Audrey Hale's Imaginary Penis
inside the notebook of an autoandrophilic school shooter
The “manifesto” of school shooter Audrey Hale was finally released today. In truth it is not a manifesto. Rather, it’s a notebook she1 wrote in occasionally when going through emotional distress. Every page oozes angst.
Hale had mixed feelings about her mom, but hated her dad. She repeatedly expressed love for a girl named Paige who seemingly died. She also missed a male friend named Sydney (who also seemingly died). Hale repeatedly wrote of feeling like a failure and hating society. She lived with her parents and didn’t have a stable job. She yearned for the void—for death. Through death, she would escape her female form and be reunited with her dead friends as a boy in heaven.
Audrey had a lot of things going on mentally besides her gender issues. However, this post focuses on her gender issues (you’re here for gender, right?). Although Hale constantly expressed love for a girl, I don’t think she was of homosexual etiology. And since she was 28 and had few friends, rapid-onset gender dysphoria (ROGD) is not a good fit either. Rather, I suspect that Hale’s gender issues originated in autoandrophilia. I thought this after the first few leaks of her notebook came out, and after looking through the whole thing it seems even more obvious.
In this post, I’m going to present images from the notebook PDF that has been released. Following each image, I’ve transcribed relevant parts for easier reading (typically with spelling and typos corrected). Page numbers mentioned in the image captions refer to the page # within the PDF document.
Let’s start with the section most indicative of autoandrophilia: a three-page entry titled “My Imaginary Penis”.
Page 1 of “My Imaginary Penis”:
My penis exists in my head. I swear to god I’m a male. I think about sexual fantasies, about how if my dick was real I’d fuck the girl I love in the ass. I want to know what that’s like, but I never will because I was damned to be born this way. I swear to fuck I hate it so goddamned much. It’s a fucking curse.
Having a brain like mine has its godliness but also prone to making poor ass decisions. Like putting my Aiden name while filling out paperwork for instacart, and now my background check didn’t clear and I’m possibly not going to get the job. Fuck me, man. Mom just says I’m young and young people make mistakes. But with me, it’s painfully more than that. The torture of being raised a girl, and actually believed I just had to deal with it, and tried to be feminine.
But that didn’t last long after high school ended and no longer had to fear of being called a dyke or a faggot. It was only until my early 20’s I finally found the answer — that changing one’s gender is possible. But oh fuckingno, not with my mother. What she believes, how she grew up conservatively and that LGBTQ- especially transgender in her era was an enigma, nearly non-existent.
I might have told her once in childhood I wish I was a boy when she made me put my shirt back on as a kid. But would say “you’re a girl, and that’s how you were born”. Some kind of bullshit like that. It made me mad. Because being a boy as a kid was when I felt most like myself. A bare, flat chest made me free. Girl puberty imprisoned me. And so does my mind. Puberty = Life Sentence.
The people in this world adds more bullets to shoot violent thoughts into my head full-on auto. I hate parental views; now my mom sees me as a daughter- and she’s not bear to want to lose that daughter because a son would be the death of Audrey.
Page 2 of “My Imaginary Penis:
Pain of losing a daughter? That’s not pain, that’s selfishness. Just like any rest of the parents with that mindset. They are all full of shit. How could they not ever think of their own child suffering, and that they hate their gender so bad they cut and want to kill themselves first, and their preference of conservative religion-gay shit makes them believe that the child they are given should stay that way. (in how they prefer them to be)
Even if transgender treatment was discovered and tested during my time, I know how the situation would have turned out. My mother would not have paid a cent.
Children who were able to successfully take puberty blockers and never enter a tortured puberty, those little faggots don’t know how good they fucking have it. I’d kill to have parents who would let their child be happy no matter how different it is to their viewpoints or don’t agree, or scared of it. They are willing to listen to their children, not the other way around. I’d kill to have those resources; 2007 was the birth of puberty blockers and a newfound discovery for treatment of non-conforming transgender children. 2007 was when I was in the 6th grade. Puberty already hit me. The only reason I could conclude why it didn’t both me too much is that my boobs were small. I thought they’d stay that way forever. My autistic brain…
change in body fucked me over now, even if my boobs are still small for the most part.
It started with getting new underwear for my big beans (my two tabbies, my lion and frog).
And there I was thinking of porn and doing plastic surgery on my boy stuffed animals, giving them penises because their middle section looked like a vagina. No boy should ever have that. If I can’t change my appearance, I can pretend how it would be by my imagination of child’s play through my stuffed animal’s spirits through me.
