and the animal rescue they ran - was that it was insulation. As Jean Luc Picard said, "villains who twirl their mustaches are easy to spot. Those who clothe themselves in good deeds are well camouflaged." My parents unambiguously helped a lot of people. They also were abusive racist transphobes.

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They never saw the missed vaccinations, or the conversion therapy, or the waterboarding with vinegar. Every year, my parents were lauded by the staff at the Hospital. And the beauty of the annual candy runs - and the readathon fundraisers they had us do for various nonprofits,

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They never saw my parents tell a gay couple that answered the door during trick or treating that they were an abomination and should be kept away from children, or the interracial couple that their children would be aberrations. And of course, they never saw how my parents treated me at home.

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The staff would gush about the candy and tell my parents they were amazing people. My parents would beam with delight. They'd get thank you calls for days afterwards. Of course, what the hospital staff never saw was the costume where my father put me in Blackface.

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When I was growing up, every Halloween, my parents would take me and my sisters trick or treating. When you live on a farm in the middle of nowhere, that meant driving to the nearest town. And then, after we were done, we'd bring the candy to the county hospital for the children there.

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