She Called Me 'Woman'

'Oh jeez, I am beautiful! Even without make-up!'

Content note: sexual violence, physical violence, forced medical treatment, depression

I identify as a human being first. If anybody pushes, I say, 'Fine, I am a woman, a lady.' There was a time when someone said, 'Oh you are a trans woman.' I said, 'No, I am not a trans woman, I am a woman.' And then there was a time when someone was like, 'A trans woman is a woman, but to me, whatever name you call it, a trans woman is a man.' Hello! It is not just about your genitalia, please. But let me start from the beginning.

I remember living as a boy. It was fun initially because I was effeminate. I was 5 or 6 and my parents didn't seem to care that I loved playing with female things. I loved watching movies that included ladies' stuff and all those things ladies love to do. They were just there but I loved doing them. Then my father, a military man, left us – left me – when I was 9. My mum became a single parent to me and my two brothers, and life got really tough till I graduated from school.

In my teenage years, I was feminine. My trousers were unisex. I was more on the female side. I was always swaying when I walked, swinging my waist with reckless abandon because I didn't care what people said and because my mum showed me love and didn't seem to care either. I only started being concerned when she did, when it seemed as if there were external factors from her place of work, from society, saying, Why is your son like this? Why is your son like that? There was a time she would brush them all aside but then they started playing the religious card and all of a sudden it got to her. And she started giving it back to me.

Around that time, my younger brothers became huge, masculine, bearded men with deep voices. I, the first child, the first boy, was all feminine and gracious and my voice changed too. I sang in the choir and my voice went to sopralto, a higher key. When one of my brothers who used to sing that high key became baritone/tenor, all the questions started coming out. What is going on? I would ask myself the same thing. Somewhere along the line, my body and I went through different processes. At the age of 16, I started battling with depression. Even though I knew I was attracted to men, I had not acted on that because we had been taught that homosexuality was a sin. I was still trying to figure myself out.

I was always wishing. I wished I came out as a lady, oh I wished. I wished I was a lady, I wished I was a lady, I wished I was a lady! You know all these kinds of wishes. I wished, I wished, I wished I was a lady. And at times, I would look into the mirror and try to accentuate my looks, then realise, Oh jeez, I am beautiful! Even without make-up!

One day in 2001, while I was in school, a guy walked up to me with an old newspaper. He said, 'Read it. It is for you,' and walked away. This person had never spoken to me before. I picked up the newspaper and what did I see? A man had changed his sex to female. I looked at the date: 1984. And I was like, is what I have been wishing for real? I read through it with excitement, and there was even a picture. I was shocked! As of then, my quest for knowledge began. I went back to the guy who'd given me the paper and he said I should go do my research. I did, and I realised that anything is possible. No more wishful thinking followed by depression because you think it's impossible. One day while doing research, I saw a book called Middlesex on Oprah. It's about a trans woman and I was like, Wow, so this is actually real. I continued googling.

I was fighting with external pressure and at the same time, I was trying to know who I was. What was happening with me? Was I gay or was I a woman? I was afraid of acting on my sexual impulses because I knew I was attracted to men. I was trying to know myself and get through the confusion and conflict. My mind was going, No I am not gay, I am a lady ... No, you are gay ... uh uh, how else? And I thought my case might be more than that, that there must be something else. But at that point, I was always trying to know, trying to understand, trying to find me.

I came out to my mum when I was twenty years old. I just walked up to her in the room and said 'Mum, I think I want to have a sex change. Not think. I know I want to. I am more like a lady and this is who I am.' I started talking and talking and talking.

And she said, 'I think it is a demon speaking through you.' She tried to change my mind and made my brothers beat me up on the spot. I will never forget that day because it was just before my birthday. I didn't even have to come out to my brothers. She told them. It was a circle. They brought me there and she was screaming 'This is what your brother said o, haaay.' My brother was like, 'Really? No!' They were 18 and 16 at that point. They called me all sorts of names: 'You are a disgrace to us ... You are urgh ... You are this, you are that.'

The once beautiful mum who was my angel became my demon and my brothers became her bulldogs, her emissaries. They had grown bigger than me, over six feet tall and quite macho. If you looked at them, you would quiver at the sight. There was no day they didn't beat me, their first-born 'brother'.

I became less and less comfortable at home. When I wanted to clear my head, I would go to school and hear things like 'obirin-asuko', a Yoruba term that means boy-girl. Or 'obirin-okurin'; those kinds of terms. And they were used in a friendly way. So to me, it seemed as if the people at school were the ones who were okay, treating me like I was okay. But when I got home, I would only get a fight from my family.

When I entered university, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. It wasn't a nice environment but at least it made me mingle with people. People who seemed to appreciate me as a person. I met people who, if they saw you being harassed, would say, 'Hey, stop am.' These people didn't come up to you and say, 'Let's be friends.' But anytime they had the opportunity to defend you, they would defend you and walk away.

I was...