Living As An Intersex!!!
I was born on September 7th, 1997, it was a very sunny day and the women who helped my mom deliver were dripping with sweat. My father said that there were seven women and all seven of them labored for so long that the room began to stink from blood and sweat. I was a difficult child, my mother’s teeth chewed through the piece of cloth she was gagged with before I could bring out my shoulder.
After my birth, I was a loud child, my cries of dismay alerting everyone in the environment that a baby had been born. Few minutes after my birth I was a shocking child, the women looked in between my legs.
“What is this?” Mama Uchendu asked. She was my mother’s aunt who lived in Enugu at the time. She was older than my grandmother and more knowledgeable about the birthing process. All the women came closer to see for themselves. Between my legs laid a big surprise for my parents. I had both a penis and a vagina.
The usual shouts of “it is a boy!” “Na girl you born” were absent. My parents and the women of my extended family were dumbfounded. They cleaned me up and dumped me on my mother’s bosom, retreating to the far side of the room to whisper among each other. My mother looked at me, at the thing between my legs and cried. There were really no words to express her fear and confusion.
“So this is how it is. Your first child and God couldn’t make up his mind” my grandmother said bitterly.
The women left soon after, most of them too ashamed to stay. They were all members of my family and for all its fault ours was tight-knit and loyal. My mother didn’t have to fear tongues wagging about her misfortune, our abominable secret was safe with them.
***
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While I grew up, I cannot really say things were hard for me. I lived an okay life, besides what right did I have to complain? I have two legs and two arms and well two genitalia. Some people are born without. Lucky me huh? I daily pondered about my life, asking myself why I had turned out the way I was. Being intersexual filled me with some sort of rage and my general attitude was f*ck me, f*ck God and everyone else. But that was towards the end, before that, I was just a little girl.
“How’s it going to feel mommy?” I asked my mother as we drove down to the hospital. She had answered this particular question many times but I was scared and nervous and I couldn’t stop asking.
“It will be fine, Mirabel sit down,” she said, when I got up again, it was to put my head out the window. I was eleven years old and the doctors had confirmed I was more female than male so I would be having my male genitalia removed. My mother was skeptical at first. The night my father told her, they had a big fight, but she got used to the idea and later got some hope from it.
As for me, I couldn’t care less. I was homeschooled and my parents didn’t make it seem like I was strange. My little brother was five and he didn’t know because we didn’t bath together at any time in his life. I never bathed with anyone because my mother would always say “don’t ever let anyone see in between your legs”
“Come Mira,” she called me one day. I walked close to her. I was wearing a skirt, a blue skirt that had white flowers on it. I still remember vividly. She reached out her hand suddenly and attempted to open my skirt. There was a scuffle and soon I was curled on the floor and chanting “no no no”
My brain had shut down at the moment when she reached out to open my secret. It happened too fast for me to process the fact that she was my mother and aware of my situation.
“Mira get up. Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there” she said. I got up and looked at her, she was smiling but I felt I needed an apology. In those days when I knew nothing about mental health and trauma all I knew was that the experience had been awful and I didn’t want a repeat.
***
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Male/female two words with definitions both in the dictionary and in the outside world. The luxury of being able to fit in a box, to have a description that fits you. I am intersex, confusion embodied. A lot of people cry that they have been unable to “find themselves” what do you do when you’re neither male or female?
When my penis was removed, I began to have more girlie features but I looked more like a dyke than a woman. I was particularly scared of relationships and letting someone what I was. I was twenty-two when I met Amos, he was a writer and studying Chemistry at the University of Benin.
“Wait, let me help you get that” I heard behind me as I struggled to get the item on the top shelf. Intersex or not, I wasn’t a tall person and the item was so high up. I shifted to the side and his hand flew over my head and caught the pack. I was standing under him, with my head almost resting on his chest. He smelled so fresh and nice that my eyes widened. I was also shocked at how my body tingled at our proximity.
It was over too quickly and I turned to thank him. He was a handsome man. Yellow pawpaw with a soft black beard framing his face. It quickly occurred to me that he was Cinderella and I was the beast.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling in an attempt to look marginally attractive.
