As i entered year 25 of my life, I was convinced I was going through a quarter life crisis. My world was falling apart, I felt hurt instead of happiness. I felt defeated, instead of empowered. I was ready to give up. I was ready to end everything, because I didn’t understand why my entire being was off balance. I couldn’t understand how I was giving so much love out to the universe, and not keeping any for myself. I couldn’t understand how with each passing day, I was losing a little more of me. I was changing rapidly, I was giving in to everything I was against. I was living with chains around soul and duct tape over my mouth. I was trapped…
What a time to be alive, what a time to be a part of the LGBTQI community. Incase you’re wondering why, there is a news channel in Pakistan, that just hired their country’s first transgender TV newsreader and her name is Marvia Malik. After three months of intense training, Marvia (a journalism graduate) , made her debut on Friday, on Kohenoor which is a private broadcaster.
I had just completed my sophomore year of high school and was on my way to spend the summer touring the United States and performing with a Drum Corp. What is Drum Corps? Drum Corps is essentially professional marching band, or, what I like to call marching band on cocaine. Drum Corps is incredibly competitive and only the most talented of brass musicians, percussionists, and colorguard members are chosen to spend a summer away from home practicing and competing in large venues across the U.S. It is, indeed as lame as it sounds, but it was the most profound experience of my life for a myriad of reasons. Mostly, because it is where I met my first love.
I never liked the phrase “coming out of the closet” until I realized it wasn’t the phrase I didn’t like…it was having to do it. I realized I was in the closet when I was about thirteen years old. It was a closet covered in hate, in fear and in shame. Hate for not understanding why this was happening to me when half of society said it was wrong. Fear for not knowing how to say it and what would happen once I said it. Shame for wanting to be myself going against hate and fear. Nevertheless, I found comfort when I connected my closet to Wi-Fi and I wasn’t so alone.
My name is Stitch. When I was in the 6th grade I was attracted to females (me being biologically a female). It was before being bi was even a little bit acceptable. I did not know that being attracted to females was “wrong” to society, I thought my crushes were what was considered normal to usual middle school society.
I view the world through a prism of deprivations and abuses. It’s a perineal outsider’s mentality. Admittedly, this is a distorted way to see things but that’s how this old telescope was made. When I was seven a man plucked me off the street and shoved me into his car, then drove me to a remote place and sexually assaulted me. He left me for dead on the side of the road.
When I have to remember my dad my mind stops at the local bus station on a hot humid night in my hometown. I remember my dad getting on a bus and setting off for the Capital of Colombia. He was leaving us, for good. I was there with my grandmother (his mother) Romelia, hoping he wouldn´t leave without me. Squeezing my hands and face against a huge window glass that was keeping me from going with him.