An Open Letter : My Trans journey beyond binary

As you grapple with understanding transness, turning it over in conversations, policies, and quiet moments of curiosity, I want to share my story with you—not as a manifesto, but as a heartbeat. I am trans because I feel it, because I know it, because my soul hums a truth that doesn’t fit neatly into the boxes you’ve drawn. My journey isn’t about swinging between right and wrong, male or female, but about living in the vast, vibrant space beyond those lines. Let me tell you what that feels like.

I was born with male genitalia, raised in a world that handed me a script of traditional roles and expectations tied to sex and gender. But even as a child, I was writing a different story. My relatives, with a mix of affection and teasing, would call me by the names of Bollywood’s iconic female leads—think Madhuri Dixit’s radiant charm or Kareena Kapoor’s fearless Geet from Jab We Met. I remember the little boy I was, sneaking into my mother’s room, draping her sarees around my small frame, clipping on her heavy earrings, and smearing her lipstick across my face, just like the child in Bombay Talkies who danced in his mother’s clothes. Those moments weren’t just play; they were my heart whispering who I could be. They were the first threads of a tapestry I’m still weaving.

Growing up, I felt the weight of the world’s gaze, its need to decode and define. My body, with its scars, its hair, its refusal to fit a polished mold, became a canvas of questions. Do I change it? Do I sculpt it to match some ideal? For now, I’ve chosen to let it be. I look at the hair on my arms, the marks on my skin, and I say, “You are enough.” I don’t feel the need for laser treatments or surgeries—not out of fear or indecision, but because my body is not the whole of me. My soul and mind are where my identity lives, and they are gloriously untethered. Some days, I feel like a man. Others, a woman. Most days, I’m neither—just a person, fluid and free, slipping through the cracks of the binary like water through stones.

I see others making bold choices to transition, reshaping their bodies to align with their truths, and my heart swells with joy for them. Their courage is a light in the world, and I celebrate every step they take toward themselves. But my path is different, at least for now. I am someone who swings, who aligns with different energies on different days, who sometimes detaches entirely from the idea of gender. It’s not confusion—it’s clarity. It’s the freedom to exist as a mosaic, not a monolith.

This letter isn’t a demand for you to understand me perfectly. It’s an invitation to see me, to feel the human behind the words. I am trans not because of what my body looks like or what society expects, but because I am a living, breathing story—one that dances beyond the edges of your definitions. And in that dance, I am finding my way home.

Yours Queerly

Prasant Meera