Malika

I am a transgender and I can understand what she would have felt when her family discovered about her liking. Honestly her mom seems very brave to have accepted her… I would like to talk to malika to know more about saree and how to wear one

malika, sweetie, where are you? how have you been? How is the boyfriend situation? How is life on Venus, love?

Girl Talk Part 2

Lynn and me sat in a salad bar. All that shopping had made us thirsty and hungry.

The young waiter came up to us.

“What should I get you ladies?”

She started to giggle. The waiter looked at me and then to her. He looked a little confused.

He took our orders and went away.

“Cute, isn’t he?” She winked.

We heartily ate our salads and drank our juice.

We had so many things to say to each other. So much time had passed by. She told me about her life and about her new man.

“Do you want to see his picture?”

I said “Sure!”

She opened her purse and showed me a picture of them. They were locked in each other’s arms, smiling. He looked handsome, he was tall, quite well built and had a nice smile. She looked ravishing, happy.

“What do you think of him?” she broke the silence.

I looked up at her and smiled.

“You look nice together”

She held my hand and pressed it slightly.

“He is quite a dish!” I giggled.

“Hey! Don’t you look at him that way!” she said jokingly.

We laughed.

I felt content that she had found happiness again. I had not been able to give her all that she had desired. I hadn’t been ‘man’ enough and right now I wasn’t looking or feeling anything close to it.

Surprisingly, I didn’t feel jealous or sad. I had imagined that I would have felt differently. But somewhere I liked this new equation. We were friends, girlfriends.

We left the place and walked on the street. I had forgotten the anxiety I had experienced before. I was comfortable, comfortable in my skirt, comfortable in my high heels, comfortable to have my purse on my shoulder which gave me some strange support.

She asked me if I wouldn’t mind if she took a picture of us. She asked a passer-by to take one.

She then looked at her wristwatch.

“Oh my god! I’m late. I didn’t realise the time.”

I suddenly felt sad. I wanted to be with her, I wanted to be with my friend.

She must have seen that on my face. She looked at me and then held my hands.

“What are you going to do now?” she said.

“Nothing! Nothing at all”.

“Do you want to come to my place for dinner? I have a few friends over”.

I was surprised.

“Wow! Dressed like this?” I queried.

“Why not? You look absolutely gorgeous.
Then you can always change, you have your shopping”

“But… What about your boyfriend? Won’t he mind?”

“NO! I’ll ask him but there’s no problem, I can assure you. He is very cool!”

Cool sure, but I was a man, her ex, dressed as a woman. A tranny, a drag queen! I wasn’t sure that I had the guts to face him or the others.

“Come on, Malika! It’s alright. Nobody has a problem with it… except you”.

I looked at her and then at the world around me. No one really seemed to care. Everyone was going about their own lives, with their own problems. Once in a while if someone did look at me curiously, they would continue on their way.

I nodded.

“Yay!” she screamed.

“Let’s go” she took my hand and I before I knew it I was swept into a new experience.

I walked with her, the light breeze blowing in my face.

We reached her apartment which was quite nice. She showed me around. It was very tastefully decorated. I remembered when we had moved in together. I recognised the style as if I had been there before, but except for the reminders that there was someone else there too, the presence of a man.

She threw her hands up in the air,

“Phew! Men” she said and giggled.

She started to pick up some clothes and socks that lay on the floor beside the couch.

She looked at me as she folded the clothes she had picked up.

“You weren’t like this; you were so neat and proper. I would often say that I was lucky .”

“But then now I know why… Madam” she mocked.

That’s not fair I said all men are not like that.

“Ohhh! So madam knows a lot about men, I see”.

We laughed and laughed.

Somehow now we could talk about things that we had never managed to talk before. So was it because for her I no longer was considered as a person of the opposite sex? Was she treating me like a woman treats another?
I often wondered how women saw people like me, were we still men or were we women or were we some kind of sexless in betweens. Like the harem eunuchs in the old days?

So is masculinity just a question of desiring women? Thus giving rise to a certain tension between the two sexes. A strong power politics that both naturally play?

So once that tension or the threat removed, one moved into a privileged position of being confidantes and ladies in waiting.

Well, frankly I did not feel out of place.

She called her boyfriend and spoke to him for a long time. I sat there trying to grab a word or two of the conversation, nervous that I may get rejected.

I leafed through a few magazines trying to concentrate on Angelina Jolie’s new baby, the new mascara that gives you extra, extra long lashes and Eva Longoria’s lovely blue chiffon dress.

She came back and looked at me.

“Come! Will you help me get everything ready?”

I looked at her questioningly.

“He’s okay with it, he has no problems”

She turned around and walked away towards the kitchen saying
“Come on, girl, there are things to do”

We cooked and cleaned together. She asked me about my life or as she said my ‘new’ life and how I was coping with it.

“So, tell me, any guys on the scene?”

I said no, that I was sure about that part of my life and that I was happy living alone for the moment. She smiled “Promise me just one thing”

“What?”

“I’ll be the first to know okay! You have to call me right after.”

She jokingly came towards me, menacing me with her hands.

“You’ll tell me all the gory details. Promise! I want to know all.”

I promised her, but said that it wouldn’t be the case and that would live my life alone.

She told me that I didn’t deserve that and that everybody had the right to be happy.

The door bell rang. I froze, my knees knocking in fright. She looked at me and gave me a reassuring smile.

I continued to busy myself, washing the dishes. I hoped that everything would be nice. I just did not want to feel humiliated. And then I thought why should I feel that way? I was what I was and I decided that if there was even a slight uncomfortable feeling, I would pick up my purse and leave. I would be the lady I loved to be.

