Effeminate—That’s the word. When everyone around me teased and called me a girl, my English teacher consoled, “You’re not a girl. You’re effeminate doesn’t mean you’re a girl. You’re special. One of a kind. Don’t listen to your friends.”

The word stuck with me. It was my first time hearing it. I didn’t understand what it meant. It sounded like a name you give to a sweet child or a cat you love. Effeminate. I wrote it in my book. Later it featured at the middle of my name. I got the spelling wrong but it still sounded the same so I rolled with it. When my friends came at me calling me “A girl-boy” or “Kojo besia” I armed myself with that word; “I’m not Kojo besia or a boy-girl. You people don’t know anything. I’m effeminate. It means special. Go and learn you blocked-headed children.”

As a child, they teased me. It wasn’t my fault. It was the way I was created. I didn’t even see it but everyone thought I behaved like a girl. When I went to SHS, my house prefect looked at me and asked, “Are you sure you were assigned to this house? You belong to the girl’s dormitory and not here.”

I had grown a little so I was beginning to learn how words hurt and also beginning to understand how different I was. I no longer told people I was effeminate. The word lost its shine—it lost it defensive mechanism I used when I was in Junior high. It sounded feminine in my ears so I dropped it and surrendered myself to the hurtful feelings of being called a girl.

I didn’t have a friend. In class, they joked about my ass. How big and rounded it looked. My French teacher stood in front of the class and called my ass out. “Look at you, all you do is walk around here shaking your ass. You don’t even understand je suis. I blame God. Look at me, a woman. I don’t have what you have. What was God thinking when he gave you all that?”

The class burst out laughing. I smiled. It wasn’t a deep smile. It was that kind of smile you do to cover up the hurtful feeling of having your ass called out.

I survived SHS but not without trouble. A senior who was very fond of me tried to rape me. In my head, he was a friend. Someone I could run to when the voices around me got harsh. In his head, he was in a relationship with me.

One evening when most students were at preps, he called me to his cubicle. He was a prefect. He started acting funny, touching me at places only my fingers could go. I said no. He held my shoulders and pinned me down. He hugged me from behind trying to loosen up his shots. I was stronger. I broke away and ran from the cubicle.

It broke me. I started getting scared anytime a guy wanted to be a friend. Even today, I meet men from the rainbow side of life who think I’m one of them. They wink at me. They speak to me with a soft tone. They throw their numbers at me and invite me to parties only people with rainbow and alphabets could attend. I’m old now so it doesn’t get to me. But years ago, I nearly committed suicide because of that.

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I tried my first relationship when I was in the university. Second year. The girl I first loved asked me, “Between the two of us, who’s the girl? You’re more girlish than I am so who’s going to be the girl in the relationship? Please, get yourself a man. You belong there.”

The second girl I loved also said something along the same lines. She was a very good friend of mine. She laughed at my jokes and we went places together but once I proposed, it was over for us. She said she saw me as her brother and later insinuated that she didn’t think I could love a girl.

I gave up on love until someone suggested to me that I behaved like a virgin that was why the women didn’t take me seriously.

To break my virginity, I went down the street and got a hookup girl. When I went naked, she looked at my body and said she envied my ass. “What was God thinking when he gave all this to a man? Look at me a woman. There’s nothing behind me.”

I became God’s mistake and I sort of enjoyed it. When people blamed him, I blamed him too. He said everything he created was perfect but I wasn’t. I was a laughing stock and it was his fault. That hookup girl did a lot of things with me. I became her constant customer, visiting her at least once a week. If she didn’t see me in a week, she would call me. If I told her I didn’t have money she would tell me, “Come and do it. I know when money comes, you will do me fine.”

I had a lot of moments with her for free but it didn’t change who I was or other people’s perception about me. I wanted to grow beards so badly that I started using Rubb on my face where hair was supposed to grow. I thought having beards would change something. Women didn’t have beards and that would be my saving grace. The beard didn’t come. I was still Kojo besia. A girl-boy or a boy-girl, affectionately called effeminate.

Love found me when I wasn’t looking. During graduation, a friend’s sister found me funny and decided to be friends with me. We exchanged numbers and the rest is history. We are in our third year. The next phase we are looking at is marriage but it’s not easy. Since day one, everyone has been against the relationship. Her friends and some people in her family. Her dad is so much against us he’s waiting for me in his house to say no to me. My girlfriend is aware and has told me not to worry as she deals with it.

A guy came my way recently. From the way he was running with things, I felt he had been sent to test my sexuality. If he were sent, it would be no other person than my girlfriend’s dad. This guy started being kind. He bought a phone for me and bought a watch too. The watch looked feminine. When I asked why he told me it suited my personality and made it clear he wanted us in a relationship. I gave him everything he bought and asked him not to contact me again. The way he appeared and how he eventually disappeared means a lot. He was sent.

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My only fear currently is losing my girlfriend. I trust she may stay strong but I’m also scared she may succumb to the pressure from her father. Very few people will choose love over family and I’m praying it doesn’t get to that. If the worst happens, my world will come crashing down and it won’t be a nice spectacle. I’ve suffered in love and in life not because I did something wrong but because of how God created me. How’s that my fault?

—Kumi

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