The reaction of my transgender acquaintances when they discover how forthcoming I am with my sociopathic condition is that of horror. They see their struggle, in part, as one of perception. Deviance from the narrative of a demographic struggling to do no harm while being given respect for their dysphoria results in a great uneasiness. These acquaintances of mine fear that, by acknowledging that every condition, including the transgender condition, comes with myriad subtypes, the support of those that can only accept “puppies and unicorns” will dissipate. That is, they worry that if the underbelly of their cherished demographic is exposed, then support from many will erode.
Such is not limited to sociopathy or transgender individuals, though. At the conclusion of last week’s NFC Championship between Seattle and San Francisco, Seattle cornerback Richard Sherman gave a passionate post-game interview with the media in which many perceived him to be unhinged and aggressive. Racist remarks by the Twittersphere were prevalent and many of African descent worried that the the struggles of blacks would be damaged by the resulting perceptions by many. So many, in order to protect a larger struggle, wish that the more passionate (or unseemly, in the case of sociopathy) subsets of their population would remain quiet.
The message, in my case, is clear. I can be sociopathic or transgender, but not both. The inane fear of having the cause damaged by admitting my place on the human spectrum scares many. I am persona non grata when it comes to speaking my mind on trans issues and many would rather blackball me than let my voice be heard. Everyone is unique and, for a proper understanding of any general demographic, the voices of all sub-demographics need to be allowed to speak. Blackballing the controversial only prevents true knowledge from being gained.