Unpopular Opinions Pt. 2

Why I Can’t Stay Silent

Last week, I sat in a café with my notebook and poured out seven pages, front and back, of thoughts for this post. Once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. Yet when I tried to compose this on here, I felt blocked. That’s because I never intended for Opulence Vision to focus on these particular issues — but over the last five years, they’ve been at the root of many confrontations I’ve had online, and I realized I need to address them openly. Not to fight. Not to condemn. But to make it clear where I stand, so that Opulence Vision can reach the people it’s meant to resonate with. For me, these aren’t political stances — they’re spiritual and cultural concerns about what we’re losing: reverence for life, protection of our children, and the clarity of identity.

I will not make you endure all seven pages, so I will try to distill it as much as possible.

Finding the Reverence for New Life

The other day, I wrote about the topic of abortion through the lens of Charlie Kirk’s debate, and as I reread what I published, I realized I may have been too harsh on the young woman who pressed him with that painful hypothetical. In the moment, I judged her as an unhinged girl with a chip on her shoulder, without pausing to consider that her intensity might have come from a deeply personal place — perhaps something she, or someone close to her, had actually lived through. For that judgment, I want to sincerely apologize to her and anyone else my judgement impacted.

As I mentioned in the other post, I do not judge anyone who has had to make that difficult choice. I can’t imagine the weight of that decision, and I know many women make it because, in their hearts, they believe it is what’s best — both for themselves and for the potential child, especially if they don’t feel prepared.

The true intention of having these conversations is not to condemn, but to explore how we might approach the younger generations with wisdom and compassion, so that they may make choices that sets them up for success in the future. Perhaps part of the answer is bringing sacredness back into sexuality, so that fewer women find themselves having to make such painful choices in the first place. Again, I will discuss this further later, and I am also adding this in another book I'm writing that focuses on Tantra for modern times.

I also want to clarify my own belief: I don’t share Charlie’s claim that abortion is murder, nor do I believe that it should be made illegal. But I do believe there is a consequence that is purchased when a girl chooses to abort. In my own spiritual understanding, what I believe is true: the spirit doesn’t enter the body until the baby's first breath. However, I resist the language that reduces a fetus to “just a clump of cells,” or worse, a “parasite" because even though I don't believe the soul entered the body yet, it is still human life. That kind of language of calling a baby a "lump of cells" or a "parasite" dehumanizes the profound potential of the life we as women have the ability to carry.

To further my spiritual understanding, conceiving a child with someone summons a soul, a spirit, an energetic code that is now recycled back into this world. I believe in reincarnation, and when a couple (male and female, man and womb-man) first conceives a baby, that automatically pulls out an old soul. Sometimes they are assigned to certain people, and sometimes the soul chooses the parents. When that opportunity is ended through abortion, I believe those souls are pushed towards another path, another place to enter the world - but not the one it was meant to go to.

Children are such a great gift, to both the parents and to the planet, when they are seen and raised as such. To raise a child is to nurture a piece of yourself and in the best case scenario, a piece of the person you love, and that child continues on in this world after you, shaping the future in ways we can’t always see. Yet in much of Western culture today, the value of this sacred gift feels diminished. Motherhood is often portrayed as a burden, or even a prison sentence, especially for modern women.

Of course, motherhood isn’t the only way to create and nurture life. We give birth in many ways—through our businesses, our projects, our art, our writing, and even in the way we love and care for our animals and the children around us. That has been my own reality. But I do believe there is immense importance in bringing back a sense of excitement and reverence for becoming mothers and raising the future. I discussed this topic in the earlier post, Tantra Throwback.

At a time when millions of potential lives are ended through abortion, many of which might have been born into circumstances of privilege and possibility, it saddens me that so many children are instead being born in environments where their chances for safety and opportunity are slim. To me, this raises an important question: how can we, especially in the West, reawaken our joy in the possibility of raising the next generation—and see it not as a burden, but as one of the greatest contributions we can make to the world?

