“I hated my breasts! I was abused.” – Story of a Trans ID-ing Indian Woman

Groped, touched “by mistake” and leered at, I developed a profound hatred towards my breasts as a teenager. This hatred extended to my whole body, thanks to Indian men, and the impossible standards of performative femininity. Early experience of sexual abuse made matters worse for (what I consider) my dysphoria. The decision to hate myself allowed society to keep me under the thumb. This female self-hatred was not uncommon in my time, most of my friends knew we were dealt losing cards. Each one of us wished we were a man, seeing how the male sex class got away with a plethora of misdeeds.  ‘Becoming a man’ seemed like a golden ticket to paradise.

Fast forward three decades, the body hatred is pretty much intact amongst all youngsters I see and interact with, only now there seems to be a popular workaround to the problem. I deeply empathise with women and girls suffering from dysphoria; but the way the world is claiming to ‘solve it’ is as preposterous as it is criminal.

With all these thoughts bearing down on me, I made Dysphoric: a four part documentary series. It took a critical look at how rich countries allowed young girls access to medical intervention with next to no regulation. Despite my several desperate attempts at pointing out the dangers of medical transition and seeking a platform to talk about it, Indian media has shunned my advocacy. Like the rest of the world, India too has sold itself to the ‘trans’ fad. Thousands of young women are medically altering their body for reasons that stem from sexual abuse and trauma. Despite these underlying conditions, Indian therapists and surgeons have found the shortcut of instant affirmation is a sure-fire way to make wads of cash.

The following excerpt is from an interview of a ‘trans’ identifying female who has had a double mastectomy and been on hormones for seven years. While the interview is meant to champion her decision and her ‘trans’ identity, all I could find were glaring red flags and the apathy of a medical system that feeds on women’s trauma. Since the interview is in Tamil, I have translated parts of it and edited for brevity.

Note:

• R is the interviewee, M is the host.
• I have translated it as is. I have not altered their usage of certain words which I wouldn’t use myself. Some context/clarification within brackets are mine.
• Trigger warning for rape, violence and abuse.

M: When did you realise you were a transman? How was your life before that?

R: I was 8 when I realised I was a transman. I wasn’t comfortable wearing women’s clothes. I don’t have parents, so they (adoptive parents) avoided dressing me up as a girl. At 13, when I came of age (started menstruating) I was asked to wear girl clothes, I realised how much I hated to wear them. After this, the idea became even stronger in my head– I am a male, not a female. I can’t feel like a female. I like having short hair, hated wearing skirts and blouses, and loved wearing trousers and shirts. I even mentioned this at home, but they called me a psycho, a mental person. I tried explaining as much as I could, but they wouldn’t listen.

I don’t have parents, my perima and peripa (could be either parent’s siblings, and their spouse) brought me up. I don’t know if they are indeed my relatives, to be honest. I clearly remember the second day of my periods, I was seated in the hut, I was bleeding. At about 2 AM, my uncle came to the hut, that night I suffered abuse from him. After which, I couldn’t bear the fact that my uncle –my father figure– could do something like that. I started running then, I am still running.

M: What exactly happened that night?

My uncle came to me at 2 AM,  dropped his clothes down and asked me to touch his penis. I begged him to not do this, I fell at his feet, cried but he wouldn’t listen.

R: This doesn’t just happen to a transman, but happens to women too. If you are an orphan, and someone else is caring for you, they use us for their needs alone. Some may use the children for financial gain, some expect sexual favours because we are not thier own daughter anyway. That’s what happened to me too. My uncle, who was drunk at that time, behaved that way with me without having any sense of what he was doing. So he entered the hut and was talking to me normally. He was wearing a lungi (a loose skirt like garment) and basically dropped it down and asked me to touch his penis. I begged him to not do this, I fell at his feet, cried but he wouldn’t listen. I told him I was already feeling so horrible bleeding this way, it was new and it made me so uncomfortable, because that’s not my body. I had to push him and run away. I ran to parrys corner (Chennai) bus stop and decided to hide there. But even there, several men tried to abuse me – monsters are everywhere after all.

For a whole month, I languished in that bus stop with no change of clothes and no food. I started smelling so repugnant. During the time, several dogs (I think she is referring to men) came about to sniff me because I stayed right there day after day, so they did wonder why. Many passersby would give me food, and I would live off of it.

M: Did you already transition by then?