“My pleasure. Umm, can I ask you something?” He asked, taking hold of my trolley and wheeling it through the aisles. I got seriously weak-kneed, a complete gentleman!
“Yes sure,” I said, anything he wanted I was ready to give in that moment. No man had ever been that kind to me.
“Can I have your number?” He asked, giving a cute sheepish smile.
“Give me your phone” I commanded. He laughed at my eagerness and handed his phone over to me.
We dated for eight months and our relationship was not less than perfect. I wasn’t surprised when Amos proposed to me one day in front of his friends.
“My sweet Baby. I love you with all my heart and I can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?”
Of course, I said yes. I too deserved to be happy right? I said yes and I told my mother I was engaged. She asked me to bring Amos to see her ASAP and I did. My mother fell in love with him too, who wouldn’t? He was handsome, intelligent, and well mannered. A week after that, I and Amos sat in his car on the way to meet his family. I was beyond nervous.
“Relax babe,” he said. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “It’ll be okay.”
“I’m just scared,” I said, it was true. There was this feeling of foreboding low in my belly.
He laughed “No one will bite your nose okay?” I smiled at him. It was true, why was I so scared?
When we got to his house, his mother welcomed him in the same manner the prodigal son in the bible was welcomed. When she was done holding on to him and rubbing his beard she finally noticed me.
“And who is this your friend?” She asked.
“This is Mirabel, my girlfriend,” Amos said, holding my hand. I bent my knees as low as I could.
“Good evening, Mummy” I greeted with my best smile.
“Good evening, my dear” she replied and turned her back on us. We followed her into the house.
“Mirabel, can I speak with you for a moment?” Amos’ mother asked after we had dinner. I jumped from my chair, almost spilling my water. Amos’ father smiled at my eagerness. He was a tall dark man and looked nothing like Amos who was a spitting image of his mother.
“You said you’re done with school,” Amos’ mother asked when we were alone in her room. There was a pile of clothes on her bed that she was supposed to be folding but she just kept squeezing and squeezing them.
“Yes ma, I graduated a year ago” I replied.
“Where did you meet my son?” She asked the classic mother question I had been waiting for. I smiled, I could get comfortable, she just wanted to know me more.
“At a supermarket Ma,” I said.
“What did he see in you? A supermarket is usually crowded, there were girls there, what did he see in you?” She asked.
“I don’t understand you, ma,” I said, I was confused. What was she saying? I felt like she had slapped my face and spat on me.
“You are intersex aren’t you?” she asked. My face tightened as shocked tears threatened to fall. How did she know?
“Yes ma,” I said, “but I have had a bottom surgery”
She held up her hand to shut me up “You are neither a man or a woman. My son needs a woman so please stay away from him. You can leave” she said, indicating the door. I got up, too hurt, and confused to speak. Amos stood outside the door. He must have listened to our conversation because he was crying too. I collapsed in his arms and wept.
***
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One month later I was on the bus to Lagos with my few belongings, the no man’s land was beckoning to me. I would be staying with a lady I met on twitter who needed a roommate. She stayed at Ikorodu and her name was Temi. I was just as eager to see her as I was to do anything these days. Lie down and disappear was the mantra going through my head every day.
I envy people who can go through heartbreak and be able to say “It is okay. I’ll get someone else” that’s a luxury I could not afford. I knew I would not be getting anyone else and because of that, when Amos chose his mom over me the pain was immense. Who else was going to love me like that? I found myself staring at my body many times in the mirror. It was a depressing sight.
I do no exercises, yet the muscles on my arms and belly are as pronounced as a guy’s. I’ve got veins on my hand and although my face is not ugly, I still look Manish. Being intersex was the sin Amos’ mother chased me out of the house for. It was also the same sin that labeled me an abomination child and sentenced me to homeschool.
I do not blame my mother for being socially inept now, having no friends anywhere. I had considered my aloneness serious when I realized I wanted to escape and had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. For eight hours I thought about Amos and my family. I wept inside of me to my heart’s content because I knew I had to forget and start a new life.
