If you read this blog at all, you’ll perhaps know I’ve been getting increasingly unpleasant transphobic abuse online for the last six months.
And it’s not because the world is awful, it’s just not. This falls squarely at the door of the sad little individual who keeps targeting me. Absolutely dying for my attention, he keeps upping the ante with more and more desperate shock tactics.
So far he’s asked if my father abused me, claimed to be a necrophiliac, equated being Trans with being a child molester and used every single low insult he can to try to make me respond. Never going to happen. He’s not worth the time.
My only response will be to see him prosecuted because that’s the best way to deal with trolls. His latest questions included how my Father would feel about me being Trans. As if I didn’t already know the answer.
That’s simple. Prouder than his parents will be when he is revealed for the awful little coward he is. And that day is coming. He is not remotely anonymous, despite his misplaced confidence. His friends and family will get to see the real him. But he’ll always have my pity. That’s all I have to give him. Not anger, not outrage. I genuinely feel sorry for him. But not for what’s coming his way. He did that himself.