Just to add an anecdote from my own recent trip to Emerald City Comic Con in Seattle, I thought I'd sit in at a panel on the dynamics of shipping that a friend of mine was presenting. After a nice lecture on the history and appeal of romance in fiction, the presenter started an "improv" style exercise where the professional comic creators up on the panel would brainstorm a story up from some character traits that the audience supplied.
Five minutes later we had the basics laid out; in a post-apocalyptic future, some of the last remaining human scientists living on the international space station are attempting to restart humanity by artificially breeding a new generation of test-tube babies. Our protagonist is a short, cynical botanist and the romantic partner is their polar opposite, working on an "opposites attract" and "emotional friction in a confined workspace" model. Everyone's having a good time and having a few laughs and then…
The big ugly tranny grabs the mic. "Is the male character cis or trans?" Nobody else was even entertaining the possibility, but wanting to be inclusive the presenter left that decision in the tranny's hands. Obviously, our protagonist was now a dumpy trans-man. And the love interest? A "femme-presenting non-binary person", whatever that means. The tranny attempted to lecture us on the precise definition, but nobody really cared.
The fun was gone, and instead everyone was wearing fake smiles and carefully choosing their words to avoid offending the trans-beast. And sitting a little further down in the same row from them, I can tell you that the tranny was 250 pounds and STANK.
We need to round these people up and put them in sanitariums where they can get the (electro-shock) help that they need.