Growing: Without labels
IR-Is
Since I can remember, simply existing has been a constant challenge. My reality is a concept that other people understand from multiple interlinked identities—female, afro-descendant, immigrant—and I’ve been forced to constantly fight for the right to reclaim my humanity and to just be. Each and every one of these names have been a heavy yoke on me, constraining my ability to blossom and forcing me to try to plead innocence in a world that condemned me from the very beginning.
As an intersex person, my body and my integrity have been objects of ruthless examination. I was submitted to “corrective” surgeries that tried to change my anatomy to the standard gender binary during all of my childhood, which left physical and emotional scars that still hurt deep down in my heart. Growing up knowing that my body is seen as a mistake, something that needs to be “fixed”, was the main thing that fuelled my fight to reclaim my integrity and my right to exist.
On top of that, my existence as a racialised woman in a society that gives privilege only to the white and to the masculine has meant carrying the burden of multiple stereotypes and misconceptions that try to strip me of my humanity. I’ve been exoticised, hyper-sexualised and reduced to mere constructs that deny my individuality. Wandering this world under the perception of “the other”, the intruder, has demanded unbreakable strength to keep my dignity untouched in front of the accusatory looks and hurtful remarks that were always coming down like an avalanche. And yet, despite the challenges, I had to face my new reality. Ripped out from my motherland by the violence and persecution and forced into a trip full of dangers and uncertainties, I have always been treated like a burden, like an outcast that was looking for privileges that weren’t meant for her. The impossibility to find a decent job and have a stable life became the constant reminder of my vulnerability and the precariousness that defined my entire being, leaving me on the margins of a society that refused to take me in.
“You are black, don’t wear make-up, don’t dress up, don’t dress nice, don’t talk, don’t show us what you have studied. You are intersexed. I can’t help you, we can’t do anything for you, you have nothing, you have it all, go, no, not here, out, no, not there either, eat from the floor, do as I say, bow your head, bow, bow…”
I keep getting ripped from my autonomy and my right to choose over my own body. My actual necessities and experiences are relegated in favour of an agenda that only tries to fit me inside binary categories.
And if you put being a black woman on top of that, the load becomes even heavier. My skin colour, my Caribbean descent, my physical features and my body converge into the focus of a stigma that put the label of “undesirable” on me, that sees me as someone that doesn’t belong, that “should go back to her country” or that should be content with whatever happens to her. Not even being in the “here and now” I’m able to escape the prejudice and discrimination that marked my reality since the first day.
I found myself being relegated to the borders, to the most hazardous and vulnerable spaces. My intersexual being and my race became unbreakable strongholds between me and a decent life, between me and my dreams and aspirations. I am seen as “the other”, the intruder that has to be happy with the crumbs that society wishes to throw at her. My physical and emotional pain, product of a childhood full of medical violence and an adulthood marked by the recurrent attempts to survive are relegated to a second plane in favour of a supposed “equality” that does nothing but continue my condition of being disposable.
And yet, I refuse to accept this destiny. My existence on its own is an act of resistance, a challenge to the system that insists on denying me my humanity. I hold onto my dignity and my hopes, turning myself into a voice that refuses to be silenced. I grow from my determination and from my conviction in the fact that I deserve to live in this world. And through this growing I also find the strength to keep fighting, to keep drawing a path that, even though is devious, I know will lead to a horizon full of equality and inclusion.
I’ve learned to embrace the complexity of me, to find strength where everyone else sees weakness. I’ve discovered that my intersexuality is not a condition but a legitimate way of being alive, an expression of human diversity that deserves to be cherished. I’ve claimed my right to be a woman in my own terms without submitting to the standards imposed by a society that is always judging and rejecting me.
And I’ve hardened my resistance against all form of stereotyping or objectifying. My voice rises up like a sworn statement of my ability to blossom even in the toughest of conditions, a scream that refuses to be shut down or erased. Growing up in these circumstances forged me into an unsparing fighter, a survivor that holds onto her own worthiness and hopefulness even when this world seems determined to disclaim her right to exist.
I know that my fight is not only mine but it also belongs to those who, like me, have been displaced to the borders. Even though my body has been the object of so much scrutiny and manipulation, even though my skin has been the reason for stigma and rejection, my spirit remains intact. With a braveness forged from adversity, I stand in front of the whole world and raise my voice to demand the licence I have over who I am with no shame or fear. Because intersexuality is not an identity or a gender, it is a natural biological variation that deserves to be celebrated and respected.
And even in the middle of this battle I yearn for a future where my existence is not something to fuss about or to reject, but to accept and value. I dream of the day I’ll walk freely and with no fear, not having to justify myself or hide who I am. And in this way, with every step I take, with every story I share, my intersexual body blossoms as an act of stubborn resilience, defying the limits of what society thinks is “normal”. Growing up in a world that insists on keeping us small is, in itself, a subversive act, is to take the reins of our own narratives and refashion the concept of humanity. I refuse to accept the labels, the diagnostics, the attempts to define me. I’m much more than that. I’m a constellation of possibilities, a symphony of variations, a canvas in constant evolution. By growing I amplify my existence and I turn into a beacon of hope to those who, like me, dare to defy the conventions and demand their rights to fully live as they are.
This piece is a translation of the Spanish text – Crecer: Sin etiquetas.