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.

According to the norms of the hijras community, it's not necessary that one be castrated. Castration is your choice. If you do it, testosterone doesn't build up, femininity comes, but I have always said that castration is not the right way. A person should go for complete sexual reassignment surgery, hormone therapy, psychological counseling.

Hijras earn a living by egging, sex work, badhai or blessing. There are now transgenders in social work, the fashion industry, who have PhDs. I say, "Study, study, study." You need not wear a sari, and even our ancestors said you need not wear feminine attire to be part of the third gender. When I started bar dancing, nobody else was doing it. When I joined the social sector in 1999, there were no nonprofit organizations working for the rights of hijras in India. But I had to do it, I wanted my dignity.

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.

People believe that if a hijra curses you, bad things will happen. That God Ram blessed hijras with this power, that our blessings and curses will come true. People give us money because they are scared of our curse. Now that's the only way hijras can survive - by saying, "Give me money, otherwise I'll curse you." That clap, which scares people, has become our identity. In a way, you use myths and misconceptions for your own survival.

I was first sexually exploited when I was seven, by a distant cousin at a family wedding. Even after that I was routinely molested by older cousins and their friends. See, my innocence was taken away and I became mature at one bloody incident. I believe I never had a childhood. I grew up as an elderly person. And that's what my femininity brought upon me. Of course, in a patriarchal society, hijras' bodies are thought of as toys.

I try to educate people. I've told the hijra community that it's not about getting breasts or having sexual reassignment surgery. First we need our rights. We need our dignity. We need inclusion in every bloody policy for the marginalized. We need education. We need dignified shelter. There are many like me who are able to earn without begging. But the fact is that before even coming into the social sector, I was running a dance class, and before that I was a model coordinator. I didn't want to beg, or do sex work, or sell myself.