Lifestyle and Health


For thirty years, I lived as a woman. But I was a man. I should have known this earlier, maybe, my marriage would have survived, or maybe, I wouldn’t have gotten married in the first place. But all this happened. I walked down the aisle at twenty four. My mother held my left hand and my father held my right hand. I was dressed in white, like all brides. I had no veil though. My heels were golden; it was nice being so tall. The kiss; it made me blush, my parents were looking. Ten the day ended and the honeymoon came and went. Before my wedding, I grew. I went to an all girl’s school. I shared a bed with a friend in first form. I sat with my legs pressed together mostly, or crossed sometime. I always squatted to urinate like a proper girl. I wrote letters to boys, fellow boys, I received letters from boys. I played with girls, I played girly games. I should have suspected that I wasn’t a girl at thirteen. I should have known these things earlier, I didn’t know. Even when I never got periods, I didn’t worry. No one told me that all girls must get periods. My chest was flat; no one thought it to be abnormal because my mother’s was flatter. So for those years I wore panties when I should have won boxers. I spent my life with women, learnt how to cook, cooked, fed babies, and carried them on my back just like a woman. For thirty years, I worried about the length of my hair, wasted money in salons while I was meant to shave, to save the fortune I had spent on braid spray, hair food, hair treatment, hair mayonnaise and all that crap.
I would have died a woman but for my husband. Now I will die a man, miserably. I will not kill myself though I prefer dying than living at this moment. I wonder how all this happened, but Dr Ngatia says these things happen. I am yet to understand whatever I am suffering from but he says I was meant to be a man. He says they got testicles in my abdomen. The testicles mean that I am a man. But I have been raised as a girl because I have female external genitalia. I recently looked at myself down there; I look like the way girls should look. Dr Ngatia says I have a blind ending vagina, and that my clitoris I longer than usual, he is the doctor, he is the one who knows these things, I can’t argue with him. Kamau, my husband sent me to the fertility clinic, he was being an African man. African men believe that it is only the women who can be infertile. We have been waiting to have a baby for six years. We hoped we prayed, tried herbs, then went to the doctor; the doctor has confirmed that it is impossible. Some things are actually impossible, huh.
So if my mother had been keener, I would have become Mwangi not Waitherero. Mwangi would have then grown into a fine young man, perhaps I would be a seminarian, or maybe a father with children and a wife. I am now a wife with no children. A man with a girl’s name, a man living with a man yet none of them is a homosexual. A man who just discovered he isn’t a woman, whose hair is plaited, whose shoe rack is full of heels, whose undergarments are matching bras and panties when in the first place he shouldn’t own bras. Funny I grew up without noticing  my masculinity, without the privilege of being served, being massaged, being served dinner. Unfair world

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6 years ago

Thanks Doc for bringing this into light.
True. These things happen.
And lemme say I love the write-up

6 years ago
Reply to  bonfacesagini

thanks Sagini

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