What if the children we raise with the advantages of the West could grow up not just for themselves, but to help find solutions for the world? What if their privilege could be a bridge, empowering them to support and uplift children who weren’t born with the same opportunities? Because generations will come after us and inherit the world we leave behind, so I can’t help but wonder: if we truly believe our values matter—if we believe they contribute to the sustainability of the planet—wouldn’t one of the most meaningful things we could do is raise children who carry those same values forward?

Bodily Autonomy

The first time I received real backlash from my own communities and family was over my stance on the COVID vaccine. The last five years have been one life-changing event after another, and it feels like people are expected to pretend none of it happened. During the first lockdown I took everything very seriously—I masked, kept my distance, and even sanitized groceries (remember that!). But when the vaccines were rolled out and mandates began, I hesitated. This was new technology that was developed very quickly, and I had questions and anxieties about long-term effects, especially since I still want to have some sort of shot at being a mother. On top of that, the propaganda around the vaccine was so obtuse, that red flags started to go up everywhere.

I did everything I could to keep my family safe, but I received intense backlash from people I knew simply for questioning the narrative. That’s when I began to see a side of people I hadn’t experienced before. Even after understanding my stance, some close friends and family shared memes mocking those who were hesitant, calling us selfish, and suggesting we shouldn’t be allowed into hospitals—or worse. For the first time, I truly felt unsafe in both my community and within my own family. It truly felt like all those that were pushing for the vaccine and wanting to get back to the regular scheduled program were Agents in the Matrix.

People wonder why I’m not over it, but nothing prepares you for the weight of feeling unsafe in your own community. That sense of unease lingers, shaping how you show up, who you trust, and even how you define your own voice. It’s experiences like this that have made me realize how important it is to create spaces where honesty, clarity, and personal truth are honoured, so people can truly reconnect with themselves and each other. And that's why I'm putting it all on the table here... to find those that resonate.

My fear wasn’t just for myself—it was for the children who had no say in the matter, children who were required to receive it by their parents, children I cared for, and really, every child in general. I’ve faced criticism for speaking up about the well-being of other people’s children, but I can’t help it—I care deeply about all children, and about the future of this planet. I don't know if anyone really and truly understands that about me, but I do feel a deep ache for all children that are suffering and are not protected.

Protecting the Children

Another time I faced backlash from my community was last summer, when I commented online about the so-called “Last Supper Drag Olympics.” To me, the opening performance felt unsettling and disorienting, almost truly demonic—from the depiction of Marie Antoinette being beheaded (especially so soon after a cultural focus on beheaded babies), to the silver horse and horseman, and then climaxing into the infamous Last Supper Drag show that involved a young child in the mix (who, by the way, was positioned beside the man wearing only small, tight, black underwear, and who had a wardrobe malfunction! Beside the child!). One pre-recorded segment even suggested a sexualized scenario amoung the performers (the suggestion being a threesome amoung those that snuck away).

In my view, this was not a wholesome, family-friendly performance—it felt designed to shock and provoke, and I found it deeply concerning how it could influence children and divide audiences. I also found it concerning that the people online were defending the performance rather than seeing what I was seeing.

Someone in my community posted a meme mocking Christians and Catholics as being “too sensitive" as they reacted to the performance - I wrote about this in an earlier post called The Last Supper. I knew I would've been better off staying out of it, but I couldn’t help myself, even knowing I might lose support or popularity amoung the people I knew. When I commented that I felt uncomfortable with a child being involved in the drag show of this nature, I was immediately labeled a “bigot,” a “transphobe,” and a “Karen clutching her pearls.”

I want to be clear: I have nothing against drag shows for adults. My concern is specifically with normalizing grown men cosplaying as women in spaces intended for children. How is this supposed to form a healthy respresentation of what a woman is to impressionable minds?

I fully support drag shows for adults—they’ve always been part of the burlesque and entertainment world, and that space has always been for grown-ups. What feels uncomfortable to me is seeing that same style being pushed into spaces for young children. I can’t help but think back to shows like Barney—a big purple dinosaur singing, “I love you, you love me”—and feel a longing for that type of innocence. Now, it seems there’s a push to have drag performances for kids, with men dressed as women, which can make it harder for children to understand and relate to concepts of gender and identity in a healthy way.

