Hijras are a sexual minority that is visible, and yet we are treated as the invisibles. I believe I was never invisible. I thought, "I'm the face in the crowd, not the crowd."

We, hijras, are not hypocrites. We live our sexuality openly, being truthful to our souls and our bodies. Science and doctors assigned something else to us when we were born - which they didn't have the authority to - but we choose what we are and we are very truthful about it.

I learned dancing because I loved dancing. It took away the pain, it took away everything, I was happy when I was dancing. I got a lot of respect when I was dancing: people respected my art, they didn't only respect my body.

I was recently chief guest at a function, and one of the boys who had exploited me in the childhood was there. He could not even look at me, but I was kind to him. I have not forgiven, but I believe that what you do to me is your karma and what I do to you is my karma. What is gone is gone. I have lived it, I have overpowered it. I don't carry any baggage with me. It's done, it's finished, it's over. You can't change the past, but you can make the future much more beautiful.

I was a sick child, I was scared, and honestly speaking, I never thought about why I didn't tell anyone about my abuse. Abuse victims don't have all the answers, and I never thought it was abuse. My generation was totally different. Now a small child knows many things, much more than what we knew. When I understood it was not right, it was much later.

Being called gay is worse than transgender. I remember when I started fighting way back in 1999 for hijas' rights, and I said the state doesn't have the right to use my gender to club me into "gay." If I say I am not a man then who are you to question it? Being called gay or a man really upsets me.

When somebody asks me, "Who are you?" I tell them, "I am the oldest ethnic transgender community in the world, which has its own culture and own religious beliefs." And we are in four countries in South Asia: India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the Terai region of Nepal. What binds us hijras together is the same pain that has gone through our lives, which is much thicker than blood. That's why in our community we don't have old-age homes. Our guru may be horrible, but at the same time, we take care of the guru till the last breath.