Amanda considered her latest comment on a post concerning a transgender woman. It had taken some time to discover the woman's "dead" name, or as Amanda considered it, their "real name." Referring to him throughout by male pronouns had been by comparison a snap. She pressed enter with a feeling of satisfaction. Let the bitch know that he wasn't fooling everybody, that some people like Amanda didn't buy their "transition" bullshit. People were born one sex or the other, and that was the end of it.
Amanda hated trans women. She considered them poseurs who didn't understand the inherent misery of being a woman. They claimed to be happy as women, but Amanda knew that was impossible. She hated being a woman, and assumed that all women felt like her. She hated trans men only a little less, though. She considered them cowards and weaklings taking the easy way out. Trying to join the oppressor class that Amanda knew, just knew, would never accept them as equals. She had cut off one of her oldest friends when they transitioned to male. Just being around trans men made her feel, well, peculiar. Amanda considered herself a butch lesbian, although she hadn't had sex in years. She did have three cats, all of them neutered.
Amanda's face felt itchy. She raised her hand to her cheek. Was that stubble she felt?
Ty smiled.