Drag is an art form, and I appreciate it as such—but it is created for adult audiences, not children. It’s one thing to teach kids to accept and respect others; it’s another to introduce them to performances and costumes that are clearly intended for mature viewers.

I once watched a video of a drag performance aimed at babies and small children that went beyond playful costume and dance, featuring provocative movements and outfits resembling BDSM attire. Seeing this, it was hard for me to understand the necessity of introducing such adult themes in spaces meant for young children. I couldn't find the exact clip I saw years ago, but here is a news report covering the show:

Now, I’m sure not all drag performances aimed at children are hyper-sexualized or graphic. But I came across a Canadian-produced show online called The Fabulous Show with Fay and Fluffy. Honestly, I feel hesitant even writing about it, because I don’t want to speak negatively about the individuals—they may be kind people who truly want to spread joy and love. Still, watching the performance didn’t sit right with me. In one particular clip, they appeared in pajamas that resembled lingerie as they announce they were having a “slumber party" with the kids in the audience. They then asked the kids what they wear at night and how they comfort themselves in the dark. When one child mentioned having a stuffed animal, the follow-up question by the Fluffy character, “Is it a stuffed bear or a real bear?”, stood out as oddly inappropriate in this context. Then the other character, Fay, proceeds to tell the kids he is sad because he left his stuff bear at home, and now has nothing to cuddle in the dark.

In case you don't know what a "bear" refers to in LGBTQ+ culture, particularly within the gay male community, a “bear” is a term for a larger, often hairier man who embraces a rugged or masculine presentation. Bears can be of any age, but they’re usually associated with body positivity, facial hair, and a kind of warm, approachable masculinity. Don't get me wrong - I will party and be friends with those that consider themselves as "bears", I know a lot of them are jovial, funny and kind - but I don't feel comfortable with one asking a child if he sleeps with a fake bear or a real bear in a television show for kids. Maybe this is the momma-bear inside of me, but none of it feels right.

This definitely raises important questions about where we draw the line between entertainment and age-appropriate content. Because the inuendo is there, it's not even hiding, and yet, this is getting thousands of views. I also found out that this drag duo performs live at events for children around Toronto. As much as they have a following, they also have protestors - which in an interview, one of the performers labelled the protestors as "Nazis".

Another concern I have is what this means for women themselves. When children see men dressed up as exaggerated caricatures of women, could that distort how they come to view real women? What message does it send about femininity and womanhood if children are introduced to it through parody rather than through genuine feminine essence?

The examples I have presented here are adult fetishes, and children have no business being in adult fetishes. With everyone calling for the Epstein files, and wondering why Diddy's release is being considered, why are we normalizing this type of entertainment for kids? With thousands of kids being reported as abducted each day, why are we not more conscious of how we are raising and protecting them from potential harm?

Returning to the comment section about the Olympics drag performance, one woman who was berating me the whole time, finally asked, ‘Don’t trans kids deserve representation?’  Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about this question. I like to think of myself as someone who supports all children in the full expression of who they are. At the same time, I’ve been wrestling with the idea of encouraging or perpetuating trans identity in children, and I can’t help but question how healthy and sustainable that is in the long run.

On top of that, I wonder why the focus is on trans kids being represented in the Olympics at all, especially when the participation of trans women in women’s sports is already such a controversial and unresolved issue.

In any case, I felt like these were all valid questions and concerns, but it was impossible to have any type of conversation in this comment section without quickly being judged as a bigot, so I left the conversation. Also, during the entire duration of the exhange, no one wanted to acknowledge how weird it was to have a child in that performance - why did everyone think it was just okay? Why was I the only one that felt truly disturbed by it?

I’m not against any group of people for who they are — my concern is for women and children, and for the possibility that some men may see cultural trends and use them as cover to satisfy unhealthy or harmful desires. My stance comes from a place of protection, not prejudice.

