My mother still cooks for me. She still ties my phra khon (monk’s string) on my wrist for luck. But she has never once said the words: "I see you, daughter." She says, "My son is very artistic." She says, "Pam is just... playful."
When you are born wrong according to every map, you learn to draw your own. You learn that beauty is not symmetry. Beauty is the bravery to walk into a market at noon, in full makeup, knowing that every single eye is a weapon, and choosing to walk straight anyway. ladyboy pam
That conditional love is a slow poison. It is a room with four walls, but no door. My mother still cooks for me
So why am I writing this? To make you sad? No. playful
I have been beaten. I have been spat on. I have been called a "sin" by monks and a "sickness" by doctors.
We are called kathoey in Thai. A third gender. A space between. But there is nothing soft about that "between." It is a razor’s edge.