R: No, I was wearing men’s clothes and had short hair so they would call me thambi (brother) but they can tell based on my body shape and a huge bloody stain on my back. So they were just trying to say ‘thambi’ to lure me in, but they knew I was a woman. One of them asked me to go with him to his house, and I gave in because I was out on the road, rain or shine, for a whole month. Though I was very sceptical, I wanted to just sleep in a better place for a night. Three men entered the house that night. It was the same hut-type house, so I could find a way to run away from them by tearing a hole in the hut. I hid inside a public toilet all night because I had no idea where to go or who to seek help from.

***

M: What sort of things gave you the impression that you weren’t female, even though you were born as one?

I fell for this one girl in my class. How can I, as a woman, like another woman? I must be a man after all. Everything seemed to make sense then, I hated the uniform, long hair and other regular girl things. So I told myself that my body will soon change from this girl body into a boy too.

R: I hated the school uniform that girls were supposed to wear – skirts. I would often complain to the headmaster about my dislike for it. I would ask for the shorts and shirt to wear. But they would just scold me away. Secondly, I wouldn’t use the girls’ bathroom. I would wait for the boys to leave so I could use their bathroom, but if someone enters, I would run away from there. Next, I hated the way girls had to have long hair and plait it; I just wanted to have short hair so I would often tonsure my head claiming I had lice. I would always hang out with the boys, sitting with girls would make me so shy.

I started having a crush on some of the girls in my class – you know how guys have crush on girls? – I used to feel the same way about girls too. I truly fell for this one girl in my class and I started to wonder why. How can I, as a woman, like another woman? I must be a man after all. Everything seemed to make sense then, I hated the uniform, long hair and other regular girl things. So I told myself that my body will soon change from this girl body into a boy too.

M: After you ran away from your uncle’s house, did you continue your schooling? Did you get any help with that?

R: No. I didn’t like to go to school anymore because I faced a problem there. I have always been very elusive in school, and the school watchman took note of that. I would ask to go to the bathroom but would just stay out of class for a while and get right back, so the watchman asked me why. So I opened up to him by explaining how much I hated the uniform and using the girls toilet etc. He started talking to me after that, asked me a lot of questions and I too explained everything about my desire to be a boy. I was just after some affection at that time because I didn’t get it anywhere else. He would often bring me food from his house and make sure I ate etc.

My uncle shamed me by saying “you are so young and you already are looking for men to sleep with, here let me give you this log, and maybe I can help you with your problem myself.” My skirt was lifted, my shirt was torn, I was beaten mercilessly and asked all kinds of godawful questions in front of the whole school. Who would like to go to school after that?

I don’t know what happened to him after that, but he started throwing his arms around my shoulder more often. Gradually, it started sliding down to my chest. I was very shocked at first but soon got extremely angry that I attempted to hit him. I told him I would complain about him to the headmaster but that didn’t deter him. He said I was an Ali (a derogatory term used in India to refer to anyone who is non conforming) and threatened to complain about me instead. If the headmaster came to know about all this, he would send me to a mental hospital or a home (orphanage), he said. In order to avoid that, I was told I should comply and sleep with him in a room next to the headmaster’s office. But I complained to the headmaster anyway and instead of supporting me, she took the side of the watchman who was spewing lies about me. The watchman said I was the one who was asking random men to sleep with me by constantly standing outside the boys toilet, and that I should be disciplined for it. I was asked to bring my parents to school because the headmaster had her own doubts about me.

I thought perhaps at least my parents would take my side; instead, they hit me in full public view. My uncle shamed me by saying “you are so young and you already are looking for men to sleep with, here let me give you this log, and maybe I can help you with your problem myself.” My skirt was lifted, my shirt was torn, I was beaten mercilessly and asked all kinds of godawful questions in front of the whole school. Who would like to go to school after that?

Even though I loved going to school, wanted to study and aspired to do well, I gave up that dream and offered to work full-time for my parents. That’s what they wanted from me anyway. Within a few months since I left school, I came of age. So that was the end of everything.

***

M: Did society make you feel angry?

R: Indeed it did. I wanted to take a machete and slash everyone’s throats. I was so disappointed with my headmaster for not listening to my plight. I was so angry with my uncle who, despite being like my father, abused me. And then there was the watchman who I trusted. When a young girl is struggling to fit in, you don’t punish her like this. Everyone was just after my body. There was nobody to just calmly talk to me about things. Because I knew that when there is an opportunity to clearly explain myself, I would do that. Instead of asking me about my feelings, try to understand me, everyone just ignored me. Those who claimed to want to talk, ended up exploiting me instead.