While many of the people in that comment section (mostly women) were defending the idea of men dressing as women to perform for children, I found myself standing up for the young people — and for women — who may be negatively impacted by this normalization. I understand the value of drag as art or expression, but I struggle to see the need for it in spaces designed for kids.

We as adults have a responsibility to protect children, and that means speaking up when certain behaviours may lead to harm. For me, part of that that includes questioning the normalization of children seeing grown men dressed as exaggerated caricatures of women. Some might say I’m clutching my pearls — and you know what? Maybe I am. But I’ve earned every pearl necklace I’ve ever worn in my life through lived experience, through awakening the tantric woman within me, and through a deep and rare understanding of both healthy and unhealthy expressions of male sexuality. My concern isn’t about drag as an art form for adults, but about what happens when these performances and images are introduced to children. When we normalize them in spaces meant for kids, we risk confusing their sense of identity and put them in potential danger.

Clarity of Identity

Normalizing entertainment that blurs the lines between sexuality, identity, and age-appropriate content can influence how children make sense of themselves and the world. We’re now seeing more Gen Z kids identifying as transgender than any generation before them, and while some of that may be due to greater openness and acceptance, it also raises questions about how much of it is cultural influence versus genuine identity.

I’ve noticed that a surprising number of celebrities now have children identifying as trans, and in some cases, multiple children within the same family. This makes me wonder about the role of celebrity culture in shaping trends amoung young people. When a figure with massive influence normalizes a certain identity, it’s not far-fetched to imagine that more kids might see that as a path open to them — even if it doesn’t truly come from within. While visibility can help marginalized youth feel seen, we also need to ask hard questions: is this always authentic self-expression, or are cultural and social influences — including influencial role models — pushing children in a direction they might not be natural or sustainable?

From my own lived experience and from observing others, I believe one of the healthiest things we can do is to cultivate a deeper connection with the body we are given. When people truly connect with their bodies, they often develop a stronger sense of identity and move through the world with confidence. For those who feel they were born in the wrong body, no amount of outside intervention can completely resolve that sense of disconnect — it may offer temporary relief, but the deeper struggle often remains. While I accept that this experience is very real for a small number of people, I don’t believe it’s something we should normalize as the default for children.

This is when you have to ask yourself, is this really what is best for your child, or are you falling for a trend that may potentially damage the integrity of your child's mind, body and spirit forever?

From my own personal experience and from observing others, I wholeheartedly believe that we can only come to truly know ourselves when we are deeply connected with our source of creativity—our reproductive system. It’s one thing to alter how we look through piercings, tattoos, or even cosmetic surgery, but altering the reproductive system changes something fundamental about the essence of who we are.

Children and teens shouldn’t be pressured to define themselves by sexuality or gender at such an early stage. Instead, they should be given space to learn how their bodies really work, and to understand how powerful and sacred that creative energy can be. Their focus should be on sharpening their skills, exploring their interests, and preparing for the future—so that when they eventually choose to have sexual experiences, they are mentally, emotionally, and spiritually ready. When children are rushed and forced into sexual experiences before they are prepared, it can leave lasting wounds later in life. I know this firsthand.

Instead of asking children what pronouns they prefer, we should be asking them how they would like to help the world one day. That kind of question sparks vision, purpose, and imagination—helping them grow into confident individuals who know their value beyond labels and sexual orientation.

I understand that there may be a very small percentage of kids who are born differently, or who genuinely struggle with body dysmorphia. But instead of encouraging more children to become androgynous or gender-fluid, we should focus on teaching them to be accepting and compassionate, so everyone feels accepted and no one feels outcasted. In my view, gender-affirming care and medical transition should only be considered after puberty, when the body is fully developed, and even then it should not be taken lightly.

Relying on hormones to ‘affirm’ an identity creates a form of substance dependency. It raises an important question: if those substances weren’t available—whether due to crisis, scarcity, or simply life circumstances—would that person still feel whole and resilient? We should be raising children who are strong in themselves, capable of navigating this world (whether in our modern society or in more difficult conditions), and who understand that their mission in life is bigger than their identity. Otherwise, they risk growing into adults who feel they were dealt the wrong hand from the start.

