This document is an interview with Nisha Ayub, a 37-year-old transgender activist from Malaysia. She discusses her journey of self-discovery and coming to understand her identity. As a child, she felt different from her family and more comfortable portraying herself as feminine. Though she faced challenges with isolation and discrimination, meeting other transgender people helped her understand who she is. Now, through her advocacy work, she hopes to promote greater acceptance and equal rights for the transgender community.

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When I was seven or eight years old,
I noticed my family members often try-
ing to “correct” whatever I said or did.
I knew then that I was different.
In Primary Three, I participated in a
fancy dress competition in school, as
a ballerina. When I did that, I felt so
comfortable. That’s when I first started
to portray myself as who I really am in
public. I was so happy.
But at the time, I didn’t know that I was
transgender. I’d never heard of the word.
When I reached secondary school, I
thought I was gay because I became at-
tracted to men when I hit puberty.
At the end of the day, it’s not about
being attracted to men; it’s about my
identity. The more I started to portray
myself as a woman, the more comfort-
able I felt.
Back home in Malacca, there was once
this beautiful Chinese transgender.
She had lovely, long hair and rode a mo-
torcycle. At the time, I didn’t know that
she was transgender. I only found out
when I started to hear people talking
about her and saying that she’s actually
a man. But when I looked at her, I saw
a beautiful woman. Only when I talked
to her did I notice that her voice was
different, and that’s when I first learned
the word transgender.
I was alone. I didn’t have anyone to
talk to—not my family or anyone at
school. The difference between then
and now is that I wasn’t as talkative
or expressive as I am today. I was very
introverted, because when I met peo-
ple, they would always go, “Why is he
talking like that or behaving that way?”
It made me feel very uncomfortable to
be around people.
When I reached adolescence, I started
to go out more. I met other transgen-
der people. So it made someone like
me, who was confused at the time, ask:
“Who am I, and why are they like me
too?” Then I knew—I’m a part of them.
I’m not saying that I was lucky to be
there, but prison made me stronger.
Being transgender, we face a lot of
problems from birth.
You may see us [transgender people]
laughing and making jokes all the time,
but behind those smiles are a lot of sad
stories.
I always believe that, while whatever
you may face now is challenging, things
will always get better. It is this belief
that keeps me moving forward.
The main problem that I’m facing right
now is sustaining the work that I do for
the organisation and the community.
The problem is, transgender and home-
less people are less likely to be engaged
by people. For me, to continue my
work, I need the support to sustain my
organisation. It’s a difficult task.
When I meet the younger genera-
tion, what I notice is that there is more
acceptance and willingness to listen.
I’ve seen a lot of younger transgenders
being more open about who they are.
In my campaigns, most of my support
comes from the younger generation.
Rather than oppressing the communi-
ty and not letting the right information
get out there, it’s better to allow people
to really get to know who they are. If
more information is provided about
sexual identity and orientation, it’ll give
them a choice to discover themselves.
When I found out that the US Embassy
had nominated me for the Internation-
al Women of Courage Award, I didn’t
think much of it. There are over 200
nominees from around the world, so I
was just happy to even be nominated.
But when it was announced that I was
one of the award recipients, it shook
me. I couldn’t believe it because, first
and foremost, it was a Women of Cour-
age award. For them to recognise me as
a woman was something.
When I travelled to the US for the
awards ceremony, I was really nervous
about how the other recipients would
see me. But they didn’t see me as just
a transgender person. They saw me as
a woman. In their opinion, a woman is
not just from a biological standpoint. If
you see yourself as a woman, you are a
woman. I felt really honoured and proud
of the community. The award didn’t just
recognise me, but the transgender com-
munity all around the world as well.
People say that I’m a LGBT activ-
ist. To be honest, I’m not fighting for
LGBT rights. I’m fighting for equal
rights. LGBT people are just like any
other member of society who seeks
equal rights. We’re not asking for any
special rights.
For those who suspect that they might
be different, the first thing that I would
say to you is don’t feel bad. Things will
get better. You need to understand and
accept yourself. That’s the most impor-
tant thing. Before asking other people
to accept you, you have to accept your-
self; otherwise, there is no point.
If I could go back in time, I’d probably
tell my 18-year-old self to continue my
studies. I wish that I had done that.
Sometimes, I ask myself until when?
Until when will I continue to do this?
Every day of my life is about the organi-
sation, and I’m thinking about how to
continue the programme. Sometimes, I
do feel overwhelmed. But the thing that
keeps me going is, each time I look at the
community, I see things changing bit by
bit. The personal thanks and messages—
that’s also what keeps me forging ahead.
I believe in religion. I believe all reli-
gion teaches good. The only problem
is when people start misusing religion.
People always say that you need to
think about hell or heaven and what
comes after. I think about the now.
Why do we have to think about hell or
heaven or after? Let’s think about the
now. Let’s do good now. Religion starts
from you.
WHAT I’VE LEARNED
Nisha Ayub
Activist, 37
Interview by Sim Wie Boon
Photograph by Eric Chow