I heard voices but they sounded female. I started to dry the dishes, my heart was beating even faster.
And then they came into the kitchen.

“Look who’s here?”

I turned to look. He wasn’t there but here best girlfriend Louisa, was standing there. I hadn’t seen her since the break-up. She was someone I would meet very often.

“OHHH MYYY GODD!” She exclaimed. “I don’t believe it. Just look at you! WOW!”

I stood there looking towards them, my hands fiddling with my apron.

“Ohh! Let me look at you!”
She came up to me and looked me all over.

“Wow! Unbelievable, you’ve got it all right down to every detail. My, my! A real chick!”

She couldn’t take her eyes of me.
“Just look at him… sorry her, My god! Aunty has been hiding all this while, who would have believed it”

“So how are you?” I said mustering up courage.

“Oh fine darling, very fine!” she smiled.

“And you? Tell me about you, Sweety!
I have been hearing a lot about you but it’s something else to see you like this.
Your so sweet, Malika isn’t it?”

“Yes! I’m Malika! I’m happy to see you” I said with all the guts I could muster.

She then came forward and hugged me.

“I’m so happy to see you too, after such a long time” she said.

I hugged her too reminded of all those years that I had known her.
Tears rushed into my eyes.

She put her arm around my waist.

Lynn looked at us. “Ok ladies! Would you like some tea?
and then we can show Louisa our shopping!”.

“Yipeee!
...and then I have a secret to tell you girls!” said Louisa.

...to be continued

She is pretty, beautiful, feminine. I hope she will smile like a princess that she is. Smile, and your worries will go away.

Tina Turner (born Anna Mae Bullock on November 26, 1939) is a Grammy Award-winning American pop/rock singer, Buddhist and occasional actress.

Born in Nutbush (now Brownsville, Tennessee), of African American, Navajo, and Cherokee ancestry. At age 16, she moved to St. Louis, Missouri and became well-known for her high energy performances with The Ike and Tina Turner Revue during the 1960s and 1970s.

She is, however, best known for her solo comeback in the mid-1980s. Turner is noted for her overpowering stage presence—long legs, big hair, and raspy voice. She is often referred to as the “Queen of Rock & Roll.”

She possesses a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in the 1990s. In addition, she is a member of the St. Louis Walk of Fame. She is also the winner of seven Grammy Awards thus far.

Her boyfriend is German Record Executive, Erwin Bach. Tina lives with him in Switzerland.

I grew up in house full of men. My mom was the only women there. She would lament “I wish I had had a girl! So that I wouldn’t feel so lonely.Someone who would share my burden” It was true, no one lifted a finger, she would have to do everything at home.
“Mom, where’s my shirt? Mom where’s my breakfast? Mom where’s the chai?”
She would say she would have liked to be like a Hindu goddess with a thousand arms. So tht she could do all the thousand things at the same time. I would have liked to help my mom but I would not be allowed.
“Go away from the kitchen, you’re a boy”
But so many times, I wanted to tell her, “Mom, I want to help you, please let me” But either I did not have the guts or the understanding as to why I felt like this.
And then one day, when everybody was away and I was alone at home. I dressed up in my mom’s silk saree, put kajal in my eyes, put on a bindi, wore her glass bangles, her silver payals. I sat down on the bed and put on the TV, watched the TV serials that I would die to watch, the cookery programs, make-up help, fashion. I read her Woman’s era and Femina. I felt like a woman, like somone I would have liked to be. This great day would become my routine for a few years. I would wait for days when the whole family went out and I would feign some imaginery fatigue or stomach ache. Now I was dressing three or four times a week. I became an expert on draping the saree. The gestures that I had studied watching my mother and other women became second nature. My hands automatically pulled the saree edge over my fake breasts, I would use the pullu to cover my shoulders, I would hold up my pleats when I went into the bathroom. I would tuck the pullu around me whn I made tea.
Then one day the inevitable happened. I fell asleep dressed in my finery and woke up to loud laughter. I opened my eyes and before me stood the whole family.
I frooze!
My brothers were laughing but were visibly embrassed, angry, disgusted. My father walked away mumuring something. My mother stood there, a smile on her face. She said ” My god! You really know how to wear a saree. ”
They all left me there on the bed. I did not know what I should do. Should I run to the bathroom and change or should I be brave.
My mom came back again into the room. She studid me and then sat down next to me.
“Why are you wearing my sarees?”
I thought for a while and then looked up at her and said ” I want to be a girl!”
She got up. She said you think being a girl is dressing up in a saree?. I didn’t say anything.
“So, you want to be a girl?”
She got up and opened the cupboard and took out a cotten sari and threw it next to me. “You can’t wear a silk saree and do housework, my dear”. She left the room. I sat there my heart racing, what do I do?
She came back a few minutes later “What are you doing? Change your saree and come into the kitchen, there is work to do”.
I took the cue, I quickly took off the expensive silk saree and put on the ‘house saree’, an orange cotten one. I meekly walked into the kitchen.
My mom looked at me and laughed. Lets see if you can be a girl she said.

She handed me a tray with a teapot and cups. “Take this and serve them their tea!”

This was my mother’s idea of womanhood.

I took the tray with shivering hands and went out into the sitting room. They sat there watching TV. They looked up at me, their mouths agape.
“Don’t be shocked! ‘She’ wants to be a girl so she is going to be one, lets see how long ‘her’ desire lasts.”
There was a howling round of laughter and sarcastic jokes.
But my mother was soon to be surprised by my resolve to be a girl.

I am transgender

It’s so interesting to read Malika and watching her Pictures. It’s another World, but i think it’s the same Feeling being a Tranny

She is beautiful, gorgeous and a fab dresser. She is also a webmistress and a blogger. She is transgender like me.