I once watched a video about a boy who believed and insisted he was a girl. The parents hadn’t pushed anything on him — he simply felt that way. If that were my child, I would first be curious: where is this coming from? In my spiritual view, some children who feel different may be tapping into something deeper — perhaps memories of a past life or a soul experience that’s hard to explain. If that were the case, I’d see it as a gift and an opportunity to listen closely.

At the same time, I believe there is enormous power in accepting the body you were given. Every life and every body has unique strengths and lessons. The faster a child embraces their natural body, the faster they can master it, learn its capabilities, and use it to grow into their full potential. It’s similar for all of us — when we stop seeing ourselves as victims of the hand we were dealt and instead lean into what we have, we can unlock skills, resilience, and creativity that might otherwise remain dormant. I’d encourage exploration within safe boundaries — letting them play, try new things, and express themselves — but always anchored in the truth of their own body and its possibilities.

It saddens me when progressive parents think they’re doing their kids a favour by raising them gender-neutral. You don’t have to put your daughter in a tutu or hand a football to your son if you don’t want to, but I believe it’s important to teach children to be proud of the body they were given. Confidence grows from acceptance, not confusion. Life already asks us to make countless choices — why make gender one of them when, for most people, it’s already given?

These are the conversations Charlie Kirk attempted to have, yet he was labeled a transphobe, homophobe, fascist—every dehumanizing buzzword used to silence dissent. If that’s how he’s being characterized, is that how I’m being seen also? For wanting to protect children’s innocence by encouraging them to embrace the bodies they were given?

The so-called “woke” movement has redefined a word that once meant awakened to societal injustice, turning it into a tool to shut down debate and police thought. They claim inclusion, but their tactics often alienate everyday people, targeting anyone who questions their narratives.

After years of engaging with people I once considered allies, I am stepping away from this ideology and community. And with that, here is the question the movement too often avoids:

What is a Woman?

Such a simple question, and yet, it has been the question of the decade that most people on the left side of politics refuse to define. When we can't define what a woman is, we as women, lose a sense of our own identity and what it means to us. Womanhood has now been watered down to anyone who just feels like being a woman.

Honestly, all of it is very exhausting, so I would like to offer my own definition of what a woman is:

A woman is an adult female—a girl who was born female and grew into adulthood - simple. It’s not THAT complicated, but it IS that DEEP.

There is a set of shared experiences that all women go through. We were born as daughters, treated as girls by our family and friends. Many of us were sisters, and through finding our girlfriends, we learned the meaning of sisterhood. Some of us dreamed of being mothers, some dreamed of being wives, some were the nurturing ones in the family - all of us carried a womb inside of us from the day we were born, created in our own mother's womb.

All of us grew up as girls, navigating the awkward stages of puberty: getting our periods and enduring the cycle of hormones month after month. We watched our bodies change—our breasts grew, our hips took shape—and with those changes came the male gaze. Many of us were sexualized and often not taken seriously. We felt constant pressure to be pretty, to be perfect, simply for being girls.

As women, we have bled and shed our eggs every month—these eggs are the seeds of our most innate creation. When you truly tap into your womanhood, you connect to that innate bond with Mother Earth, and a natural mothering energy arises - most women have a natural tendency to protect children and the world, it's encoded in our DNA.

As I connected more and more to my womanly body, with every orgasm that I've had the pleasure of having, I know my womanhood lies deep within my womb and the female canal that grant entry to my most intimate parts.

To be a woman is an incredible gift - we have the ability to create life inside of our bodies. As I've matured in my years, and stepped away from mainstream culture and tapped into my soul, as a woman, I am sad at how culture has downplayed our life-giving ability to create more humans.

And that is why protecting womanhood matters. Not just for us, but for the generations to come. To honour the gift of life, to preserve the sacred space of growing up female, and to raise children in a world that respects their innocence—this is where the real power lies.

