The transgender paradigm says to make trans people all about gender and hide our sex issues, but that process is demeaning to me because I’m exactly about what they say to hide. It says what I’m about is offensive, shameful, and even transphobic.
There is a social one-two punch with this that can hit long-term people like me hard:
1. Most people don’t want to deal with trans person issues.
2. “Transgender” as an umbrella socially identifies me as something I could never be.
If I complain, I’m identified as either crazy or a troublemaker. If I persist, I may be accused of saying or doing something I did not say or do—to hurt me, get me to stop, and/or get me to go away.
If I am in a group, if I sense they are responding to me falsely per the transgender paradigm, and if I try to say what I really am, I’m usually told “No,” that I cannot bring it up—as if the message is, based on how they misunderstand me, “We will tolerate you being here, but have the grace to pretend you’re not you.”
Things like these are deeply painful and leave me less willing to socialize with such people or groups (most of them). This promotes social alienation, makes integration—or even feeling good about myself—difficult as I cannot really do so unless I’m valued as myself.
“Value yourself; it doesn’t matter what other people think of you” is an empowerment that can sound good in social media, and may help some in the short-term. But over decades, the ceaseless, daily knowledge that you are demeaned in general, that what you really are inside is not okay—from family, neighbors, from people who might have otherwise become friends, from co-workers, from people you don’t even know in organizations, universities and government, with very little support—can seriously weigh.
The process leaves me here, among other people, yet disconnected—a ghost in a crowd—which also weighs.
As hard as life was for me in the 20th century, before the transgender social movement grew in the 21st century, life is much harder now.