Perhaps it isn't misogyny, trans or otherwise.
Instead, consider that this is a combination of empathy and your own dysphoria, rather than any "judgment" on your part. See, our dsyphoria makes us fine-honed critics -- we know exactly how to read ourselves and other people, based on what is, of course, a superficial collection of physical attributes. But this is how the world works -- and I'm not talking about the terms in which people fit into a hierarchy of physical beauty, but how it is we come to instantly, subconsciously, automatically categorize people into the categories of "male" and "female." The truth is, it's entirely based on embodiment (which includes voice) and they are pretty damn clear.
So we look in the mirror, and we don't really have to imagine what other people see, because it's pretty plain and obvious what's what. Ooh, that brow ridge, that has to go. Oh, my jaw, much too square, let's see if we can't get that filed down. Hmm, still haven't found that workable combination of pitch and resonance, back to the tape recorder. More and more electrolysis. Hell, just walking can be subject to critique.
And it's all rooted in dysphoria. Which, yes, is becomes a form of self-hatred in front of the mirror, but I never found myself hating on the changes I made that switched the "automatic" visual categorization of myself to female. I hated that which got in the way.
But, anyways. I was at a queer gathering several weeks ago (I'm pansexual) and there were about fifty people at this party. Including a couple of crossdressers, and one trans woman, Anne. Who I didn't even realize was trans, I thought she was with the CDs, but without any youth, fashion sense, or indeed anything going for her visually speaking. But when Anne and I bumped into each other and made our pleasant introductions, the first thing out of her mouth was that she's trans and has been on HRT for five years, and despite everything about her physical appearance to the contrary, I couldn't help but see a woman inside. No problem getting her pronouns right, and thankfully in this environment, paying attention to other people interacting with her, everyone got exactly who she was and treated her respectfully, no big deal.
This is not the reaction I would have had when I was your age, and suffering from dysphoria. Of course, in those days, the only trans women I saw were at support group. And there'd be plenty who had a lot to be dysphoric about. Well, just witnessing such dysphoria, how could I not be reminded of my own dysphoria? When there's so much to empathize with? My instinct was to create distance, which was really all about creating distance from my own dysphoria.
Of course, all that Anne really had to rely on to get gendered female was her narrative. In this particular kind of space, that worked. But was she still treated differently than the other women? Yes. Because you can't help but be subconsciously affected by someone's embodiment, I think, until you get to know them really well. (The CDs also got different treatment.) The trick is to recognize it and put it to the side, and really look at the human being underneath the flesh. This is not how we usually make our way through the world, unless you're some kind of spiritual master or something. Anne, as it turns out, is a very kind soul and so it made sense to me that everyone there kind of looked out for her.
This is turning into a ramble. Sorry for the disjointedness of it.
Long story short (tl;dr as the cool kids put it), I think what you're experiencing can certainly fade away after you've made it through transition and those feelings of dysphoria towards yourself are finally put to rest. The jarring empathic response can eventually be filled with compassion.
If we could all be so lucky.
