An Open Letter To Ayan

Hi kiddo,
I’m Ayana. I know you’ve liked that name, somewhere within, but you could never talk about it to anyone, am I right? Heh.

It’s 2025 here, and I know it’s somewhere between 2006-2010 there. My love, don’t be surprised. We’re one magical being split only by the wise flow of time.
Don’t believe me? Well, how is that new acoustic guitar Mom bought for you when you all went to Connaught Place? Hard to play isn’t it?
Heh. I know things. I’m magical, but so are you! I’m here, alive and thriving because of you. I love you, my child.

I want to tell you how grateful I am that you are holding on right now. I sense the darkness you carry, the one you feel ashamed about, the darkness that blinds you and hurts everywhere in your body. My little child, this was never your burden to bear! You’re not a “child of sin” as you painfully lament, my dear, because sin was done upon you.
This may not be clear to you right now, but you are not at fault. I carry that same suffering, along with you, and it is my life’s work to heal, for you and for me. I had to say this first, because I know the breathlessness your body is imprisoned by. I could feel your pain in my flesh and bones right now as well.
I love you, my child.

You are a wise, sensitive being, Ayan, and it shows. The hunger you have for learning, may it be through words or through experiences, it never went away. Thank God, I am what I am because of you, my child.

In other news, we can breathe easier now! I have accepted us wholly, and I’m the woman you always wanted to be. Transgender is the word, my dear, the word kids in class use as a slur, that is who we are! No shame in it, in fact it is exactly the superpower you’ve always wanted; to be able to be a girl from boy! Well, as far as I am concerned, you were always that little girl who survives despite the whole world telling you that you’re something else. I am hoping that you are enjoying the dresses and the makeup and the recognition I got for you now. I am doing this all for us, our joy and our freedom, my child.

Don’t worry. You don’t have to go to church right now. I know you don’t feel okay about it. Your love for God never went away, even if you feel betrayed right now, innocent soul of mine. You have divinity within you. I carry the suffering you had to bear, but I promise you this : I will keep on healing till this mortal body we share sheds away. You never let go of that hope either, and nor will I, my child.

Study; the way you want to, not the way it’s being forced upon you by school. Pray; in your own, silent ways, not the ways people claim to be correct. Love, as freely as you can, not the way you were loved by the people you trusted the most. And live, my child, the way you want to, playing your guitar, writing your poems, reading your history books, all while wearing the cutest dresses and punk perfumes and metal makeup. My child, I will always, always love you, and protect you forever.

Yours Queerly

Ayana