Page 3 of “My Imaginary Penis”:
I can pretend to be them and do the things boys do and experience with their dicks. My boy self as Tony- my stuffed boy doll is like the boy I am in another form. I constructed for him a penis, then got out my girl doll named Ashley (who is Tony’s life-long boyfriend) to have sex with Tony.
Ashley was represented as my dream girl I wished to have in real life, as a child (I liked blonde white hot girls back then), and Tony is me; having those intimate relationships with a beautiful girl. Tony is a boy; inside and out. Ashley is a girl inside and out. Two straight lovers who are in full nature of themselves by awareness. I let Tony fuck Ashley in the ass hard-numpins and stuffed Tony’s big penis in aggressively into her asshole. It took several attempts for Tony to put his dick into her vagina because he has a big dick (and was even bigger since he had an erection) finally went in and Ashley cried and moaned for a good ten minutes. Tony humped slow and gentle from virginal sex. In buttsex, he humped speedily and hard, Tony grunting with all his strength. Then after I fucked Ashley for a good ten minutes (Remember Tony is me). Then I let her suck his dick and touch his erected penis. After that they wrapped each other in their arms and legs as a sloth hugging a tree. After love they made, gracefully sat side by side naked holding hands, surrounded by the scattering of their clothes. I took pictures of their sex positions. My imaginary penis was hard for hours. Rock hard as a Flintstone. Hours making the cloth penises for my boy beans, only to realize I missed the gym cause they closed at 7. I was mad already cause I had no work all that afternoon. Walked around the mall browsing t-shirts at Spencers and got some books for Tommy, my stuffed lion. I purchased some stickers at Zumies for my car and one sticker I got - A stripper booty illustration with “Dat Ass” on it. God, I am such a pervert. I waste too much time in my fantasies…
With that lovely section complete, have a look at some of the other gender-related parts of her notebook:
Can’t buttsex a beautiful young brown girl, with a big ass and small asshole. If I had a penis, it be big and rock hard too bad I am a sad boy born with a puny vagina…
EVERYTHING HURTS
I will be of no use of love for any girl if I don’t have what they need: Boy’s body / male gender.
I was called woman, lady, and ma’am all in the same day.
I hate EVERYTHING about my Gender.EVERYTHING HURTS
I was actually identified as a male today and it felt right but embarrassed of my female body. I SHOULD NOT BE IN THIS BODY!!!
The guy who runs the comic shop is cool and he has friendly customer service skills. He really knows his stuff and treats all the guys fairly. I like being called bud, bro, and man. It just is directed 100% accurate to who I am as a guy inside. If only all other men and boys could see me that way; that my body doesn’t make me a female 100%. More like 5 to none. Sometimes people do identify me right away as a he since I am smaller and look younger than others my age, it helps, but when I’m called a lady or ma’am- damn it makes me not want to exist. The body in my exists only to me. I’m just damn tired of being called and identified by a gender I am not. AT ALL. At least I don’t have big boobs or a butt, but yet I hate having boobs at all. They might have grown just a bit and I want to die.
The cocoon of my old self will die when I leave my body behind and the boy in me will be free; in my butterfly transformation; the real me.
If God won’t give me a boy body in heaven, then Jesus is a faggot.
I need a transdoctor…
the female gender role makes me want to not exist…
to be completely gone in physical form,…
off the face of the earth.
Life of a virgin fag…
No sex in real life
No love in life→Resort to cartoon porn
→or let my stuffed animals fuck
Audrey Hale was alienated from her body and felt imprisoned in it. She felt free when she got to “be a boy” with a flat, bare chest as a child, but the later growth of breasts brought distress. She wanted to be seen as male. She really, really wanted a dick. Indeed, she had an imaginary penis that was “Rock hard as a Flintstone” for several hours after simulating sex with stuffed animals (perhaps a case of phantom penis?). Hale was also autistic.
If you were to guess whether her gender issues originated in social contagion (ROGD), gender non-conforming homosexuality (HSTS), or sexual attraction to being male (AAP), which one of these three seems most likely?
I typically honor cross-gender pronouns and names, but I’ll pass on that in this instance. School shooters don’t deserve kindness.
How awful. Of course, her way of resolving her problems was terrible, and so I'm having trouble mustering a whole lot of empathy.