“Mirraaa!” Temi squealed when she met me at the door. She was a slim girl with very wide hip and large boobs. My eyes nearly popped from looking and my bones nearly popped with the way she threw herself at me. I laughed as we disentangled from each other, my bag lying face down on the floor after being kicked to the side.
“Hi,” I said finally. That was so not what I wanted to say but my socially inept self would continue to disgrace me.
“Welcome home Mira. Don’t forget to bring your bag in” she said giggling. I followed her into the house, it was a spacious Three bedroom flat and all the walls were painted white. Two of the rooms were for living in and one had been converted to a laundry room.
She led me to my room and showed me the general kitchen. With time, I got to know Temi as a very jovial girl who had none of the usual girly bullshit. We connected on many intellectual levels and that was surprising because I had earlier tagged her a “bimbo”
The day her Ex-boyfriend came to harass her was the beginning of the end. I was washing clothes in the laundry room when I heard Temi shouting at someone.
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“Leave my house right now” she shouted. I stood up from the stool I was sitting on, Temi was not one to shout. I rushed into the sitting room and saw him raise his hand to hit her. Before we all knew it, I was standing between both of them, fuming with righteous anger.
“Don’t you dare!” I said, my voice sounded dangerous even to me. I was so caught up that I didn’t realize I was wearing just a bra and a pair of panties until her Ex’s eyes dropped from mine. When he saw my state of undress, he turned away. I rolled my eyes in disgust. Such double standards. He left not long after.
I and Temi’s relationship became stronger after that incident. I went more into her room. That was not the only thing that changed, after the incident, it was as though the protective instinct I had felt towards her had sparked some cords inside me. To cut the long story short, I began to feel a burning attraction towards my housemate.
Any time she came to my room with those short shorts that left very little to the imagination it would drive me crazy. I would fantasize about her all day and all night. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I stylishly began to complain about back pain and talk about how I would kill for a massage.
We were cooking in the kitchen. She was wearing a red pant and a small shimmy this time.
“This your back you’ve been complaining about. Hmm,” she said.
“What?” I asked her. In my mind I was jumping for joy. 1/10
“Are you asking me? What do you plan to do about it? Because I am tired of hearing you complain” she said.
“Oya help me massage it na,” I said. To my shock and amazement, Temi turned to me and said “okay”.
That was how we began to massage each other often. See me, I went as far as watching massage videos online just so I could give her different styles every time she asked. I looked forward to touching her and feeling her melt like butter under my hands.
Temi. Temi. She was a nice girl really, and didn’t do anything wrong. I was massaging her back and she was moaning out her pleasure but the sound was doing things to me. I let my hands move over the curve of her shoulders. I moved tentatively lower, I wanted to touch her breasts and I did. My hands cupping the sides that bulged out from under her. Temi’s eyes flew open but she must have seen something in my eyes when she looked at me that made her close her eyes and let me have my way. The rest is history.
I looked at the deaconess as she wiped her eyes with a small towel she had fetched from her bag. I shook my head, somehow she was getting it all wrong if she thought I was telling her my story so she could pity me.
“Do you think it is fair?” I asked her. She shook her head, unable to speak.
The men that caught us did so only because they had been spying on us for weeks. Yet nobody talked about that. After all, two lesbians caught having sex is a juicer story that that of three young men spying at two young ladies. I tried to defend myself, I told them I’m not fully a woman. Everyone laughed at me. The police asked if my documents said I was female and I said yes.
It’s been ten years now and I am yet to regain my freedom. What am I saying? Four years to go. What I want is not freedom, it is an identity. Yet you come to me preaching Jesus. You tell me I will be saved if I believe in Jesus. Do you know how many years I have lain awake asking God why?
Why wasn’t he sure when he made me? Of what use am I to the world when I am neither a man or a woman? Who do I blame for all these feelings running through my being? Other nights when I lay awake, I am thinking of Amos and Temi. Somehow, they both had to suffer because of me. Temi was given a lighter sentence on the grounds that I was the one who seduced her. I was happy for her.
Looks at me, for once as a human being and not a sinner. Do you like what you see? I asked her. She sniffed, shook her head, and said: “I’m so sorry”. I wanted to thank her but I couldn’t, you all should be sorry.
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