My Talk with a Self-Hating Transphobe

This is mostly based on a true story.

As many of us do, I sometimes like to meander around dating apps. I like to talk, and I find there’s always a nice cache of people who are willing to talk too (of course there are a lot who don’t, but that’s not the point). So I periodically install the apps, build my profile with some cute photos and (hopefully) a witty description, and start scrolling, swiping and chatting.

It is an amusing distraction I let myself indulge in and, when I inevitably delete them, I always end up enriched by the experience, one way or another. Having contact with people, no matter if they manifest as barely more than glowing glyphs on a glass slab, has a way of changing you, even if it’s just a tiny bit.

Most conversations are ephemeral; just a couple of people reaching out in this (still) new way of social interaction, testing the world from a space of perceived safety. Of course, there are always people who transcend the app, and upgrade to full contacts in my phone (cue in sounds of amazement), I sometimes even add a name and photo to them! But most interactions fizzle out in a matter of days if not hours. And those upgraded contacts also tend to fizzle out, more often than not.

You know, the vapid, immediate gratification desire, of this late-stage capitalist dystopia we live in. And I am an active part of it.

Then there are the conversations that make a difference. Sometimes it’s because they are involved, interesting, with a person full of dimensions worth exploring; where you get a new friend out of them (or at least an acquaintance). Sometimes it’s because they are funny, quirky, or weird in some good way, and you learn something new and curious. Then other times they point you to some new show, place, restaurant you never heard of, and then you go there and have a lovely experience, regardless of who recommended it in the first place. Sometimes even forgotten.

And then, there’s the unsettling ones. The ones that make you think. That yank you out of your preferred zone of comfort, and face you with the reality that there are all kinds of people out there, a thumb’s distance. And they can start as innocently as any of the other ones.

Allow me to paraphrase some parts for effect.

— “Hello”, shows a yellow bubble over a black background.
— “Hello”, I answer back (I usually just mirror back unimaginative greetings).
— “I’m home alone, wanna come?”, they ask.

I go check the profile. There’s no description or information, and only one single very blurry photo, of what may or may not be a head in a dark room. I take some time to reply, so they write again:

— “I am attached, but I love trans women”, they say.
— “Attached as in married?”, I ask.
— “Yes, married”, they answer.
— “Oh, so are you ENM, poly or something of the sort?”, I ask back.
— “No. My wife is out of town, and I have the place for myself. Wanna come play?”, they say, “I just hope my neighbours don’t see anything. I hate that I am doing this”.

I have some experience with dating apps, so I already know how this conversation is going to go. I decide to just leave it there, since I don’t intend to answer that request. However, there was an unexpected plot twist with this one. After a while, they write again.

— “You know, I love trans women, but I don’t approve LGBT taught at schools”.

Why they just blurted that out, I do not know. My belief is a lot of people really need to take things out of their chest, and this place of perceived safety and anonymity works as an outlet for those who have no other.

I ponder the comment for a bit.

— “Why?”, I simply write.
— “It sexualizes kids”, they answer.
— “In what way?”, I ask.
— “It’s not right to say that a man can love another man”, is their answer.
— “So, it’s not right for a father to love his son?”, is my top-of-mind reply, “Is love sex?”.
— “That’s not the same. You know that’s not what I mean”, they say.
— “Tell me what you mean then”, I reply.
— “You know what I mean, don’t play fool with me”, they say.
— “Is it ok to tell kids a husband loves his wife?”, I ask.
— “Of course, a husband must love his wife”, they answer.
— “So, why is it wrong to say that a husband loves his husband?”, I pose, “Why can’t two loving husbands bring their kid to school, and show them support as a family?”.

I get no answer to that for a very long time. I thought that was that, and if it had stopped here, I would have forgotten about this conversation.

After a while, I hear the app chirp.

— “You make very interesting points. I never thought of it that way”.

My reaction to this was, frankly, surprise. I had barely made any points. I just answered with whatever answer came to my head, not even questioning the meaning of systemic hatred toward a whole section of the population.

After some more minutes of silence, I got one last message.

— “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me”.

And then they promptly proceeded to delete their account.

Some days passed and I keep this conversation in my mind. I decide to write about it, as I am doing now. Then, on one sleepless night, like those my brain loves to give me, I hear the chirp of the dating app. I open it and find a very similar profile, with no description or information, and the same single blurry photo.

— “Hey, what happened? Did you block me?”, I ask.
— “No, I deleted my account. I am partnered, you know?”, they answer.
— “Yes, you said so”, I reply.

A few moments of silence. I thought that was it.

— “I’m home alone, wanna come?”, they ask, “I am attached, but I love trans women”.

This time I let it rest, and that was the end of it.

I always say it’s nobody’s fault to be ignorant. We are all born barely knowing how to breathe and eat. The problem arises when ignorance is paired with arrogance. When people are not willing to accept there are things they don’t know or don’t understand, and prefer to destroy them rather than make the effort to learn and accept. When fear wins.

Conversations like this one remind me how so many homophobes and transphobes have succumbed to that fear. Fear even to themselves. They have internalized the hatred. They blindly follow what their environment tells them. But sometimes they are not hateful. Not yet, at least. Some of them want to break out of it, but they don’t know it.

There is an opportunity for change there. Some people need a helping hand or a supportive set of ears, an empathetic pair of eyes, to reach out to them, and nudge them in the right direction.

However, make no mistake, don’t lower your guard: some don’t.