Author: RK Kiran
Publisher: Blue Hill Publications
’Nang enthokpa society dudei nang chenningasu kem kaide nattraga nangna adugi society duda change purakpa ama(You can escape from the society if they are pushing you away or you can be the one who brought changes to the society.).’ It was my sister’s words that brought me here. It was one of the painful nights that I went through, and it still hurts to write about it. Growing up in a middle-class family as the youngest child among 5, I received the love in all forms. I grew up playing with the boys, and it wasn’t a surprise to everyone when they found out that I had a girlfriend because I was always a boy, and there were no surprises of me coming out. Of course, like everyone else, they tried to stop me from becoming myself when I was young. I mean, who would happily accept when their sweet daughter is becoming a son? And at school, since I didn’t know how to wear the school uniform, which is Phanek(traditional wrap-around for women), my grandmother had to tie the ends so that it won’t fall off and would untie it when I came back from school for four years. I can’t imagine that I had my bathroom schedule so tight that I never peed for 8 hrs. And I don’t fit in the category, or my character doesn’t tick the box where the society sets for the transmen that they should be good at sports. I’m the total opposite. I’m a writer as I tag myself with a very sensitive heart, and I like to think of myself as a romantic guy. I like the idea of being in love and waiting for her with flowers or watching the sunrise together or holding her hand while driving to a quiet place we only know or the art of writing love. But when I found the person who shared everything I wanted, I was smashed right in the face. I kept questioning myself, and for a while, I was lost. All the while I was blaming society, I realized that we couldn’t make everyone in the whole world accept us, but there are people who do, and that’s it. And thanks to all the books that I’ve read that put words on my subconscious that success is not just about winning, it’s about losing too, but most importantly, it’s about how the Phoenix rises from the ashes. And I found myself again, and this time I was already fit in my idea of success. Back then, my definition of success was to live financially free, but now it changed. And this time, it all makes sense. I was becoming myself, and no amount of money would make me that happy when I had my first shot of Testosterone. You have no idea how happy I was when my voice broke down for the first time. And no one would make me that happy when I saw these teeny tiny beards growing up. I finally started getting comfortable with my body, and I realized success is not about the number of digits in my account or the number of security personnel walking next to me or the number of cars or the fame. It’s about how I perceived myself, how I think of myself and The Art Of Becoming Myself. That is my definition of success, and this is my success story. And my story is not a complaint or resentment towards the society that I went through shit. I’m just trying to show you how we feel about things, and after all, you and I are human beings. I’m just trying to prove that we are normal people with feelings and emotions like you guys have. I want the world to know that we have a heart that can love someone too.