Winner

1 years ago

Jai Shree Ram

@Aquabutterfly

“How do you feel after winning the men’s surfing competition?” The reporter had asked him when he had finally gained his breath.

That was the first question everyone had for him. They were all curious to know his feelings on beating the other men, as if he was not a man himself. Their judging eyes dissected every part of his soul to find out who he really was underneath. 

He wondered how long he would have to endure this scrutiny. How long would the wandering eyes stare down his shirt and strong hands “accidentally” brush against his passing body? How long would men ask each other to go easy on him in a game of cards and how long would the women whisper to be aware of him on the dance floor? Would he ever be accepted by everyone, ever be included by anyone?

Sure, he had biologically been born a female. That was the gender assigned to him by the doctors as soon as he came into existence. He had been decked up in pretty dresses and his hair were done in tiny pigtails. He was always told to lower his head and speak softly, to sit with his legs closed and listen to his older brothers. Because that was his duty decided by the society. 

But that’s not who he was. That’s not what he wanted to be.

So why did the world not understand that? 

His own parents had turned their backs on him when he finally revealed his truth to them. In the beginning, they had slapped him for joking so horribly. After all, they knew they had given birth to a daughter. When he insisted that he did not feel as if he was a girl, they had forcefully taken him to a psychiatrist, claiming that he must have lost his mind to confuse his gender. When even that failed, they had practically sold him off to marry a man, believing that his identity skepticism was merely due to his lack of experience with a man.

It had been the worst time of his life. Every time his husband approached him, he felt a sense of terror and he would retreat further into himself. It was harder to share a bed with a man he knew held a different desire towards him. It had created an even bigger hole in his heart for sharing the space with a man he did not fancy.

“Why wouldn’t you let me touch you?” His husband had questioned him on many occasions, until his thin thread of patience snapped. 

The years that followed had been a nightmare. He had withdrawn himself from reality, hating himself for not being normal. He had tried so hard to act like a woman, to believe that he is a woman. He had grown out his hair and began adorning jewelry on his wrists and ears. He made himself wear skirts and dresses, yelling in his head, “You’re a woman. Behave as one.”

But this was something he just could not change. 

And strengthening his resolve, he fought the unfair justice and rules he was bound in to build an identity for himself. He had fought his own people to gain that divorce from his husband, and distanced himself from the family that had raised him. He even filed a case against his parents to bring justice to the younger version of him.

Of course, there had been more challenges. There had been more accusations degrading his body, and his identity. Every word he said was analyzed and countered, to prove that he was delusional and was a woman seeking revenge. And he wondered if the opposing forces even understood the context of this battle.

Yet, he refused to back down and conform himself to the old ways of civilization. No matter how many times he was underestimated, he pushed to prove them wrong. Every voice that kept reminding him of his anatomical difference from a man, every taunt that refused to acknowledge that he was transgender, he dealt with them with a happy face and polite rebuttal. Because he would never stoop to their level.

He might have been born a woman but he was a man and he would fight till his last breath to earn the respect he deserves. 

Drawing in a long deep breath, he smiled at the reporter and replied with an air of confidence, “Like a winner.”