Doodledog
*I don't know if it's a deliberate ploy, or whether those who accuse us of being anti-trans genuinely believe we are - maybe a bit of both, but either way, it's tiresome.*
I think a lot of the slurs come because people don't have answers to sensible questions about what 'living as a woman' means, or how someone can 'just feel that they are in the wrong body'. Maybe it's frustration that they know their 'arguments' don't stand up that makes them lash out?
Yes, that's a point.
Although I have to say that if someone told me that they didn't feel comfortable or happy 'in their body' - I'd be inclined to believe them. During puberty, I was distinctly unhappy that I was developing into a woman although how much of this was a 'cultural' thing - in that certain behaviours were expected of 'young ladies' (1950s), I don't really know. It might even have been that I wasn't ready for adulthood. I was at boarding school (co-ed) and the rules were rigid... boys did this, girls did that. I wanted to do woodwork and play cricket, instead I was forced to do domestic science and play lacrosse, and I hated both. And told anybody, repeatedly, whose ear I could grab how "unfair" and "stupid" it was. Maybe all young people go through this stage, I don't know, but I was certainly miserable for a quite a while because the 'inner' me did not identify with the biological fact of being a female. At all.
That changed virtually overnight though. My mother, a connoisseur of the Nouvelle Vague cinema started to take me to see the films of the time and I fell in love with the main characters, one after the other, and tried to imitate the looks of actresses like Jeanne Moreau, Catherine Deneuve, etc... so God knows what was going on in my brain.
But I can sympathise with anyone who feels they are in the 'wrong body' - for a few years, I definitely was. However, I don't think I 'identified' as a male, nor did I try to live like one. But I did envy their freedoms. I wore boy's jeans so that I could enjoy more of that 'freedom'; the present from a family member of a 'frilly' blouse sent me into a depression; friends trying to get me to experiment with make-up made me angry. And I didn't stop wearing ankle socks until I was about 16 because the alternative was suspenders and stockings which I thought were 'disgusting'. It was an unhappy period.