I need to preface this story by mentioning that it contains a transphobic slur that may be triggering. Proceed with caution.
A few weeks before I came out, my mum was telling a story about a show she watched in Vegas, Menopause the Musical. One of the lead roles in the play was played by a trans woman. Upon hearing this, my father said "What would she... no, it know about menopause..." I felt slapped in the face, and left their house almost immediately. I cried the whole way home and for hours after. I thought then and there that he would never accept me.
Fast forward a few years, and after an admittedly rocky start, my dad is still in my life, and using my name and pronouns. There is this tendency, especially among older cishet white dudes, to hate in the abstract. They experience a kind of empathy gap, and it takes a personal experience to close that gap. It doesn't work for everyone, some people are bound and determined to hate until they die of it, but it's worth giving people the initial chance, if that chance can be given without undue risk to yourself.
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