be loud, but the revolution’s louder.