Womanhood is not a costume, a trend, or a debate—it is life itself, and it demands reverence.

We don’t need a prefix to define us—especially one that sounds like “cyst.” Millions of women around the world suffer from ovarian cysts, a condition that is often misunderstood or dismissed because the medical field has historically treated women’s health as an afterthought. Instead of honouring the complexity of our bodies, society has minimized it.

I want to be very clear—I support trans women and trans men wholeheartedly. They deserve dignity, respect, and the right to live safely, just like everyone else. Many have endured the pain of not feeling at home in their own bodies, and it takes immense courage to make the leap toward living as who they truly feel they are. I have no ill will toward the trans community, nor do I feel “above” them for me choosing to boldly reclaim the word woman. For me, a woman is someone born female and grown into womanhood. That doesn’t take away from the dignity or truth of being a trans woman—it simply honours that there are different sets of valid experiences, and both deserve respect.

We should all be actively creating safe environments for the trans community, and at the same time, it’s important that the safety and comfort of women in women-only spaces and women’s sports are also respected. No one is saying that trans people should not exist — rather, the question is about fairness and boundaries. For example, I don’t take issue with shared bathrooms, but when it comes to locker rooms and competitive sports, I’ve personally witnessed the tension that can arise when women feel their privacy or sense of fairness is compromised. These are complex issues, and I believe they deserve open, honest conversations that honour both sides.

Anyone should be free to live as a trans woman if that’s who they truly are. But when it comes to women’s sports, why is it considered appropriate to compete against biological women? Why is no one asking what is a man? Why is it only our identity that is being encroached upon?

We all know there are men who will go to disturbing lengths to exploit women. So why are we building a system where any man can throw on a wig and a dress, walk into a women’s change room, and women aren’t even allowed to question it? Because I've seen it happen in real life.

I’ve spoken up about this before, and I’ve had many women tell me they resonated — but there’s always a louder group ready to shut us down, while calling us all the buzzword names. No one wants to be called a nazi, a bigot or a transphobe, and so women just stay silent even if they don't feel comfortable with the changes being made. And here’s the irony: many of the defenders of this movement are women. The people that prioritize performing loyalty to certain ideologies over standing up for women’s rights.

To be clear, my concerns are not about trans people living their lives with dignity and respect — I fully support that. My concern is about how certain policies affect women’s safety and fairness.

This isn’t about excluding anyone out of malice — it’s about protecting the spaces women have fought hard to secure, and making sure fairness and safety aren’t sacrificed in the name of ideology.

When I’ve shared my views respectfully, I was met not with dialogue, but with some of the most unhinged and insulting responses imaginable. That’s the problem.

Take Charlie Kirk’s death as an example. I watched people on the Left celebrate as if the man were Osama Bin Laden — literally calling him more dangerous than someone associated with the Taliban (someone online actually gave me this comparison). After a week of digging, watching Charlie's debates for hours, I couldn’t find the monster they claimed he was. What I found was someone asking hard questions about where our culture is heading — the same kind of questions I’m asking in this post.

And here’s where it gets darker: in the comment sections celebrating his death, I saw people openly calling for the assassination of others like Matt Walsh, Elon Musk, and JK Rowling — all for questioning the transitioning of minors, while defending women’s safety and fairness. This is where we are now: violence and dehumanization against anyone who dares to question the ideology.

So what are we to do? Just accept these cultural shifts without question, simply because a loud group tells us we’re not allowed to speak? Do we stay silent in fear — knowing that many have even cheered for assassination over these very debates?

Because I will not.

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At the end of the day, this isn’t about politics, labels, or buzzwords. It’s about protecting children, preserving truth, and having the courage to say what many are too afraid to say out loud.

I will always respect people’s choices, but I will not bend to an ideology that confuses kids, erases women, and silences anyone who dares to question it.

The future belongs to those who can stand firm in reality, rooted in truth, and unapologetically human. That’s the world I want to build — and I will not stay silent.