jungle.JPG

Tents line a small green space below Interstate 90 and a short walk to a homeless area known as the Jungle May 17 in Seattle.

(AP Photo/Elaine Thompson)

By Malka Davis

In June 2014, I was admitted to a women's homeless shelter in Northeast Portland. This was my second attempt to lift myself out of homelessness through the assistance of Transition Projects, which runs the shelter.

Like most of the residents, I was there because I had run out of options. None of us was thrilled about living with as many as 60 other women. Our only task was to make the most of it so we could transition into something better.

A few weeks into my stay, I returned to find a number of women in distress. Reportedly, one woman had even fled the shelter in terror.

What was wrong? What was the uproar about? An answer soon followed: The shelter had admitted a man who "self-identified" as a woman. No doubt this was not a first for the shelter; it was, however, a first for those of us who were relative newcomers.

The realization that a man was going to be sharing sleeping and bathroom space with us (in this particular area, there are no private or even semi-private rooms) was understandably met with tremendous anxiety, and, yes, even outrage. After all, not a few of these women were escaping domestic and sexual abuse committed by men, a trauma that doesn't magically disappear once you're away from your abuser. They thought they had found a haven exclusively for women. Little did they know that because of anti-discrimination laws any man who claims to identify as a woman can be admitted.

Over the next few months, most of the women came to tolerate, or even accept to one degree or another, "Clarence's" presence. I became acquainted with him early on, and he often sought me out to talk about his experiences both inside and outside the shelter. In return, I listened and sometimes offered words of consolation. But at no point did I come to regard Clarence as a woman, nor did I refer to him as one. I saw him as an intelligent, sensitive, but very fragile and confused man. That is to say, I afforded him the dignity he deserved as a human being without denying the truth of his gender.

Nonetheless, I believe the shelter was wrong for admitting him. It jeopardized the security of a dozen or so women for the benefit of one man's sense of belonging. Not only that, but for every man who is admitted into a women's shelter under the speciousness of gender ideology, untold numbers of bona fide women are left waiting on the streets. That is not just unfair, it's unjust.

When I see how this debate is being portrayed in the liberal media, though, I have to wonder if these so-called champions of transgender rights have any concept of how this issue impacts people -- especially women -- on the fringes of society. Many of us, like those in homeless shelters, do not have the luxury of choosing how much we're going to be impacted by the liberal zeitgeist's latest cause celebre, or the ability to exercise other options. The issue is thrust upon us when we are at our most vulnerable.

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Malka Davis lives in North Portland.