< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.
When you deny your own identity in an attempt to live the “life of a normal woman,” you may end up putting yourself through a kind of self-imposed conversion therapy.
People told me that I always behaved “too sweet, artificial, fake” — that was the result of trying to play an imposed role. A smile on my face, makeup, shoes several sizes too small, short skirts, and unbearable pain inside — all of it just to find a “future father for my future children.” All for the sake of living by a standard script: marriage, children, death.
A childhood with a tyrannical stepfather who beat my mother in front of me and constantly humiliated me left deep scars. My psyche couldn’t remain unaffected: it felt like being a woman was dangerous, and being myself was simply impossible.
My first partner seemed better than my stepfather, so for a long time, I couldn’t recognize the violence from him. I didn’t understand my own boundaries — or even that I had a right to my own body at all. So the fact that he always demanded sex, even when I was in the hospital after a complex brain tumor removal surgery, seemed normal.
On the one hand, he supported me: he traveled with me to the neurosurgery institute, stayed by my side during difficult moments, and encouraged my mother. On the other hand, as soon as we were alone in the hospital room, he would immediately start touching me in intimate ways and pressure me to “have sex as soon as possible.”
It was terrifying and painful: my head felt like it was splitting apart, I had long bandages in my nose, catheters in my arms, and every movement felt like an electric shock. But on my face — even if crooked — there was still a smile. I found myself apologizing for not being able to have sex at that moment, because in my mind, sex in a relationship equaled obligation.
A month after the surgery, that same partner raped me. At the time, I didn’t understand that it was violence; it felt like giving consent once meant a permanent obligation, and that my “no” in that moment could be ignored. But that is not true.
Another partner beat me and blackmailed me, threatening to publish photos of me in underwear. He hacked my social media accounts, deleted my posts, and spread false rumors about me. A third psychologically abused me: he suggested filming intimate videos with me, while already having videos of sex with his ex saved on his phone and showing them to others. He cheated on me. I felt like I was losing my mind and that everything happening to me was entirely my fault.
Those relationships were never about love — they were about survival in a cisheterosexual world where, if you are labeled a woman, your fate is to suffer. They made me hate my own body, left me with multiple traumas, an eating disorder, and complex PTSD. All my attempts to “fit into the rules” only brought pain and danger.
Trying to be “like everyone else” does not save you — it destroys you.
Understanding yourself, defining yourself as you truly feel, living for yourself, setting your own boundaries, and recognizing your needs — these are not luxuries. They are necessary for survival and for real happiness.
Sai, he/him; story shared in 2025 as part of the campaign “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence.”