When a young girl is struggling to fit in, you don’t punish her like this. Everyone was just after my body. There was nobody to just calmly talk to me about things.

M: What is your transition journey?

R: I have been having hormone injections for the past seven years. I consulted a doctor and followed his instructions. I also got my top surgery. But to be able to do that, I received help from someone I know. It costs about 60/70,000 rupees, and I couldn’t afford that. I was barely making around 8000 a month, and couldn’t save enough. I used to work in a salon as a housekeeping staff. The area manager and her husband Dr. Kathiravan helped me during that time. It was this doctor who offered to do the surgery for 40,000 while he said it would have cost me 80,000. I was so grateful to them and to god that finally there was something good happening in my life.

It is only because of my breasts do these predators come after me. So I would wrap it with a binder 24/7. It used to be so hard to breathe, and I could never eat enough because it would hurt. I couldn’t even run without gasping for breath. My back used to hurt me so much too.

Also, we use a binder to cover our breasts. It used to be so tight for me that my skin would peel under my armpit and I would bleed from the wounds. At that time I couldn’t place my arms close to my body because if I did, those wounds would chafe and bleed again. But I didn’t have a choice but to cover it up because it is only because of our breasts do these predators come after us. So I would grit my teeth and bear the pain 24/7. But I used to wonder how amazing it would be to not have to wear a binder at all? It used to be so hard to breathe, and I could never eat enough because it would hurt. Whatever I ate would take so long to digest because of how tight my binder was. I couldn’t work effectively, couldn’t even run without gasping for breath. My back used to hurt me so much too. I am so glad I got the surgery because I don’t have to endure any of that anymore.

M: Could you talk about your love life? Have you fallen in love since you transitioned?

R: She was studying class X at that time. She would care for me so much, and I liked her a lot. She was the one who approached me and said she knows my story and wanted to be with me anyway. I asked her to think very hard about the fact that I can’t give her a baby. She was happy to be with me regardless. It all went well for about four years until she started talking about us in her college. Some of her friends started asking me questions that were very private in nature, and I refused to talk about this to anyone but the woman who I share my bed with. Many people fall in love with bodies, but I fell in love with her for her mind, her care for me, especially because my parents are dead, she really loved me. But her friends talked her out of this gradually by saying things like “this is not natural, he doesn’t have a penis, he can’t give you sexual gratification or a baby. He can’t protect you when you are both out.” She too avoided me after that, I myself bowed out of the relationship wishing her well. I was after her care and affection, but all that seemed a bit pretentious now. I told her she would find a great guy who can take care of her. That was the end of that.

*** end of interview***

They then go on to talk about her dreams and ambitions as a ‘transman’ and she thanks the host and the channel profusely for hearing the often neglected ‘transman’ stories. She says, she wants to become a bodybuilder!

R is just one of the many young women who have medically transitioned to ‘become a man’, and just like R, several women have fled womanhood due to similar experiences of sexual abuse and trauma. India is an extremely homophobic country where gay marriage is still not legal. I have talked extensively about the harms transgenderism causes young lesbian women, but my views are too ‘colonialist’ for the woke Indian stakeholders.

A developing country riddled with abject poverty, illiteracy, despicable healthcare, and a fascist government, makes for a dangerous society for women. Add to this the evils of the caste system, religious extremism, and racial prejudices. Instead of letting young women be themselves, there is a thriving industry of hate that gaslights girls into turning against themselves, feeding on their insecurities.

There is no scope for feelings in this debate. Sex is immutable; and no matter how much one advocates against it, it doesn’t alter the facts. I made Dysphoric to lay those facts down, those facts which genderists are actively trying to conceal. And I founded this ezine to bring to light the infiltration of gender ideology here in India.

My work puts women and girls above everything else, and encourages them to accept their bodies without the need for any alterations. I have taught myself to be proud of my sex class against all odds; I derive my strength and determination from the achievements of other women around the world. Despite all the abuse and misogyny I experienced growing up, there is so much to be proud about- by virtue of being female. If I could go back in time, I would hug my younger self—who wanted to be a boy—and tell her exactly that.

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