Empathy Is Not a Zero-Sum Game

When you sit down with someone and listen to their story, the barriers of misunderstanding start to fall away.

Photo by Aiden Craver on Unsplash

I know this is nothing new, and you’ve probably heard all of this before, but I’ve had some conversations lately that I want to expand on. These discussions have stuck with me because they’ve reminded me how much work we still have to do when it comes to understanding gender identity and, more importantly, showing basic respect for one another—even within our own Queer community.

Let me start with something I’ve heard a lot: “I shouldn’t have to subscribe to someone else’s gender identity.” At first glance, that might sound like a firm stance on personal beliefs. But when I hear it, I wonder—what does that actually mean? No one is asking anyone to rewrite their entire belief system overnight. Beliefs evolve over time, shaped by understanding and empathy. What’s being asked is much simpler: respecting someone’s name, pronouns, and identity.

That’s not subscribing to an ideology; it’s about recognizing their humanity.

Think about how we naturally adjust to respect people in other areas. If someone introduces themselves as “Dr. Smith,” we don’t insist on calling them “Mister.” If someone tells us they go by a nickname, we don’t argue and call them something else—although we could have some fun conversations about Richard being called Dick (but I digress). Respecting pronouns works the same way. It’s not about agreeing with everything about someone’s identity—it’s about showing them the same courtesy we’d hope for ourselves.

These conversations remind me of arguments we’ve seen in history, like when people defended segregation. Back then, spaces labeled “whites only” were justified in the name of tradition and comfort. But those defenses were built on dehumanizing others. And today, denying trans people access to spaces or even the basic respect of using their name and pronouns feels like a new version of the same story: using comfort as an excuse to exclude.

It’s not anyone’s job to make you feel comfortable.

What I keep coming back to is the question: Where does it end? If we’re gender policing trans people, what’s next? Who gets to decide who’s worthy of respect and who’s not? The minute we start telling trans people they don’t deserve the basic right of living authentically, we’re opening the door to further discrimination for other marginalized groups. It’s a slippery slope that doesn’t stop with trans people—it creates a culture where any group can be targeted for not fitting someone else’s idea of “acceptable.” If only there was a time in history we could look back to and see how subjugating others worked out… 🤔

I’ve also heard people express empathy for trans people while still holding onto “concerns” about policies that affirm gender identity. Empathy is a great start—it’s a bridge—but true empathy means listening to and respecting someone else’s lived experience—just like you would want your lived experience respected. For trans people, that means understanding that transitioning, whether socially or medically, isn’t a casual choice. It’s often a life-saving one, supported by medical research and endorsed by major organizations worldwide.

When we dismiss this reality or say, ’It’s just discomfort with the body,’ we’re oversimplifying something profoundly serious. Gender dysphoria is real, and the steps people take to align with their true selves aren’t about convenience; they’re about survival. The truth is, policies supporting trans inclusion—such as allowing trans individuals to access gender-affirming spaces like restrooms—do not increase safety risks for others. This is supported by research from the ACLU, the Human Rights Campaign, the CDC and others, which show that such policies don’t endanger anyone else. Trans women using women’s restrooms aren’t a threat—they’re simply people trying to live their lives with dignity.

I know, I know it’s easy to get defensive when we feel like our comfort zone is being challenged. But supporting trans people isn’t about taking anything away from anyone else. It’s about creating a world where no one’s dignity is up for debate.

I know some of you will accuse me of ‘virtue signaling.’ Well, if that’s what you want to call it, I’ll own it—but to me, it’s about striving for fairness. Standing up for trans rights, respecting their humanity, and advocating for inclusion isn’t about performing or showing off—it’s about doing what’s right. It’s about fairness, equality, and treating others with the same dignity we all deserve.

I’ve realized that one of the most powerful ways to grow is by having conversations. As an older white cisgender gay man, I’ve had to sit with myself and think about how my privilege has allowed me into spaces and conversations that others were not able to access. Even after being out for 40 years, I’ve had to acknowledge my discomfort with gender and sexuality and question why I feel this way. This is my work to do; it’s no one else’s responsibility to make me comfortable with their existence. When you sit down with someone, hear their story, and see their humanity, the barriers of misunderstanding start to fall away.

I encourage everyone to meet and talk to trans people. Hear their stories—you might be surprised at the similarities in struggles. It’s through these connections that empathy grows, and we begin to see the profound impact that acceptance and support can have on someone’s life—and on our own.

At the end of the day, this isn’t about compliance or ideology. It’s about respect. Respecting someone’s name, pronouns, and identity is a small step, but it’s one that can make an enormous difference in someone’s life.

And isn’t that what we all want—to be seen, heard, and respected for who we truly are?