The Atlantic: Gender-Reveal Parties Kill People. Yes, Kill People

The Atlantic: Gender-Reveal Parties Kill People. Yes, Kill People

A recent article asks, with all seriousness, ‘How Many People Have to Die Before We’re Done with Gender Reveals?’ If I had to guess, I would say somewhere between 38 to 42.
Glenn T. Stanton
By

You think they’re just clean, innocent fun, but they are not. A growing family decides to let the world know the sex of their new unborn child in a fabulously celebratory ceremony called the gender-reveal party.

Invite all the friends and loved ones over to the house. Set up some sort of device that will mysteriously reveal in some exciting fashion the color pink or blue. It’s a huge and growing phenomenon. I typed “gender reveal party suppliers” into Google: 21,500,000 results. But you should be wary.

The good people at The Atlantic (with a snappy new look) have a dire warning: Gender-reveal parties kill. Yes, your first gender reveal could be your last … anything. A recent article asks, with all seriousness, “How Many People Have to Die Before We’re Done with Gender Reveals?” If I had to guess, I would say somewhere between 38 to 42.

Seriously though, The Atlantic ticks off a number of life-threatening parties. One tempts fate when an alligator farm owner puts a watermelon injected with pink or blue dye into an alligator’s jaws, alligator chomps down, melon explodes, child’s sex revealed.

Another is environmentally destructive. An Arizona man ignites a massive explosion that resulted in billowing clouds of brilliant blue. That explosion turned into a massive brush fire, scorching 45,000 acres, requiring the services of 799 firefighters and cost $8.2 million before it was all over. The new father was ordered to pay $100,000 followed by $500 every month for 20 years.

An unfortunate crop duster spraying 350 gallons of pink water crashed in Texas. Thankfully, no one died from the alligator, the fire, or the crash. However, the death warning stems from this tragedy. A couple chose to explode a pipe bomb resulting in pink or blue plumes. A well-wisher was fatally struck in the head by shrapnel. She was standing 45 feet from the device, and the piece of metal continued on for an additional 144 yards.

Yes, the gender-reveal events qualifying their hosts for a Darwin Award are extremely rare. Others are safe but ridiculously over the top, such as this one. However, 99.9 percent are tasteful and happy events for family and friends to celebrate the coming of a new life, and there is everything wonderful about that.

So why the freak-out from The Atlantic that moved them to portray gender-reveal parties as a national emergency, in not just one, but two articles, damning them as a “controversial trend”? A very good question indeed.

First, let’s get this important point out of the way. Gender-reveal parties are not dangerous. They don’t kill people. Stupid kills people. People missing the basic safety gene do not automatically become wise when planning their baby’s gender-reveal. They remain what they are, the same folks who burn down the shed with an errant Roman Candle on Independence Day.

These are the good ol’ boys who take a third-story balcony swan dive and miss the pool at spring break. The folks who booby-trap the porch swing in order to get a YouTube video of Aunt Marge and her plate of BBQ beans hitting the ground. They are people who think it’s a good idea to get married looking like this. They just do what they do whatever the event. The event is not the culprit. Most everyone, save the editors at The Atlantic, get this.

The real reason a microscopically small group of cultured elites get wound up about gender-reveal parties is because of what these parties celebrate. Each time an unborn child’s sex is revealed with a pink or blue cupcake, gender theory gets a tummy ache. The reveal party’s hosts and everyone who enthusiastically participates are revolutionaries.

Each party raises the fist, proclaiming, “You bet we’re sex-binary. What of it?” The gender-revealing revelers are those who refuse to give up on the medical fact that genitalia is a pretty reliable determinant of whether one is actually a male or female. It’s irrefutably evidenced 250 times a second around the world with every new birth. They reject the silly notion that there are more than two sexes (or genders). And their work is fueled by cake, punch, and party games.

The two Atlantic articles are clear that this is their major beef, declaring that “gender reveals have suffered fierce backlash for conflating gender with sex and enforcing rigid cultural norms.” Suffered fierce backlash? Seriously? Sex announcements are some of the happiest pieces of news that people can share with their families and friends. When a baby is born, we ask, “Is it a boy or a girl?” before we even ask if it’s healthy. Does anyone know any balanced person who’s reacted “fiercely” to a gender reveal?

To appreciate just how unhinged these critics can get, I want to share two sentences from an actual academic journal article providing a detailed anatomy of the gender-reveal party. It’s by an actual, adult scholar from the University of Toronto. This author raises this question with all seriousness and concern. You’ll wanna sit down for this one.

Once the pregnant woman eats the cake, the food coloring signifying sex reaches the fetus, through the umbilical cord. Does the future mother somehow ‘share’ her piece of cake and her knowledge with her fetus, thus instilling or reinforcing a gender identity to the unborn?

Yes, these people really are this unhinged.

The Atlantic article raises the same concern that the reveal itself could literally force the unborn child into extreme sex stereotypes before he/she/they is ever born. “Critics point out that the parties leave too little room for intersex or third-gender people, and that they trap babies in a pink-or-blue binary before they’re even born.” That is a whole lot of life-determining power in a cupcake.

And The Atlantic should well know that intersex is not a third gender. The Intersex Society of North America, the largest and most authoritative group helping parents with intersex children, says categorically that intersex is not a third gender. They are so tired of addressing this silly assumption that they impatiently declare, “We are trying to make the world a safe place for intersex kids, and we don’t think labeling them with a gender category that in essence doesn’t exist would help them. (Duh, huh?)”

Yes, that snark is a good indicator with how fed up they are with this “third gender” nonsense. They recommend parents and their doctors direct the intersex child to either the male or female that they are after hormonal, genetic, and radiological tests have been performed. They make it clear that assigning a child’s gender as intersex “would unnecessarily traumatize the child.”

The most visible social ceremony that lies between gender madness and sanity is gender reveal parties and the naturally derived excitement of all involved that drives them. Host one. Attend one. Fund one. The gender theorists will curse you for it. Long live the gender-reveal party!

Glenn T. Stanton is a Federalist senior contributor who writes and speaks about family, gender, and art, is the director of family formation studies at Focus on the Family, and is the author of the brand new "The Myth of the Dying Church" (Worthy, 2019). He blogs at glenntstanton.com.

Copyright © 2020 The Federalist, a wholly independent division of FDRLST Media, All Rights Reserved.